Chapter 6. Odd, odd, odd was Lenina's verdict on Bernard Marx. So odd indeed that in the course of the succeeding weeks she had wondered more than once whether she shouldn't change her mind about the New Mexico holiday and go instead to the North Pole with Benito Hoover. The trouble was that she knew the North Pole had been there with George Edsel only last summer, and what was more, found it pretty grim, nothing to do, and the hotel too hopelessly old-fashioned.
No television laid on in the bedrooms, no scent organ, only the most putrid synthetic music, and not more than 25 escalator squash courts for over 200 guests. No, decidedly, she couldn't face the North Pole again. Added to which, she had only been to America once before, and even then, how inadequately.
A cheap weekend in New York, had it been with Jean-Jacques Habiboula or Bokanovsky Jones. She couldn't remember. Anyhow.
It was of absolutely no importance, the prospect of flying west again and for a whole week was very inviting. Moreover, for at least three days of that week they would be in the Savage Reservation. Not more than half a dozen people in the whole center had ever been inside a Savage Reservation.
As an Alpha Plus psychologist, Bernard was one of the few men she knew entitled to a permit. For Lenina the opportunity was unique, and yet so unique also was Bernard's oddness, that she had hesitated to take it. had actually thought of risking the pole again with funny old Benito. At least Benito was normal, whereas Bernard, alcohol in his blood surrogate was Fanny's explanation of every eccentricity.
But Henry, with whom one evening when they were in bed together, Lenina had rather anxiously discussed her new lover, Henry had compared poor Bernard to a rhinoceros. You can't teach a rhinoceros tricks, he had explained in his brief and vigorous style. Some men are almost rhinoceroses.
They don't respond properly to conditioning, poor devils. Bernard's one of them. Luckily for him, he's pretty good at his job, otherwise the director would never have kept him. However, he added consolingly, I think he's pretty harmless.
Pretty harmless, perhaps, but also pretty disquieting. That mania to start with for doing things in private. Which meant in practice not doing anything at all.
For what was there that one could do in private? Apart, of course, from going to bed, but one couldn't do that all the time. Yes, what was there? Precious little. The first afternoon they went out together was particularly fine.
Lenina had suggested a swim at the Torquay Country Club followed by dinner at the Oxford Union. But Bernard thought there would be too much of a crowd. Then what about a round of electromagnetic golf at St. Andrews?
But again, no. Bernard considered that electromagnetic golf was a waste of time. Then what's time for?
asked Lenina in some astonishment. Apparently for going walks in the Lake District, for that was what he now proposed. Land on the top of Skiddaw and walk for a couple of hours in the heather.
Alone with you, Lenina. But Bernard, we shall be alone all night. Bernard blushed and looked away. I meant alone for talking, he mumbled.
Talking? But what about? Walking and talking, that seemed a very odd way of spending an afternoon. In the end, she persuaded him, much against his will, to fly over to Amsterdam to see the semi-demi-finals of the women's heavyweight wrestling championship.
In a crowd, he grumbled, as usual. He remained obstinately gloomy the whole afternoon, wouldn't talk to Lenina's friends, of whom they met dozens in the ice cream Soma bar between the wrestling bouts, and in spite of his misery, absolutely refused to take the half-gram raspberry sundae which she pressed upon him. I'd rather be myself, he said.
myself and nasty, not somebody else, however jolly. A gram in time saves nine, said Lenina, producing a bright treasure of sleep-taught wisdom. Bernard pushed away the proffered glass impatiently. Now don't lose your temper, she said. Remember, one cubic centimeter cures ten gloomy sentiments.
Oh, for Ford's sake, be quiet, he shouted. Lenina shrugged her shoulders. A gram is always better than a damn, she concluded with dignity, and drank the sundae herself.
On their way back across the channel, Bernard insisted on stopping his propeller and hovering on his helicopter screws within a hundred feet of the waves. The weather had taken a change for the worse. A southwesterly wind had sprung up, the sky was cloudy. Look, he commanded. But it's horrible, said Lenina, shrinking back from the window.
She was appalled by the rushing emptiness of the night, by the black foam-flecked water heaving beneath them, by the pale face of the moon so haggard and distracted among the hastening clouds. Let's turn on the radio, quick. She reached for the dialing knob on the dashboard and turned it at random. Skies are blue inside of you, sang sixteen tremoloing falsettos.
