The House of a Thousand Floors (CEU Press Classics) Read online

  I'll buy it! Someone's buying Mullerdom! Don't we all know that this is Muller's best joke? — Or is there someone mightier than Muller himself? And what is Mullerdom? — A pillar made of solid gold, reaching from hell to heaven!

  It appeared as if even the voice pouring out of the crystal loudspeaker was surprised. It wavered — and stopped short. — A moment of terrible silence froze in space. But then the surprise passed and the voice spoke again. — This time, it sounded very different: hard and cruel. Like the creaking of an instrument designed not to kill but to torture:

  "Let the man who is buying Mullerdom show himself!”

  "Here I am!"

  Petr Brok was at that moment indeed in the centre of the hall. He had climbed onto a large transparent statue of Atlas bearing a golden globe on his shoulders. The statue dissolved under him into nothing and the globe remained suspended in space like a fading sun.

  And it was here, on the globe, that Brok made himself comfortable. He could safely send his questions from here and catch the answers. He'd decided to make this daring move; his instinct told him that Ohisver Muller was close, the man who became more and more mysterious as he tried to decipher him, more distant as he tried to get closer to him. Here, I finally found a place where I can speak to him; if it is Him, that voice coming out of the crystal throat. Very well! If I can seize his voice, I'll be half way to knowing him. The voice that stands out among millions!

  Now I have to find the mouth it comes from. The form in which it grows cold and hard like an iron that brands the bodies of martyrs!

  The loudspeaker hissed:

  "Who are you?"

  Well, well, well! Mr Muller was curious! Was he not omniscient? —Brok himself was not sure who he was, and whenever he thinks about it, his temples are crushed in a vice. And then — it is all somehow connected with the yellow lamps that appear in his dreams. — No! He can't think about it! He must believe the papers he is carrying in his wallet. — That's why he has to roam Mullerdom like a ghost, a man without a body — a voice that must kill to find salvation!

  The loudspeaker hissed a second time:

  "Who are you?"

  And the detective said,

  "Petr Brok!"

  "Petr Brok?"

  the loudspeaker repeated contemptuously.

  "And I am Ohisver Muller!"

  "Names make no difference!"

  The sea of top hats deep down under Brok's feet was taken by a storm. Faces grew pale with astonishment. Who is this Petr Brok to whom the name Ohisver Muller makes no difference? The name of the man who owns the universe? The man with the power of God?

  Is this other voice coming out of nowhere more powerful? Is it mocking Muller?

  Petr Brok! — Is this the name of a man or of a new god?

  One thing is certain: two voices have just clashed here! They are weighing each other up before an imminent duel. Everyone has sensed that. — But which one will win?

  "Mr Muller, I want to speak to you!"

  "Petr Brok will report to agent number 199!"

  "I don't need an agent! I want Muller! "

  What are the intentions of the voice that wants to buy Mullerdom?

  "First of all, I want to ask just a small question, just for your ears: you are selling your house — why so suddenly?"

  "I am the one asking questions here!"

  "After me, Mr Muller! I know how your star travel works! I know your terrible secrets! The Universe Company... is it not in fact a crematorium? How many shares do you have in it, Mr Muller?"

  Now, surprisingly, another voice spoke, much older and somewhat pensive:

  "Well then, Petr Brok, tonight you will come to number 99 Alice Moore Street on the 354th floor."

  "And who am I to meet there?"

  "Ohisver Muller!"

  XXIV

  Ohisver Muller's inner sanctuary · "Ascension" wine · Petr Brok tries Ohisver Muller's patience again · Three shots into the carpet

  After Petr Brok announced himself to the omnipotent Muller, he didn't dare climb down among the crowd from the golden globe held by Atlas. He waited until people began to leave the hall and the lights started to fade. Then, suddenly, they all went out at once! — Darkness — endless, black, barbaric darkness buried Petr Brok alive!

  Oh, woe! — How was he going to get out of here? How would he find the exit? — How was he going to return to the princess he had left in Berta Bretard Street? He now regretted having left her so recklessly. What if she was in danger right now? What if he never found his way back to her?

  Brok lowered himself down from the globe and felt his way forward on the carpet. — His fingers touched a cold surface. A tangible point in space! A wall that would lead him to light! Quickly! Move forward! He followed his hand feeling the smooth marble.

  Finally! — A small door. Behind it lay a narrow corridor and, at the end, another door. — Brok opened it into the light —

  Was this a temple, a variety show, a museum, a café or a collection of curiosities? Who knows! Small round tables were standing on colourful carpets with flower designs, around them deep purple armchairs on casters. — Heads are visible above the backrests; people are smoking and drinking hot crimson drinks from silver chalices. — An avenue of luminescent columns leads to a stage with an altar under a starry blue dome. At least it looked like an altar, judging from the symmetrical electric candles, flowers and palm trees. Above the altar was the image of a chubby man dressed in purple, with a crown on his head and a long beard parted in the middle. He was sitting on a throne holding the globe in one hand like a royal orb, and in the other a sceptre in the shape of the house of a thousand floors. An aureole of gold stars was shining around his head.

