“The whole organisation
was full and overrunning with frustrated ex-artists, scientists, farmers,
writers, explorers, poets, lawyers, doctors, musicians, all of whom spent their
life conforming instead. And conforming to what? To a sort of overgrown, aimless,
haphazard stencilling apparatus that kept them running to psychoanalysts, sent
them to insane asylums, gave them high blood pressure, stomach ulcers, killed
them off with cerebral hemmorrhages and heart failure, sometimes suicide. Why
should I pay still more tribute to this fatal machine? It would be easier and
simpler to get squashed stripping it’s gears than to be crushed helping it
along.”
Steve Hagen “was a
hard, dark little man whose soul had been hit by lightning, which he’d liked.
His mother was a bank vault, and his father an International Business Machine.”
Pauline Delos "was undiluted sex". George Stroud “was a smug, self-satisfied, smart-alecky bastard just
like ten million other rubber-stamp sub-executives.” Gil the Bartender “is
either a half-wit or an outright lunatic himself.”
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