The weather's always... Then a hiccup and silence. Bernard had switched off the current. I want to look at the sea in peace, he said.
One can't even look with that beastly noise going on. But it's lovely, and I don't want to look. But I do, he insisted.
It makes me feel as though... He hesitated, searching for words with which to express himself. As though I were more me, if you see what I mean. More on my own, not so completely a part of something else.
Not just a cell in the social body. Doesn't it make you feel like that, Lenina? But Lenina was crying.
It's horrible, it's horrible, she kept repeating. And how can you talk like that about not wanting to be a part of the social body? After all, everyone works for everyone else.
We can't do without anyone, even Epsilons. Yes, I know, said Bernard derisively. Even Epsilons are useful.
So am I, and I damned well wish I weren't. Lenina was shocked by his blasphemy. Bernard, she protested in a voice of amazed distress. How can you, in a different key, how can I? he repeated meditatively.
No, the real problem is, how is it that I can't, or rather, because after all I know quite well why I can't. What would it be like if I could if I were free, not enslaved by my conditioning? But Bernard, you're saying the most awful things.
Don't you wish you were free, Lenina? I don't know what you mean. I am free.
Free to have the most wonderful time. Everybody's happy nowadays. He laughed. Yes, everybody's happy nowadays.
We begin giving the children that at five. But wouldn't you like to be free to be happy in some other way, Lenina? In your own way, for example, not in everybody else's way. I don't know what you mean, she repeated, then turning to him. Oh, do let's go back, Bernard, she besought.
I do so hate it here. Don't you like being with me? But of course, Bernard, it's this horrible place.
I thought we'd be more, more together here with nothing but the sea and moon, more together than in that crowd or even in my rooms. Don't you understand that? I don't understand anything, she said with decision determined to preserve her incomprehension intact. Nothing.
Least of all, she continued in another tone, why you don't take Soma when you have these dreadful ideas of yours, you'd forget all about them, and instead of feeling miserable you'd be jolly, so jolly, she repeated and smiled, for all the puzzled anxiety in her eyes, with what was meant to be an inviting and voluptuous cajolery. He looked at her in silence, his face unresponsive and very grave, looked at her intently. After a few seconds, Lenina's eyes flinched away.
She uttered a nervous little laugh, tried to think of something to say and couldn't. The silence prolonged itself. When Bernard spoke at last, it was in a small, tired voice.
All right then, he said, we'll go back. And stepping hard on the accelerator, he sent the machine rocketing up into the sky. At 4,000, he started his propeller.
They flew in silence for a minute or two. Then suddenly Bernard began to laugh. Rather oddly, Lenina thought, but still, it was laughter.
Feeling better? she ventured to ask. For answer, he lifted one hand from the controls and, slipping his arm round her, began to fondle her breasts. Thank Ford, she said to herself. He's all right again.
Half an hour later they were back in his rooms. Bernard swallowed four tablets of Soma at a gulp, turned on the radio and television, and began to undress. Well, Lenina inquired with significant archness when they met next afternoon on the roof. Did you think it was fun yesterday?
Bernard nodded. They climbed into the plane, a little jolt, and they were off. Everyone says I'm awfully pneumatic, said Lenina reflectively, patting her own legs.
Awfully. But there was an expression of pain in Bernard's eyes. Like meat, he was thinking. She looked up with a certain anxiety.
But you don't think I'm too plump, do you? He shook his head like so much meat. You think I'm all right? Another nod. In every way?
Perfect, he said aloud, and inwardly, she thinks of herself that way. She doesn't mind being meat. Lenina smiled triumphantly, but her satisfaction was premature.
All the same, he went on after a little pause, I still rather wish it had all ended differently. Differently? Were there other endings?
I had the same idea as you, the director was saying. Wanted to have a look at the savages. Got a permit for New Mexico and went there for my summer holiday, with the girl I was having at the moment.
She was a beta minus and I think, He shut his eyes. I think she had yellow hair. Anyhow, she was pneumatic, particularly pneumatic, I remember that.
Well, we went there, and we looked at the savages, and we rode about on horses and all that. And then it was almost the last day of my leave. Then, well, she got lost.
