The Mist Ebook Rar: Experience the Thrill and Suspense of Stephen King's Masterpiece

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The Mist Ebook Rar

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Some readers, taking my story to be an attempt at prophecy, may deem itunwarrantably pessimistic. But it is not prophecy; it is myth, or an essay inmyth. We all desire the future to turn out more happily than I have figured it.In particular we desire our present civilization to advance steadily towardsome kind of Utopia. The thought that it may decay and collapse, and that allits spiritual treasure may be lost irrevocably, is repugnant to us. Yet thismust be faced as at least a possibility. And this kind of tragedy, the tragedyof a race, must, I think, be admitted in any adequate myth.

This view is mistaken. You underestimate even the foothills that stand infront of you, and never suspect that far above them, hidden by cloud, riseprecipices and snow-fields. The mental and spiritual advances which, in yourday, mind in the solar system has still to attempt, are overwhelmingly morecomplex, more precarious and dangerous, than those which have already beenachieved. And though in certain humble respects you have attained fulldevelopment, the loftier potencies of the spirit in you have not yet even begunto put forth buds.

Another sentiment, less definite and conscious than cosmopolitanism, alsoplayed some part in the minds of men, namely loyalty toward the dispassionateintelligence, and perplexed admiration of the world which it was beginning toreveal, a world august, immense, subtle, in which, seemingly, man was doomed toplay a part minute but tragic. In many races there had, no doubt, long existedsome fidelity toward the dispassionate intelligence. But it was England andFrance that excelled in this respect. On the other hand, even in these twonations there was much that was opposed to this allegiance. These, like allpeoples of the age, were liable to bouts of insane emotionalism. Indeed theFrench mind, in general so clear sighted, so realistic, so contemptuous ofambiguity and mist, so detached in all its final valuations, was yet soobsessed with the idea "France" as to be wholly incapable of generosity ininternational affairs. But it was France, with England, that had chieflyinspired the intellectual integrity which was the rarest and brightest threadof Western culture, not only within the territories of these two nations, butthroughout Europe and America. In the seventeenth and eighteenth Christiancenturies, the French and English had conceived, more clearly than otherpeoples, an interest in the objective world for its own sake, had foundedphysical science, and had fashioned out of scepticism the most brilliantlyconstructive of mental instruments. At a later stage it was largely the Frenchand English who, by means of this instrument, had revealed man and the physicaluniverse in something like their true proportions; and it was chiefly the electof these two peoples that had been able to exult in this bracing discovery.

Inevitably. Yet here was a people of unique promise, gifted innately beyondall other peoples. Here was a race brewed of all the races, and mentally moreeffervescent than any. Here were intermingled Anglo-Saxon stubbornness,Teutonic genius for detail and systematization, Italian gaiety, the intensefire of Spain, and the more mobile Celtic flame. Here also was the sensitiveand stormy Slav, a youth-giving Negroid infusion, a faint but subtlystimulating trace of the Red Man, and in the West a sprinkling of the Mongol.Mutual intolerance no doubt isolated these diverse stocks to some degree; yetthe whole was increasingly one people, proud of its individuality, of itssuccess, of its idealistic mission in the world, proud also of its optimisticand anthropocentric view of the universe. What might not this energy haveachieved, had it been more critically controlled, had it been forced to attendto life's more forbidding aspects! Direct tragic experience might perhaps haveopened the hearts of this people. Intercourse with a more mature culture mighthave refined their intelligence. But the very success which had intoxicatedthem rendered them also too complacent to learn from less prosperouscompetitors.

