“And after all,” Fanny’s tone was coaxing, “it’s not as though there were anything painful or disagreeable about having one or two men besides Henry. And seeing that you ought to be a little more promiscuous…”
“Stability,” insisted the Controller, “stability. The primal and the ultimate need. Stability. Hence all this.”
With a wave of his hand he indicated the gardens, the huge building of the Conditioning Centre, the naked children running across the lawns.
Lenina shook her head. “I hadn’t been feeling very keen on promiscuity lately. There are times when one doesn’t. Haven’t you found that too, Fanny?”
Fanny nodded her sympathy and understanding. “But one’s got to make the effort,” she said. “One’s got to play the game. After all, everyone belongs to everyone else.”
“Yes, everyone belongs to everyone else,” Lenina repeated slowly and, sighing, was silent for a moment; then, taking Fanny’s hand, gave it a little squeeze. “You’re quite right, Fanny. As usual. I’ll make the effort.”
Impulse arrested spills over, and the flood is feeling, the flood is passion, the flood is even madness. The unchecked stream flows smoothly down its appointed channels into a calm well-being.
“Fortunate boys!” said the Controller. “No pains have been spared to make your lives emotionally easy—to preserve you from having emotions at all.”
“Ford’s in his flivver,” murmured the D.H.C. “All’s well with the world.”
“Lenina Crowne?” said Henry Foster, echoing the Assistant Predestinator’s question. “Oh, she’s a splendid girl. I’m surprised you haven’t had her.”
“I can’t think how it is I haven’t,” said the Assistant Predestinator. “I certainly will. At the first opportunity.”
From his place on the opposite side of the changing-room aisle, Bernard Marx overheard what they were saying and turned pale.
“And to tell the truth,” said Lenina, “I’m beginning to get just a tiny bit bored with nothing but Henry every day.” She pulled on her left stocking. “Do you know Bernard Marx?”
Fanny looked startled. “You don’t mean to say …?”
“Why not? Bernard’s an Alpha Plus. Besides, he asked me to go to one of the Savage Reservations with him. I’ve always wanted to see a Savage Reservation.”
“But his reputation?”
“What do I care about his reputation?”
“They say he doesn’t like Obstacle Golf.”
“They say, they say,” mocked Lenina.
“And then he spends most of his time by himself—alone.” There was horror in Fanny’s voice.
“Well, he won’t be alone when he’s with me. And why are people so beastly to him? I think he’s rather sweet.” She smiled to herself; how absurdly shy he had been! Frightened almost—as though she were a World Controller.
“Consider your own lives,” said Mustapha Mond. “Has any of you ever encountered an insurmountable obstacle?”
The question was answered by a negative silence.
“Has any of you ever had to live through a long time-interval between the consciousness of a desire and its fulfillment[20]?”
“Well,” began one of the boys, and hesitated.
“Speak up,” said the D.H.C.
“I once had to wait nearly four weeks before a girl I wanted would let me have her.”
“And you felt a strong emotion in consequence?”
“Horrible!”
“Horrible; precisely,” said the Controller.
“Talking about her as though she is a bit of meat.” Bernard ground his teeth. “Have her here, have her there … She said she’d think it over, she said she’d give me an answer this week. Oh, Ford, Ford, Ford.” He would have liked to go up to them and hit them in the face—again and again.
“Yes, I really do advise you to try her,” Henry Foster was saying.
“Take Ectogenesis. Pfitzner and Kawaguchi had got the whole technique worked out. But would the Governments look at it? No. There was something called Christianity. Women were forced to go on being viviparous.”
“He’s so ugly!” said Fanny.
“But I rather like his looks.”
“And then so small.” Fanny made a grimace.
“I think that’s rather sweet,” said Lenina.
Fanny was shocked. “They say somebody made a mistake when he was still in the bottle—thought he was a Gamma and put alcohol into his blood-surrogate. That’s why he’s so stunted.”
“What nonsense!” Lenina was indignant.
“Sleep teaching was actually prohibited in England. There was something called liberalism. Parliament, if you know what that was, passed a law against it. The records survive. Speeches about liberty of the subject. Liberty to be inefficient and miserable.”
“You’re welcome, I assure you. You’re welcome.”
Henry Foster patted the Assistant Predestinator on the shoulder. “Everyone belongs to everyone else, after all.”
One hundred repetitions three nights a week for four years, thought Bernard Marx, who was a specialist on hypnopaedia. Sixty-two thousand four hundred repetitions make one truth. Idiots!
“Or the Caste System. Constantly proposed, constantly rejected. There was something called democracy.”
“Well, all I can say is that I’m going to accept his invitation.”
Bernard hated them, hated them. But they were two, they were large, they were strong.
“The Nine Years’ War began in A.F. 141.”
“Not even if it were true about the alcohol in his blood-surrogate.”
“Phosgene, chloropicrin, ethyl iodoacetate, diphenylcyanarsine, trichlormethyl, chloroformate, dichlorethyl sulphide. Not to mention hydrocyanic acid.”
“Which I simply don’t believe,” Lenina concluded.
“The noise of fourteen thousand aeroplanes advancing in open order.”
“Because I do want to see a Savage Reservation.”
CH3C6H2(NO2)3+Hg(CNO)2=well, what? An enormous hole in the ground, a pile of masonry, some bits of flesh and mucus, a foot, with the boot still on it, flying through the air and landing, flop, in the middle of the geraniums!
“You’re hopeless, Lenina, I give up.”
“The Russian technique for infecting water supplies was particularly ingenious.”
Back turned to back, Fanny and Lenina continued their changing in silence.
“The Nine Years’ War, the great Economic Collapse. There was a choice between World Control and destruction. Between stability and…”
“Fanny Crowne’s a nice girl too,” said the Assistant Predestinator.
In the nurseries, the Elementary Class Consciousness lesson was over, the voices were adapting future demand to future industrial supply. “I do love flying,” they whispered, “I do love