Chapter 17 Chapter Sixteen
The room into which the three were introduced was the president's study.
"His Majesty the President will come down immediately." Chief Butler Gamma left them there.
Helmholtz laughed out loud.
"It's not like a trial, but coffee, please," he said, and sank into the most luxurious air-cushioned sofa. "Don't be discouraged, Bernard." He caught a glimpse of his friend's livid, unhappy face. , said again.Bernard was discouraged.He didn't answer, didn't even look at him, but went and sat down in the most uncomfortable chair in the room.That was his careful choice, secretly hoping to alleviate the chief's anger to some extent.
Meanwhile the Savage paced restlessly about the room, peering with vague superficial curiosity at the books, tapes, and reading machine spools in numbered compartments on the shelves.On the table under the window was a huge book with a huge gold T stamped on the soft black faux leather cover.He picked up the book and opened it. "My Life and Work" by my Lord Ford.Published in Detroit by the Ford Institute for the Advancement of Knowledge.He lazily flipped through a few pages, reading a sentence here and a paragraph there, just as he was about to conclude that this book did not interest him when the door opened and the World President who was stationed in Western Europe stepped briskly in.
Mustapha Mond shook hands with each of them, but addressed the savage. "You don't seem to like civilization very much, Mr. Savage," he said.
The Savage looked at him.He had contemplated lying, bragging, or huffing and saying nothing, but the kindness on the President's face reassured him that he was determined to speak the truth. "I don't like it." He shook his head.
Bernard was taken aback, his face full of panic.What would the president think?To accuse him of being friends with people who don't like civilization - and publicly in front of the President, not in front of other people, is horrible. "But, John..." he began.But Mustapha Mond glanced at him, and he humbly shut up.
"Of course," continued the Savage, "there are some good ones. Music in the air..."
"Sometimes the sounds of a thousand strings will haunt me, and sometimes there will be singing," the president said.
The Savage's face suddenly beamed with joy. "Have you read Shakespeare, too?" he asked. "I thought it was unknown in this part of England."
"Very few people know, and I'm one of the very few who do. That book is forbidden, you see. But since I made the laws here, I can certainly disobey them. I have immunity, Mr. Marx." ’” he added, turning to Bernard, “and you, I’m afraid you cannot disobey.”
Bernard sank into a still more desperate agony.
"But why ban Shakespeare?" asked the Savage.Excited to meet someone who had read Shakespeare, he forgot about everything else for a while.
The president shrugged. "Because Shakespeare is old, that's the main reason. Old stuff is totally useless here."
"Even beauty is useless?"
"Especially things that are beautiful. Beauty is attractive, and we don't want people to be drawn to the old. We want them to like the new."
"But these new things are so stupid and scary. There's nothing in those new scenes but helicopters flying around and kisses you can feel." He grimaced. "Goats and monkeys." It is only in Othello that he finds the words to express his contempt and abhorrence.
"Lovely, tame animals, anyway," the President murmured in.
"Why don't you try to show them Othello instead?"
"Othello, as I told you, is too old. Besides, they can't read it."
Yes, that's right.He remembered how Helmholtz had laughed at Romeo and Juliet. "Then," he said after a pause, "get something new they can understand, something like Othello."
"That's exactly what we want to write about." There was a long silence, which Helmholtz broke in.
"But that's something you can never write," said the President, "because if it's really like Othello, no one will understand it, no matter how new it is. And if it's new, it can't be like "Othello."
"why?"
"Yes, why?" Helmholtz asked.He had also forgotten his embarrassing situation.But Bernard kept the situation in mind, he was anxious and afraid, his face was ashen.Others ignored him. "why?"
