Chapter Text
"There you have it, Montag. It didn’t come from the Government down. There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship, to start with, no! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God. Today, thanks to them, you can stay happy all the time, you are allowed to read comics, the good old confessions, or trade journals," Beatty's quiet, authoritive voice rang out inside the bedroom from where he was talking. Despite his reluctance, Montag could not help but lean into the sound of Beatty's voice. It had a sort of power to it that made anyone stop and listen to what he was saying. He supposed, that was probably the requirement for being the captain of the fireman. Now, he felt fear creeping up on him as Beatty sat there, minutes away from finding out his dreadful secret. Or did he already know? Was that why he was here? Cautiously, he slid his hand under the pillow to feel the hard cover of the book he had stolen from the old woman.
"Montag are you even listening?" Beatty's sharp voice broke him out of his thoughts. Hastily, he slid his hand away to address his boss.
"Yes captain!" In truth, Montag had not been listening to the full story. While he found it interesting how fireman had come to burn books, he had tuned out most of Beatty's patriotic talk. Now that he thought about it, Beatty was quoting books after the old woman's suicide. Why was he aloud to quote books like that, but other people like him were not allowed? It made no sense to him. Not wanting to annoy Beatty further, Montag tuned in to what he was saying.
"So, you see, us firemen have a role in society in bringing happiness to people. Books are nothing but misery and torture and they must be destroyed. I hope you understand that Montag," Beatty finished his rant and stared at Montag for a long time, as if daring him to disagree. This made Montag feel slightly uncomfortable with the prolonged eye contact and immediately looked away from him. Beatty had a way of doing that. He could make anyone nervous by staring into the depths of someone's soul. But to Montag, sometimes it felt like Beatty only did that to him. Unfortunately, Beatty did not stop staring at him. Slowly, his tone became gentler and his next reply shocked Montag.
"Are you okay, Montag? I noticed you've been switched off lately. If you want, take as much time off as you need," Beatty asked Montag with genuine concern, before continuing with a cough and cherry-red face. "Not that I care about you or anything, but I uh... need to have my firemen in good health for starting fires... if you uh- know what I mean." Montag could not believe his ears. Beatty had asked him how he felt. He never thought he'd see this side of Beatty before. Slowly, he brought himself to look the captain in the eye and ask the question he'd been dreading to ask.
"What happens if, hypothetically speaking, a fireman accidentally, without meaning to, took a book home?" The look on Beatty's face looked shocked for a moment, before becoming composed again. Slowly, he spoke in his usual tone.
"Well, in that case, the fireman has approximately forty-eight hours to dispose of the book before we come and do the job for him." Hearing those words brought even more fear back into Montag's head. But what made him even more worried was the fact that Beatty was staring straight at him. The stare was not cold, but there was a gentle, carefree feeling in that look. It was like a magnet drawing Montag in and forcing him to stare back. The two stared into each other's eyes for a while, Montag did not know how long. It was as though both wanted to say something, but the time was not right and neither was ready. One day, Montag thought. One day.