We dropped again till we could see the black fringe of people at the
edge of that glowing square.

At first they only roared against the roar of the surfacers and
levellers. Then the words came up clearly--the words of the Forbidden
Song that all men knew, and none let pass their lips--poor Pat
MacDonough's Song, made in the days of the Crowds and the Plague--every
silly word of it loaded to sparking-point with the Planet's inherited
memories of horror, panic, fear and cruelty. And Chicago--innocent,
contented little Chicago--was singing it aloud to the infernal tune that
carried riot, pestilence and lunacy round our Planet a few
generations ago!

'Once there was The People--Terror gave it birth;
Once there was The People, and it made a hell of earth!'

(Then the stamp and pause):

'Earth arose and crushed it. Listen, oh, ye slain!
Once there was The People--it shall never be again!'

The levellers thrust in savagely against the ruins as the song renewed
itself again, again and again, louder than the crash of the
melting walls.

De Forest frowned.

'I don't like that,' he said. 'They've broken back to the Old Days!
They'll be killing somebody soon. I think we'd better divert
'em, Arnott.'