A voice cried, “There’s Montag! The search is done!” The innocent man stood bewildered, a cigarette burning in his hand. He stared at the hound, not knowing what it was. He probably never knew that. He glanced up at the sky and the wailing sirens. The camera rushed down to the ground. The Hound leapt up into the air with a rhythm and a sense of timing that was incredibly beautiful. Its needle shot out of the air. It was suspended for a moment in their gaze, as if to give the vast audience time to appreciate everything, the raw look of the victim’s face, the empty street, the steel animal, a bullet nosing the target. “Montag, don’t move!” said a voice from the sky.- media people” (Bradbury 164) In this part of the book, Bradbury shows readers how the media censors everything. In this part, Montag is running away from the firemen and is trying to escape. The media is broadcasting all this but right when he escapes they find someone else and kill him and say he was a montag. This type of media censoring isn't something that is fake and unreal, even right now, media is censored …show more content…
This skill is fully taken by their technology and it does it for them. Throughout the text, Bradbury shows readers that the society has lost its way of thinking. The biggest way he does this is through Clarisse, “Oh, they don’t miss me,” she said. “I’m antisocial, they say. I don’t mix it up. It’s so strange, he said. I’m very social indeed. It all depends on what you mean by social, doesn’t it? Social to me means talking to you about things like this.” She rattled some chestnuts that had fallen off the tree in the front yard. Or talking about how strange the world is. Being with people is nice. But I don’t think it’s social to get a bunch of people together and then not let them talk, do you? An hour of TV class, an hour of basketball or baseball or running, another hour of transcription history or painting pictures, and more sports, but do you know, we never ask questions, or at least most don’t. They just run the answers at you, bing, bing, bing, and us sitting there for four more hours of film-teacher. That’s not social to me at all. It’s a lot of funnels and a lot of water poured down the spout and out the bottom, and them telling us it’s wine when it’s not. They run us so ragged by the end of the day we can’t do anything but go to bed or head for a Fun Park to bully people around, break window panes in the Window Smasher place or wreck