Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-08-11


would enslave still more people. That was the
insidious feature of the whole diaboical
scheme of things in machine age.
Some one in the crowd logged his elbow
He noticed at his side a short, Unlocking
man In rather shabby clothes. He was wear
ing cap over thin, grayish hair, and his
eyes, set in dark, furrowed face, were
palsh blue. His mustache was gray. formi-
dable, and unkempt. Suddenly he spoke:
Its boomin' shame!'
He had not addressed Godfrey He was
merely mutteIing aloud to himself.
Its bloomin' shame!" he repeated IT
won't stand it,"
Geoffrey's interest was stirred This sounded
like the true note Of rebellion.
That's the way to talk" he said APP
provingly.
by The workman regarding Godfrey with
suspicious eyes. Some inarticuate doubt
within him seemed suddenly dispelled.
Lets go and get drink"
THE very thing" agreed Godfrey.
They moved off across the street toward a
small shop which contained lunch counter.
Passing through to the rear they sat down
at table.
Two real ones, Gus" said Geoffreys COM
panion to the red-faced German in a soiled
apron who had followed them into the room.
the latter departed to return a moment later
with two unlabeed bottles. A dark brew
foamed in the thick. heavy glasses
It's bloomin shame!" said the workman
In his lugubrious tones.
Godfrey nodded agreement over his glass
He OWNED in the other a soul ground down
by the heartless tyranny of the established
industrial order.
I'm an expert mechanic, I am" went on
the other. My names Kent I've earned
good pay for nigh on to 40 years and now
they've got machines that do everything"
Machines Godfrey felt a thrill 60 over
him. Here was fresh damning testimony as
to what was wrong with the world and would
eventually wreck 1t.
They don't need men like ME no longer"
Mr. Kent continued to pour forth his woes
"All they need is wops or just kids, to stand
and feed their bloomin' machines. No use
Tor brains. All the brains has gone into the
machine. You just stand and feed it."
Now you've said something!" Godfrey
agreed. The sting of the beverage was already
mounting pleasantly within him. He felt his
kinship with this aged toiler who had lived
on into the evil days of a degenerate age.
Godfrey beat on the table with his glass to
emphasize his words
Down with machines That's what's the
matter with the world. Too many machines!
We're just slaves to them. Can't the human
race see that? Can't they see what it's all
coming to-"
People are just fools" observed Mr.. Kent.
pessimistically. Now, III an expert me-
chanic-"
We've got to wake them up!" Godfrey
announced with conviction. His head no
longer sched. Instead. a strange glow and an
easerneSS to liberate his fellow men infused him.
I'VE must start a drive or something"
GIT don't pay to start anything" Mr..
Kent shook his head with the conserya-
hsm of the dislusioned and stared despondecc-
ly into the depths of his glass; His own un-
happy plight still filled his thoughts
L always feel this way around o'clock"
ne explained. Eve made good wages. I have.
for nigh on to 40 years. and now I'm Just
feedin' a machine"
Have another drink" suggested Godfrey.
Mr.. Kent turned to speak over his shoulder
'Two real ones, Gus" His mournful eyes
again fastened upon Godfrey I'm tel:in'
you. All day long. . 1t amt mans job"
'Monotonous, eh?"
Mr. Kent considered the word for moment
and his lips curled in disgust. He bent OVER
his refilled glass for long moment and came
up with the inquiry: Ever see a Common
dsble Typewriter"
Godfrey replied that he owned one
I've often wondered where all those fool
machines went to-" said Mr. Kent, as II the
mystery of their distribution were now ex-
planned. Well, you know there's lot of parts
in one of them machines Type bars. rocker
bars. escapement arms. levers, ratchets-"
Yes. know" said Godfrey
WELL" said Mr.. Kent, working up to his
climax, what part do I make? Anything that
calls for skilled work?" He paused for
emphasis. "Nothn Of the kind. stand and
feed sheet of metal into a machine that
at one crack stamps out the spacing bar
the one part of a typewriter that amt noth:n'
at all. Just makes the gap between words"
That's too bad" murmured Godfrey.
you said that before" Mr.. Kent pointed
out gloomily. and then drained his glass. He
turned his head and called in his melancholy
voice: Two real ones. Gus"
Godfrey contemplated the degradation to
which Mr. Kent had been reduced by a
Machine Age. He was the ignominious slave