We'd gone riding up one of those revolting mountains, and it was horribly hot and oppressive, and after lunch we went to sleep. Or at least I did. She must have gone for a walk, alone. At any rate, when I woke up she wasn't there and the most frightful thunderstorm I've ever seen was just bursting on us.
And it poured and roared and flashed and the horses broke loose and ran away. And I fell down trying to catch them and hurt my knee so that I could hardly walk. Still I searched and I shouted and I searched.
But there was no sign of her. Then I thought she must have gone back to the rest house by herself. So I crawled down into the valley by the way we had come.
My knee was agonizingly painful and I'd lost my soma. It took me hours. I didn't get back to the rest house till after midnight and she wasn't there, she wasn't there, the director repeated. There was a silence.
Well, he resumed at last. The next day there was a search but we couldn't find her. She must have fallen into a gully somewhere or been eaten by a mountain lion.
Ford knows. Anyhow it was horrible. It upset me very much at the time, more than it ought to have done, I dare say, because after all it's the sort of accident that might have happened to anyone, and of course the social body persists although the component cells may change. But this sleep-taught consolation did not seem to be very effective.
Shaking his head, I actually dream about it sometimes, the director went on in a low voice, dream of being woken up by that peal of thunder and finding her gone, dream of searching and searching for her under the trees. He lapsed into the silence of reminiscence. You must have had a terrible shock, said Bernard, almost enviously. At the sound of his voice, the director started into a guilty realization of where he was. Shot a glance at Bernard, and averting his eyes, blushed darkly.
Looked at him again with sudden suspicion and angrily on his dignity. Don't imagine, he said, that I'd had any indecorous relation with the girl. Nothing emotional, nothing long-drawn. It was all perfectly healthy and normal.
He handed Bernard the permit. I really don't know why I bored you with this trivial anecdote. Furious with himself for having given away a discreditable secret, he vented his rage on Bernard.
The look in his eyes was now frankly malignant. And I should like to take this opportunity, Mr. Marks, he went on, of saying that I'm not at all pleased with the reports I receive of your behavior outside working hours. You may say that this is not my business, but it is. I have the good name of the center to think of.
My workers must be above suspicion, particularly those of the highest castes. Alphas are so conditioned that they do not have to be infantile in their emotional behavior, but that is all the more reason for their making a special effort to conform. It is their duty to be infantile even against their inclination, and so, Mr. Marks, I give you fair warning.
The director's voice vibrated with an indignation that had now become wholly righteous and impersonal, was the expression of the disapproval of society itself. If ever I hear again of any lapse from a proper standard of infantile decorum I shall ask for your transference to a sub-center, preferably to Iceland. Good morning. And swiveling round in his chair he picked up his pen and began to write.
That'll teach him, he said to himself. But he was mistaken, for Bernard left the room with a swagger exulting as he banged the door behind him, in the thought that he stood alone embattled against the order of things, elated by the intoxicating consciousness of his individual significance and importance. Even the thought of persecution left him undismayed was rather tonic than depressing. He felt strong enough to meet and overcome affliction, strong enough to face even Iceland.
And this confidence was the greater for his not-for-a-moment really believing that he would be called upon to face anything at all. People simply weren't transferred for things like that. Iceland was just a threat, a most stimulating and life-giving threat.
Walking along the corridor he actually whistled. Heroic was the account he gave that evening of his interview with the DHC, whereupon it concluded, I simply told him to go to the bottomless past and marched out of the room and that was that. He looked at Helmholtz-Watson expectantly, awaiting his due reward of sympathy, encouragement, admiration. But no word came. Helmholtz sat silent, staring at the floor.
He liked Bernard. He was grateful to him for being the only man of his acquaintance with whom he could talk about the subjects he felt to be important. Nevertheless, there were things in Bernard which he hated, this boasting, for example, and the outbursts of an abject self-pity with which it alternated, and his deplorable habit of being bold after the event and full in absence of the most extraordinary presence of mind.
He hated these things just because he liked Bernard. The seconds passed. Helmholtz continued to stare at the floor, and suddenly Bernard blushed and turned away. The journey was quite uneventful. The Blue Pacific rocket was two and a half minutes early at New Orleans, lost four minutes in a tornado over Texas, but flew into a favorable air current at longitude 95 west and was able to land at Santa Fe less than 40 seconds behind schedule time.
