So strongly was Julio impressed that for a little while he forgot the
purpose which had brought him thither. . . . If those who provoke war
from diplomatic chambers or from the tables of the Military Staff could
but see it--not in the field of battle fired with the enthusiasm which
prejudices judgments--but in cold blood, as it is seen in the hospitals
and cemeteries, in the wrecks left in its trail! . . .
To Julio's imagination this terrestrial globe appeared like an enormous
ship sailing through infinity. Its crews--poor humanity--had spent
century after century in exterminating each other on the deck. They did
not even know what existed under their feet, in the hold of the vessel.
To occupy the same portion of the surface in the sunlight seemed to be
the ruling desire of each group. Men, considered superior human beings,
were pushing these masses to extermination in order to scale the last
bridge and hold the helm, controlling the course of the boat. And all
those who felt the overmastering ambition for absolute command knew the
same thing . . . nothing. Not one of them could say with certainty what
lay beyond the visible horizon, nor whither the ship was drifting.
The sullen hostility of mystery surrounded them all; their life was
precarious, necessitating incessant care in order to maintain it, yet in
spite of that, the crew for ages and ages, had never known an instant
of agreement, of team work, of clear reason.
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