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Chief Beatty was waiting for Montag, even though he tried not to seem like it. Even Montag was able to see through it, but Beatty knew the importance of intimidation. The fool had come back but he was far from over his phase. He could see it in his eyes, they were tired, but there was still something left, he was still between fences.
He really hoped Montag would come around, he did not want to have to turn him in. He barely knew about what happened, but he did know it was nothing he’d wish on even his worst enemy. Especially not one of his good men. Most of them went through this way earlier, but Montag had been loyal for ten years. The seed had been there, but it had never truly sprouted. But now it was as if overnight there was a huge tree that had grown. He hoped he could cut it down before it would consume Montag fully.
At least he had brought him the book. He lit a cigarette and threw the book in the trashcan.
They began playing poker, but Montag kept staring at his hands as if they were alien offenders that were out to bring him down. He even went to the toilet, presumably to wash them.
He laughed „Let’s have your hands in sight, Montag. Not that we don’t trust you, understand that …“. He did not like seeing Montag cringe into himself, but he had to do this, before it was too late.
„Well the crisis is past and all is well,“ - he definitely did not believe in what he was saying – „the sheep returns to the fold. We’re all sheep who have strayed at times. Truth is truth, to the end of reckoning, we’ve cried. They are never alone that are accompanied with noble thoughts“ - he thought they were rather foolish - „we’ve shouted to ourselves. ‚Sweet food of sweetly uttered knowledge,‘ Sir Phillip Sidney said. But on the other hand: ‚Words are like leaves and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.‘ Alexander Pope. What do you think of that Montag?“
„I don’t know“
„Or this? ‚A little learning is a dangerous thing. Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring; There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking largely sobers us again.‘ Pope. Same Essay. Where does that put you?“
Montag did not respond. He could see him starting to crumble. Fight them with their own weapons – or fears.
„I’ll tell you. That made you for a little while a drunkard. Read a few lines and off you go over the cliff. Bang you’re ready to blow uo the world, chop off heads, knock down women and children, destroy authority. I know, I’ve been through it all.“ And his fire chief had reigned him back in. He had seen how destructive it could become. Once before, when he had just became fire chief - almost 30 years ago – one of his men had fallen down the dark road. He hadn’t seen it, had closed his eyes, had not taken responsibility.
One day they were on duty, to burn down a house with a hidden extremely big library. There were books in there even he hadn’t seen in all his other years of service. He had foolishly trusted the man, but he had fought back. He released the hound, fought against them. In the end he had lost five of his men and a lot of civilians. He had sworn to never allow that to happen again.
„I’m all right,“ said Montag. It was not a true statement at all.
„Stop blushing. I’m not needling, really I’m not. Do you know, I had a dream an hour ago. I lay down for a cat-nap and in this dream you and I, Motag, got in a furious debate on books. You towered over me with rage, yelled quotes at me. I calmly parried every thrust. Power, I said. And you quoting Dr. Johnson, said ‚Knowledge is more than equivalent to force!‘ And I said, ‚Well, Dr. johnson also said, dear boy, that „He is no wise man that will quit certainty for an uncertaintiy“‘ Stick with the fireman Montag. All else is draery chaos!“
He really hoped, for the sake of all of them, that it would be enough to change Montag, but he feared he had already gone down the rabbit hole too much and would not make it out, not even taking a ladder given to him.