40 seconds on a six and a half hour flight, not so bad, Lenina conceded. They slept that night at Santa Fe. The hotel was excellent, incomparably better, for example, than that horrible Aurora Bora Palace in which Lenina had suffered so much the previous summer.
Liquid air, television, vibro-vacuum massage, radio, boiling caffeine solution, hot contraceptives, and eight different kinds of scent were laid on in every bedroom. The synthetic music plant was working as they entered the hall and left nothing to be desired. A notice in the lift announced that there were 60 escalator squash racket courts in the hotel, and that obstacle and electromagnetic golf could both be played in the park.
But it sounds simply too lovely, cried Lenina. I almost wish we could stay here. Sixty escalator squash courts.
There won't be any in the reservation, Bernard warned her, and no scent, no television, no hot water even. If you feel you can't stand it, stay here till I come back, Lenina was quite offended. Of course I can stand it. I only said it was lovely here because, well, because progress is lovely, isn't it?
Five hundred repetitions once a week from thirteen to seventeen, said Bernard wearily as though to himself. What did you say? I said that progress was lovely, that's why you mustn't come to the reservation unless you really want to.
But I do want to. Very well then, said Bernard, and it was almost a threat. Their permit required the signature of the warden of the reservation, at whose office next morning they duly presented themselves. An Epsilon Plus Negro porter took in Bernard's card.
and they were admitted almost immediately. The warden was a blonde and brachycephalic alpha-minus, short, red, moon-faced and broad-shouldered with a loud booming voice very well adapted to the utterance of hypnopedic wisdom. He was a mind of irrelevant information and unasked for good advice.
Once started, he went on and on, boomingly. 560,000 square kilometers divided into four distinct sub-reservations, each surrounded by a high-tension wire fence. At this moment, and for no apparent reason, Bernard suddenly remembered that he had left the eau de cologne tap in his bathroom wide open and running, supplied with current from the Grand Canyon hydroelectric station.
Cost me a fortune by the time I get back. With his mind's eye, Bernard saw the needle on the centimeter creeping round and round, ant-like, indefatigably. Quickly telephoned to Helmholtz-Watson. Upwards of 5,000 kilometers of fencing at 60,000 volts.
You don't say so. said Lenina politely, not knowing in the least what the warden had said, but taking her cue from his dramatic pause. When the warden started booming, she had inconspicuously swallowed half a gram of soma, with the result that she could now sit, serenely not listening, thinking of nothing at all, but with her large blue eyes fixed on the warden's face in an expression of rapt attention. To touch the fence is instant death, pronounced the warden solemnly. There is no escape from a savage reservation.
The word escape was suggestive. Perhaps, said Bernard half-rising, we ought to think of going. The little black needle was scurrying, an insect nibbling through time, eating into his money. No escape, repeated the warden, waving him back into his chair, and as the permit was not yet countersigned, Bernard had no choice but to obey.
Those who are born in the reservation, and remember, my dear young lady, he added, leering obscenely at Lenina, and speaking in an improper whisper, Remember that in the reservation children still are born, yes, actually born, revolting as that may seem. He hoped that this reference to a shameful subject would make Lenina blush. But she only smiled with simulated intelligence and said, you don't say so.
Disappointed, the warden began again. Those, I repeat, who are born in the reservation are destined to die there. Destined to die. A deciliter of eau de cologne every minute.
Six liters an hour. Perhaps. Bernard tried again. We ought. Leaning forward, the director tapped the table with his forefinger.
You ask me how many people live in the reservation, and I reply, triumphantly, I reply that we do not know, we can only guess. You don't say so. My dear young lady, I do say so.
Six times twenty-four, no, it would be nearer six times thirty-six. Bernard was pale and trembling with impatience. But inexorably, the booming continued. About 60,000 Indians and half-breeds, absolute savages, our inspectors occasionally visit, otherwise no communication whatever with the civilized world, still preserve their repulsive habits and customs.
