Metropolis by Thea von Harbou — Read

"Father -- ! ! "

Joh Fredersen's son knew quite well that his father could not hear him, for he, the son, was standing in the lowest part of the pedestal of the New Tower of Babel, whither the twitching pulse of the street had thrown him, and his father was high, high, above the boiling of the city, the untouched brain, in the cool brainpan. But yet he shouted for him and had to shout, and his shout, itself, was a cry for help and an accusation.