At first he is unnoticed. The first hush comes from his immediate surroundings, and slowly reaches to the whole gallery, slightly lowering the decibels. The struggling groups below start looking up and stop struggling. The rhythmic roars quieten only gradually, the silence spreading like a contagion. Even the police cease their activities and stare.
He stretches out his hands. He starts speaking. In Russian, in Hebrew, in German, in Yiddish, in French. But everyone seems to hear him in English, as if he were dubbed, his lip-movements not quite corresponding to the words. Are there words? Rita can't hear any with her ears. But she absorbs immense and silent well-constructed phrases, interspersed with short sharp apostrophes, exclamations of love, proverbs, maxims, cliches of wisdom, brief prayers, blessings. Perhaps he is only pretending to speak, everyone hearing what they will. The effect is nevertheless electrical.
[Textermination, Brooke-Rose, C.]
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