"Because our world is different from the world of "Othello". You can't make a car without steel, and you can't make a tragedy without social unrest. Now the world is stable, people live a happy life, what do you want? What is there, what they can't get they will never want. They are rich, they are safe, they are never sick, they are not afraid of death, they are happy, they don't know passion and old age, they don't have any parents to trouble them, Nor do wives, children, and lovers call them passions, and they are conditioned so that they are practically obliged not to act the way set for them. And in case something happens there is soma—that you throw out the window in the name of liberty What the hell, Mister Savage, freedom!" He laughed, "I want the Deltas to know what freedom is! And now I want them to know Othello! My dear boy!"
The Savage was silent for a while and said, "But "Othello" is always good, and "Othello" is better than sensual movies."
"Of course it's good," the President agreed, "but that's the price we pay for stability. You have to choose between happiness and what people call high art. We've replaced high art with sensual films and scented musical instruments. "
"But those things mean nothing."
"The meaning is in them. They mean a lot of sensuality to the audience."
"But they are... stories told by an idiot."
The president laughed. "You are not very polite to your friend Mr. Watson, he is a most outstanding emotional engineer..."
"But he's right," said Helmholtz gloomily. "He's an idiot for writing when he has nothing to write about..."
"Speaking bluntly, but that just requires the greatest ingenuity to make a car using as little steel as possible--actually using almost nothing but feel, to make a work of art."
The Savage shook his head. "It seems horrific to me."
"Of course it's terrible. Compared with the too high price of suffering, real happiness often seems quite cheap. And, of course, stability is far less lively than turmoil, and contentment is not as moving as a life-and-death struggle against misfortune, and it is not as good as resisting temptation." , or turned upside down by passion and doubt. Happiness is never great."
"I think so," said the Savage, after pondering for a while, "but doesn't it have to be so bad that there are more children?" He wiped his eyes with his hand, as if trying to erase the stain on the assembly table. Row after row of identical dwarves; wipe out the superborn swarm that lined up at the gate of the Blemford monorail station; Get rid of the same faces that attack him.He looked at his bandaged left hand and shuddered. "fear!"
"But what a use! You don't like our Bokanovsky groups, I understand; but I assure you, they form the foundation and everything else is built on them. They are the backbone of the stable state. Rocket planes, directional gyroscopes to keep them on track." The deep voice vibrated thrillingly, and the excited gestures suggested the entire cosmic space and the irresistible rush of the aircraft.The beauty of Mustapha Mond's narration is almost up to the standards of synth music.
"I wonder," said the Savage, "why do you still breed such people?—since you can get everything out of those bottles, why don't you make everyone Alpha Double Plus?"
Mustapha Mond laughed. "Because we don't want our throats cut," he replied, "we believe in happiness and stability. An all-alpha society is bound to be turbulent and miserable. Imagine a factory made entirely of alphas—that is, all A factory of siled, uncaring individuals, genetically superior, conditions set up for freedom of choice within a certain range, willing to take responsibility. Just imagine!" he repeated.
The savage imagined it, but could not think of any reason.
"That's absurd. Telling someone who changes bottles by Alpha standards and sets by Alpha conditions to do the job of an Epsilon half-idiot would go nuts - go crazy or he'd smash things. Alpha can totally Social - but on one condition: you have to let them do the alpha job. Epsilon-style sacrifices can only be made by epsilons. For a good reason, epsilons don't They feel that they are making sacrifices, and they are the least resistant group. Their conditional setting has paved the track for them, so that they must run along the track. Still in the bottle—they're held in place like a baby, an embryo, by an invisible bottle. Of course, each of us, "the President mused, "lives in a bottle. But if we are lucky enough to be alphas, our bottles are relatively roomy. Lock us up in tight spaces and we suffer. Obviously in theory, you can't put a high-caste champagne into a low-caste champagne In the bottle. In practice, it has also been proven. The results of the Cyprus experiment are very convincing."
"What experiment?" asked the Savage.