  It was the same jovial man Brok had seen at the stock exchange. A semicircle of violet letters burned above the image:

  Brok was all the more surprised to see a row of smaller altars running along both sides of the temple —was it a temple? — with wax figures of strange patrons and martyrs nodding their heads, clasping hands, moving their lips, rolling their eyes and lifting peculiar instruments, the purpose of which was incomprehensible to him.

  A wax lady with a sweet smile and a blonde wig, dressed in white draped attire, stood on one of the altars in a glass display case. Her bosom was rising and falling regularly with her breathing and her head was turning with that lovely but also ridiculous movement of a puppet princess whose body is motionless while only the head turns from side to side. A young girl was kneeling at her feet raising her clasped hands in time with the lady's head. Each turn was accompanied by a movement, up and down.

  Petr Brok was dumbfounded. At first he wasn't sure why, but soon he understood. He'd seen something like this before. It was a long time ago... it felt as if he was returning to a familiar place he had visited thousands and thousands of years ago. A row of glass coffins containing the wax figures of some forgotten heroes, slowly breathing with the rhythm of a clockwork mechanism. A corpulent lady dressed in white is lying there, her hands crossed on the mound of her rising and falling chest. Here is the leader of a band of robbers, also breathing, then an assassinated emperor over there, and next to him a notorious murderer.

  Where was this? And when?

  Brok focused on the memory but he felt a vice crushing his head! Ignoring the pain, he closed his eyes and dug into his memory. And suddenly he saw the yellow lamp hanging from a beam. woodworm-riddled pillars and a grey bunk bed with something moving on it. Away! Away with this spectral image! I am now standing in a temple dedicated to the omnipotent, omnipresent, double-bearded God Muller! There are believers lazily lounging in lilac armchairs, sipping from chalices, waiting for something. There is a pulpit in the shape of a golden lily. Like a huge, monstrous pistil, a paunch in a lilac shirt protrudes over it and, above it, a head with a nine-tiered tiara illuminated from inside with a light bulb. Brok saw the moving mouth in the middle of a podgy, full-moon face. Then he realised that someone was speaking and he had to li
sten.

  The priest was praying:

  "O Lord, our ruler and king,

  You who are called Ohisver Muller,

  Meaning the 'eternal wanderer travelling upwards’

  You who have created a wondrous miracle

  That will be admired by endless generations of this world

  The Mullerdom

  A bridge leading to heaven

  Our Lord, our King,

  Ohisver Muller

  You who fills the space of this world

  With His presence

  Descend with your voice among us

  As proof for those

  Of little faith...

  The high priest cleared his throat and raised his eyes as if expecting a voice to come from heaven. When nothing happened, he continued his prayer:

  Your will be done

  On earth and among stars

  Hear our prayers

  Great Muller

  You, the one, the eternal!

  Hear us humbly begging you

  Say a single word

  And our souls will be filled

  With the wine of joy!

  The high priest took a breath and prayed for the third time:

  All-seeing and omnipresent

  All-hearing Ohisver Muller

  Pilgrim travelling upward

  God of all gods

  Master and king of all stars

  From among millions you have chosen this one

  To dwell on

  You have created our heaven among us

  And made our earth

  The chosen star

  The star of god

  Our Lord Ohis Muller

  Pilgrim travelling upward

  Hear our prayer!"

  "I hear!”

  A voice came down from inside the dome. The high priest rejoiced in his mysterious ecstasy, bells started ringing, an organ started playing, voices sang. The faithful rose and lifted their chalices high. It was clear that this was part of the daily service. The high priest continued:

  "Our God

  Architect of Mullerdom

  King of the earth

  Master of stars!

  All the secrets of the universe

  And of human souls

  Are no longer mysteries

  Before You —

  Because You Yourself are the greatest

  Mystery of the world

  You gaze into the depths of infinity

  Smiling

  Because You see Yourself

  Since infinity is Your mirror

  You gaze into the depths of human souls

  Crying

  Because at the bottom You see The boulders of our sins

  Counting the beating of our treacherous hearts

  You who have created,

  Mullerdom

  A bridge to heaven

  Forgive us our sins!"

  I forgive!

  replied the divine voice.

  Thereafter followed litanies, long and tiresome, which repeated Muller's name over and over again, with thousands of attributes.

  Then the high priest stepped down from the pulpit and moved to the main altar where he insistently worshipped God Muller surrounded by light bulbs, asking for a miracle to be performed at this great moment.

  And that was when a voice came from above:

  "I made this star the heart of the universe

  And descended into a human body for a thousand years,

  After which I will leave for another star

  To build another Mullerdom

  The House of a Thousand Floors

  But you who are worshipping me

  Drinking quantities of hot

  Wine of "Ascension”

  The symbol of my human form on this planet

  You will all live on stars more beautiful and blissful than this one!