At this point, however, the aged representative of France intervened, andwas granted a hearing. Born almost a hundred and forty years earlier, andpreserved more by native intensity of spirit than by the artifices of theregenerator, this ancient seemed to speak out of a remote and wiser epoch. Forin a declining civilization it is often the old who see furthest and see withyoungest eyes. He concluded a rather long, rhetorical, yet closely reasonedspeech as follows: "No doubt we are the intelligence of the planet; and becauseof our consecration to our calling, no doubt we are comparatively honest. Butalas, even we are human. We make little mistakes now and then, and commitlittle indiscretions. The possession of such power as is offered us would notbring peace. On the contrary it would perpetuate our national hates. It wouldthrow the world into confusion. It would undermine our own integrity, and turnus into tyrants. Moreover it would ruin science. And,--well, when at lastthrough some little error the world got blown up, the disaster would not beregrettable. I know that Europe is almost certainly about to be destroyed bythose vigorous but rather spoilt children across the Atlantic. But distressingas this must be, the alternative is far worse. No, Sir! Your very wonderful toywould be a gift fit for developed minds; but for us, who are stillbarbarians,--no, it must not be. And so, with deep regret I beg you to destroyyour handiwork, and, if it were possible, your memory of your marvellousresearch. But above all breathe no word of your process to us, or to anyman."

Yet there was a soul in China. And in this elusive soul of China the onehope of the First Men now lay. Scattered throughout the Party was a minority oforiginal minds, who were its source of inspiration and the growing point of thehuman spirit in this period. Well aware of man's littleness, these thinkersregarded him none the less as the crown of the universe. On the basis of apositivistic and rather perfunctory metaphysic, they built a social ideal and atheory of art. Indeed, in the practice and appreciation of art they saw man'shighest achievement. Pessimistic about the remote future of the race, andcontemptuous of American evangelism, they accepted as the end of living thecreation of an intricately unified pattern of human lives set in a fairenvironment. Society, the supreme work of art (so they put it), is a delicateand perishable texture of human intercourse. They even entertained thepossibility that in the last resort, not only the individual's life, but thewhole career of the race, might be tragic, and to be valued according to thestandards of tragic art. Contrasting their own spirit with that of theAmericans, one of them had said, "America, a backward youth in a playroomequipped with luxury and electric power, pretends that his mechanical toy movesthe world. China, a gentleman walking in his garden in the evening, admires thefragrance and the order all the more because in the air is the first nip ofwinter, and in his ear rumour of the irresistible barbarian."

"Mistake!" he laughed, overhanging her with his mask of power. "When a man'ssoul is action, how can he be mistaken that action is divine? I have served thegreat God, Energy, all my life, from garage boy to World President. Has not thewhole American people proved its faith by its success?"

She released the hand of the Asiatic, and made as if to draw the Americanaway with her. And he, though he was a strict monogamist with a better halfwaiting for him in New York, longed to crush her sun-clad body to his Puritancloth. She drew him away among the palm trees.

Within this august committee internal dissensions were inevitable. Shortlyafter the system had been inaugurated the Vice-President sought to overthrowthe President by publishing his connection with a Polynesian woman who nowstyled herself the Daughter of Man. This piece of scandal was expected toenrage the virtuous American public against their hero. But by a stroke ofgenius the President saved both himself and the unity of the world. Far fromdenying the charge, he gloried in it. In that moment of sexual triumph, hesaid, a great truth had been revealed to him. Without this daring sacrifice ofhis private purity, he would never have been really fit to be President of theWorld; he would have remained simply an American. In this lady's veins flowedthe blood of all races, and in her mind all cultures mingled. His union withher, confirmed by many subsequent visits, had taught him to enter into thespirit of the East, and had given him a broad human sympathy such as his highoffice demanded. As a private individual, he insisted, he remained a monogamistwith a wife in New York; and, as a private individual, he had sinned, and mustsuffer for ever the pangs of conscience. But as President of the World, it wasincumbent upon him to espouse the World. And since nothing could be said to bereal without a physical basis, this spiritual union had to be embodied andsymbolized by his physical union with the Daughter of Man. In tones of graveemotion he described through the microphone how, in the presence of thatmystical woman, he had suddenly triumphed over his private moral scruples; andhow, in a sudden access of the divine energy, he had consummated his marriagewith the World in the shade of a banana tree. 2ff7e9595c