Mustapha Mond smiled. "Call it a re-bottle experiment, if you like. It started in 473 AD. The President cleared out the entire population of the island of Cyprus and housed 22,000 specially prepared Alphas. Let them manage all their industrial and agricultural equipment. The results are completely consistent with all the theoretical predictions. The land is not cultivated properly, the factories are on strike, the laws and regulations are lax, and the orders are not good. People who are ordered to do low-level jobs for a period of time always engage in conspiracy. become a high-level job. And those who do high-level jobs fight back at all costs to keep their current positions. In less than six years, the highest-level civil war broke out. When 220,000 people died and 190,000, The survivors sent a petition to the presidents demanding the restoration of the island. They accepted. And so ended the only all-alpha society the world had ever seen."
The Savage sighed deeply.
"The optimal ratio of the population is," says Mustapha Mond, "on the iceberg pattern—eight-ninths are underwater and one-ninth is above water."
"Can people under water be happy?"
"Happier than the people on the water. Happier than your two friends here, here." He pointed to them both.
"Despite doing that horrible job?"
"Scary? They don't think it's scary. On the contrary, they like it because it's leisure, as simple as a child's play, without training the mind and muscles. Seven and a half hours is not heavy labor, and then there is a ration of soma, games, Unrestricted sex and sensual movies. What more could they ask for? Yes,” he went on, “they might ask for a shortened work day. Of course we can give them shortened days. Technically, the jobs of lower castes It would be a no-brainer to shorten the day to three or four hours. But would they be any happier for it? No, it wouldn't. There was an experiment done a century and a half ago. All of Ireland changed to four hours a day. What was the result? Turmoil Uneasiness and higher consumption of soma, that's all. That extra three and a half hours of leisure, far from being a source of happiness, compelled them to take a soma vacation. The Bureau of Inventions was stuffed with schemes to reduce labor, There are thousands." Mustapha Mond made a gesture indicating many, "Why don't we do it? It is for the benefit of the laborers. It is cruel to torture them with too much leisure. The same is true for agriculture. As long as We would, every bite of food could be synthesized. But we don't, we'd rather keep one-third of the population on the land, it's for their own good, because getting food from the land is slower than from the factory. And we also We have to think about stability and not want change. Every change threatens stability, which is yet another reason why we are so reluctant to apply new inventions. Every discovery in pure science is potentially disruptive. Even science has to be as a possible enemy. Yes, even science."
"Science?" The Savage frowned.He knew the word, but couldn't tell what it meant.Shakespeare and the old Indian village men never mentioned science.From Linda, he only got the vaguest impression: science is what you use to build helicopters, what makes you laugh at corn dancers, what keeps you from getting wrinkles and teeth.He tried his best to catch the President's meaning.
"Yes," said Mustapha Mond, "that is yet another price to pay for stability. It is not only art that is incompatible with happiness, but also science. Science is dangerous, and we have to treat it carefully." Put on the bridle and put on the chain."
"What?" Helmholtz was taken aback. "But we always say that science is everything. That's the old tune in sleep education."
"Thirteen to seventeen, three times a week," put in Bernard.
"And all the publicity we do in college..."
"Yes, but what kind of science is that?" said Mustapha Mond sharply. "You have no scientific training to judge. I turned out to be a good physicist, too good—so I Understand that all our science is nothing but a cookbook. The orthodox cooking theory in the book is not allowed to be doubted by anyone. There is also a large number of cooking techniques that are not allowed to be included in the book without the approval of the chef. I Now a master cooker, but was once an inquisitive dishwashing boy. I've done some illegal, unorthodox, shady cooking myself. A real scientific experiment, actually." He was silent for a moment.
"What happened then?" asked Helmholtz Watson.
The president sighed. "Almost what happened to you, young man. I was almost sent to an island."
One sentence frightened Bernard out of his wits, and he made an unseemly excess.
"Send me to the island?" He jumped up and walked across the house to the President, gesticulating, "You can't send me, I didn't do anything, someone else did it, I swear it's like that ’” He pointed at Helmholtz and the Savages, “Oh, please don’t send me to Iceland. I’ll do whatever I have to. Give me one more chance, please!” He couldn’t help crying "I'm telling you, it's all their fault," he sobbed, "don't let me go to Iceland. Ah, please, Mr. President. Please..." He broke out in meanness and knelt at the President's feet.Mustapha Mond tried to help him up, but he lay on the ground, babbling endlessly.In the end the president had to ring the bell to call his fourth secretary.
