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His world was roomy. ''Montag'' sat, not moving. ''Beatty'' stood in dust and gloom.
"Films, radios, magazines, and books. Immortal brain rot in bed. Sort of paste pudding, do you follow me?"
[["Forgive me, I'm raving."]]
"Never mind. Do you smoke?" Beatty asked irrelevantly. He fidgeted as he puffed his pipe.
"When did it all start? How did it come about, where, when?"
[["Oblivion"]]"I didn't notice." Beatty puff and blew.
"Why do they do it all again?"
[["They could afford to."]]
[["They only think for themselves."]]"They became simpler."
"Radio. Television. Books appealed to a few."
"Only fire chiefs remember now."
[[Now standing in one corner...]]"Did you see that old beggar in the refectory?" Beatty took a full minute to puff.
"Tomorrow, double. The next day, triple. First of the week, quadruple. The world all levelled down."
[[Now standing in one corner...]]"Struck down by the Wrath of Heaven. Cast down for past sins by God's policeman. Some of them are mine."
"To a basement storeroom, eating away at the mantle of godhood."
He thought, peering curiously.
"I guess I'm just imagining it."
[[Now standing in one corner...]]He kindled a dry-rot mound of faggots. He looked at the flame while he wore a satiric smile.
"They don't feed it to people like they used to."
"Sooner or later, somehow, fire will rescue the mass."Fire ManBoscoe