Yevgeny Zamyatin — We [783]

In the silence, the distinct hum of the wheels was like the noise of inflamed blood. Someone was touched on the shoulder; he started and dropped a roll of papers. And on my left, another—reading the same line in his newspaper over and over, the paper trembling faintly. I felt that everywhere—in the wheels, hands, newspapers, eyelashes—the pulse was beating faster and faster. — Yevgeny Zamyatin, We, 783

Note

Sensory translation of collective dread where mechanical noise becomes internal physiology and fever.