"Bring three men," he ordered, "take Mr. Marx to the bedroom, give him a dose of soma mist, put him to bed, and let him sleep."
The fourth secretary went out and brought back three servants in green uniforms.Bernard was led out screaming and sobbing.
"They thought his throat was going to be slit," said the President as the door closed, "but if he had a little brains he would understand that it was a compensation. He was going to be sent to an island, That means he's going to be sent to a place where he can meet the most interesting men and women in the world. People who are, for some reason, self-consciously independent, who don't fit in with society, who don't like what's orthodox, Have an independent mind of your own. All in all a character. I'm almost jealous of you, Mr. Watson."
Helmholtz smiled. "Then why aren't you on an island now?"
"Because I chose here at last," replied the President, "and they had given me the choice: to be sent to an island to pursue my pure science, or to be placed on the Presidential Council with the prospect of succeeding to the Presidency in due course. .I chose this over science. Sometimes,” he said, “I regret giving up science. Happiness is a difficult boss to serve—especially the happiness of others. If you can accept happiness without asking questions, then happiness is much more difficult to serve than truth.” He sighed, fell silent again, and then continued in a more lively tone, “Okay, duty is duty , what should be chosen is non-negotiable. I am interested in truth, I like science. But truth is a threat, and science is a threat to society. It is as harmful as it is good. It has given us the most balanced stability in history .Compared with our stability, China's stability can only be regarded as the most unreliable. Even the primitive matriarchal society will not be more stable than ours. I repeat, we should be grateful for science, but we cannot let science destroy itself Good job, so we carefully controlled the scope of its research - which is why I was almost sent to the island. Except for the most urgent problems at the moment, we did not approach it in a scientific way. Everything else explored All must be contained very carefully." He paused for a moment, then added, "It is very interesting to read what people in my Lord Ford's day have written about the progress of science," he added after a pause, "People at that time seemed to imagine that science could go on indefinitely, that knowledge was the highest good, truth the highest value, and that everything else was secondary and subordinate. Even then, it is true, ideas had Begin to change. My Lord Ford has made great efforts to shift the emphasis on truth and beauty to comfort and happiness. Mass production requires this transformation. The happiness of the crowd keeps the wheels running steadily; Beauty is no good. And, of course, as long as the masses are in power, happiness will be more important than truth and beauty. But, nevertheless, unrestricted scientific research was allowed at that time. People are still talking about truth and beauty. Beauty, as if they were the highest good, right up to the Nine Years' War. That war changed their tune completely. Anthrax bombs go off all around you. What do beauty and knowledge mean to you? That's when science was controlled for the first time - after the Nine Years' War, when people were ready to tighten their belts. Anything can be given up for a stable life. We controlled. Of course , that is not very good for truth, but very good for happiness. What is gained must be lost, and happiness has a price to pay. You will pay the price, Mr. Watson--because the interest in beauty is too strong. Pay the price. I was too interested in the truth, and I paid the price."
"But you have never been to the island," said the Savage, breaking the long silence.
The president smiled. "My price is: to serve happiness. To serve other people's happiness, not my own. Fortunately," he went on after a pause, "there are so many islands in the world. If there were not so many islands I really don't know what to do. Looks like we'll have to send you all to the gas chambers. By the way, do you like equatorial climates? Islands, or something more exciting to you?"
Helmholtz rose from his air-cushioned sofa. "I'd rather choose a place where the weather is extremely bad," he replied, "I believe that a bad climate will make me write better. For example, there are often violent storms..."
The president nodded approvingly. "I like your spirit, Mr. Watson, very much indeed, as I officially object to it." He smiled. "So how?"
"Well, I think so," replied Helmholtz, "and now, if you don't mind, I'm going to see how poor Bernard is doing."
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