  For sinners, blasphemers and enemies

  I have prepared fire and suffering in the hell

  Of nine worlds

  For you, my children,

  I will prepare heavenly dwelling places on stars

  You will be able to choose

  In this life

  Therefore, I advise you

  Not to regret this earth!

  Tarry not and look around the stars

  To choose the most blissful heaven.

  And you of little faith,

  The reason why I placed solium

  Inside this earth

  Why I created a fleet

  That now plies the universe

  Was to draw the sky close to you

  And bring the stars to your feet!

  Those who believe in me

  Will live forever

  On the blissful star

  They will themselves select

  Amen, amen, I say unto you

  Prepare for a long journey

  Fear not farewells

  Entrust your lives to

  UNIVERSE

  The heavenly transport company."

  "A company of procurers, slave drivers and cremators! Do not believe Muller!”

  This is what Petr Brok shouted. — He wanted to provoke this false god again! It was irrelevant to him whether it was Muller himself speaking or one of his agents, but he was incensed by that shameless advertising of UNIVERSE.

  The faithful responded with dismay. A lightning of terror struck their bristled brains and travelled down the lightning rod of their nerves. The chalices fell from their ands as they fainted with horror. — And from above came the voice:

  "The devil came to tempt god!”

  "Not the devil or god — a man came to stand up to a scoundrel, conman and a mass murderer! — The whole Mullerdom is one big lie, a fraud!"

  Bang! A shot!

  The bullet brazenly whistled into Brok's ear like a street urchin. Bang!

  A second one! This time it flew under his nose, so close he could smell it, and ended up in the carpet, next to the first one.

  Beware!

  Someone is shooting from above.

  Brok's voice became a target. There, a hand holding a Browning was taking aim from a small window in the blue dome.

  Was it Orsag who could see him with his lenses?

  Bang!!!

  Another shot made a hole in the carpet between the two previous ones. Brok did not wait around for the fourth. He rushed to the exit which became a bottleneck for the panicking crowd. — He jumped up on their shoulders and, stepping on a sea of backs and heads, hurried through the portal and down the staircase. He was the first one to reach the street.

  Lo and behold! It was Anna Dimer Street, at the far end of which stood the stock exchange with its glass columns.

  He remembered how he had penetrated Muller's inner sanctuary through a dark corridor, and tried in vain to explain this coincidence. Instead of the stock exchange, the end of the street was now blocked with the temple and its flashing advertisement

  Petr Brok decided to solve this puzzle later and concentrated on a far more pressing problem: the princess! What was happening to the princess? He had so thoughtlessly abandoned her in Villa Tamara; what if she was in danger?

  XXV

  Prince Achorgen’s face · Muller's eye in the princess's bedroom · To Gedonia by lift · The yellow lamp again

  When Brok arrived at the princess's villa and started looking inside its rooms through the transparent walls, he found them all hidden behind drawn silk curtains hanging from golden rods, reaching all the way to the floor. — But from one chamber with sky-blue curtains he could hear two clashing voices, a man's and a woman's! — Through a narrow gap in the curtains Brok could see the princess sitting and — opposite her on a Turkish divan — a man's head.

  Thanks to his invisibility, Brok managed to sneak into the room, soundlessly open a glass door, slip between the drapes under the eyes of the unknown visitor with far more ease than he had expected. He found himself in a young woman's boudoir.

  The face he saw against the blue background of th
e drapes was remarkable. Its features and proportions made it different from any face he had ever seen before. It was a specimen only nature on another planet could have come up with. It was beautiful in its own way, just as the head of a horse can be beautiful, but next to a human head it was astonishing — conspicuously long and narrow, with a magnificently hooked nose like the beak of a parrot. The deep eyes changed colour from yellow to green and from brown to blue, as if reflecting changes of mood. An aimlessly long, desolate upper lip stretched between the nose and mouth. A goatee with two pointed ends was clearly stuck on. His legs were long and thin, and he was taller than the princess by at least two heads. He was dressed in white silk like a tennis player.

  "It's up to you," he said. "Everything can be forgotten. Your escape was foolish but it also brought you Great Muller's respect.."

  "And how did he find out about my escape?"

  Prince Achorgen grimaced with pity at her naïve question:

  "Is he not all-seeing? Did you really think you could escape the Eye of Providence? He saw your escape, and followed your every step just as he is now looking down at us from his heaven..." Achorgen pointed to a round glass lens in the ceiling with hypocritical piety.

  "Is that his eye?" the princess was astonished.

  "Of course it is! On every floor, in all the rooms, he watches his people, day and night."

  The princess lamented: "But there's a little mirror like that in the ceiling of my bedroom, — What shamelessness!"

  "Can an all-seeing god be shameless? Of course, he looks into your bedroom, just as he looks into all the bedrooms in Mullerdom! That's why you need not be shy in front of him; he knows you like a husband, although he has never touched you! But now he longs to touch you! — You've been graced with his attention! — Come, I will take you to him!"

  "Never!" the princess cried and glanced around as if looking to be rescued.