Marriage, if you know what that is, my dear young lady. Families, no conditioning, monstrous superstitions. Christianity and totemism and ancestor worship. Extinct languages such as Zuni and Spanish and Athapaskan, Pumas, Porcupines and other ferocious animals. Infectious diseases, priests, venomous lizards, you don't say so.
They got away at last. Bernard dashed to the telephone. Quick, quick!
But it took him nearly three minutes to get on to Helmholtz-Watson. We might be among the savages already, he complained. Damned incompetence.
Have a gram, suggested Lenina. He refused, preferring his anger. And at last, thank Ford, he was through, and yes, it was Helmholtz.
Helmholtz, to whom he explained what had happened, and who promised to go round at once, at once, and turn off the tap. Yes, at once, but took this opportunity to tell him what the DHC had said in public yesterday evening. What? He's looking out for someone to take my place?
Bernard's voice was agonized. So it's actually decided? Did he mention Iceland?
You say he did? Ford! Iceland!
He hung up the receiver and turned back to Lenina. His face was pale, his expression utterly dejected. What's the matter? she asked. The matter?
He dropped heavily into a chair. I'm going to be sent to Iceland. Often in the past he had wondered what it would be like to be subjected, soma-less and with nothing but his own inward resources to rely on, to some great trial, some pain, some persecution.
He had even longed for affliction. As recently as a week ago in the director's office he had imagined himself courageously resisting. Stoically accepting suffering without a word.
The director's threats had actually elated him, made him feel larger than life. But that, as he now realized, was because he had not taken the threats quite seriously. He had not believed that, when it came to the point, the DHC would ever do anything. Now that it looked as though the threats were really to be fulfilled, Bernard was appalled.
Of that imagined stoicism, that theoretical courage, not a trace was left. He raged against himself, what a fool, against the director. How unfair not to give him that other chance, that other chance which he now had no doubt at all he had always intended to take. And Iceland, Iceland. Lenina shook her head.
Was and will make me ill, she quoted. I take a gram and only am. In the end she persuaded him to swallow four tablets of Soma.
Five minutes later roots and fruits were abolished. The flower of the present rosily blossomed. A message from the porter announced that At the warden's orders, a reservation guard had come round with a plane and was waiting on the roof of the hotel. They went up at once.
An octoroon in gamma-green uniform saluted and proceeded to recite the morning's program. A bird's-eye view of ten or a dozen of the principal pueblos, then a landing for lunch in the valley of Malpey. The rest house was comfortable there, and up at the pueblo the savages would probably be celebrating their summer festival. It would be the best place to spend the night. They took their seats in the plane and set off.
Ten minutes later they were crossing the frontier that separated civilization from savagery. Uphill and down across the deserts of salt or sand, through forests, into the violet depth of canyons, over crag and peak and tabletopped mesa, the fence marched on and on, irresistibly the straight line, the geometrical symbol of triumphant human purpose. And at its foot here and there a mosaic of white bones, a still unrotted carcass dark on the tawny ground marked the place where deer or steer, puma or porcupine or coyote, or the greedy turkey buzzards drawn down by the whiff of carrion and fulminated as though by a poetic justice, had come too close to the destroying wires.
They never learn, said the green uniformed pilot, pointing down at the skeletons on the ground below them. And they never will learn, he added and laughed as though he had somehow scored a personal triumph over the electrocuted animals. Bernard also laughed after two grams of soma the joke seemed for some reason good, laughed and then almost immediately dropped off to sleep and sleeping was carried over Taos and Tesuque, over Nambe and Picuris and Powakwe, over Sia and Cochiti, over Laguna and Acoma and the Enchanted Mesa, over Zuni and Chibola and Ojo Caliente, and woke at last to find the machine standing on the ground. Lenina carrying the suitcases into a small square house, and the gamma-green octoroon talking incomprehensibly with a young Indian. Malpais, explained the pilot as Bernard stepped out.
This is the rest house and there's a dance this afternoon at the Pueblo. He'll take you there. He pointed to the sullen young savage. Funny, I expect, he grinned.
Everything they do is funny. And with that he climbed into the plane and started up the engines. Back tomorrow and remember.
He added reassuringly to Lenina, they're perfectly tame, savages won't do you any harm, they've got enough experience of gas bombs to know that they mustn't play any tricks. Still laughing, he threw the helicopter screws into gear, accelerated and was gone.