Oh, much worse than the old man, much worse! And suddenly the creature burst out in a torrent of speech, rushed at her with outstretched arms and-Ford! Ford! it was too revolting, in another moment she’d be sick-pressed her against the bulge, the bosom, and began to kiss her. Ford! to kiss, slobberingly, and smelt too horrible, obviously never had a bath, and simply reeked of that beastly stuff that was put into Delta and Epsilon bottles (no, it wasn’t true about Bernard), positively stank of alcohol. She broke away as quickly as she could. A blubbered and distorted face confronted her; the creature was crying.
«Oh, my dear, my dear.» The torrent of words flowed sobbingly. «If you knew how glad-after all these years! A civilized face. Yes, and civilized clothes. Because I thought I should never see a piece of real acetate silk again.» She fingered the sleeve of Lenina’s shirt. The nails were black. «And those adorable viscose velveteen shorts! Do you know, dear, I’ve still got my old clothes, the ones I came in, put away in a box. I’ll show them you afterwards. Though, of course, the acetate has all gone into holes. But such a lovely white bandolier-though I must say your green morocco is even lovelier. Not that it did me much good, that bandolier.» Her tears began to flow again. «I suppose John told you. What I had to suffer-and not a gramme of soma to be had. Only a drink of mescal every now and then, when Popé used to bring it. Popé is a boy I used to know.
But it makes you feel so bad afterwards. the mescal does, and you’re sick with the peyotl; besides it always made that awful feeling of being ashamed much worse the next day. And I was so ashamed. Just think of it: me, a Beta-having a baby: put yourself in my place.» (The mere suggestion made Lenina shudder.) «Though it wasn’t my fault, I swear; because I still don’t know how it happened, seeing that I did all the Malthusian Drill-you know, by numbers, One, two, three, four, always, I swear it; but all the same it happened, and of course there wasn’t anything like an Abortion Centre here. Is it still down in Chelsea, by the way?» she asked. Lenina nodded. «And still floodlighted on Tuesdays and Fridays?» Lenina nodded again. «That lovely pink glass tower!» Poor Linda lifted her face and with closed eyes ecstatically contemplated the bright remembered image.
«And the river at night,» she whispered. Great tears oozed slowly out from behind her tight-shut eyelids. «And flying back in the evening from Stoke Poges. And then a hot bath and vibro-vacuum massage… But there.» She drew a deep breath, shook her head, opened her eyes again, sniffed once or twice, then blew her nose on her fingers and wiped them on the skirt of her tunic. «Oh, I’m so sorry,» she said in response to Lenina’s involuntary grimace of disgust. «I oughtn’t to have done that. I’m sorry. But what are you to do when there aren’t any handkerchiefs? I remember how it used to upset me, all that dirt, and nothing being aseptic. I had an awful cut on my head when they first brought me here. You can’t imagine what they used to put on it. Filth, just filth. ‘Civilization is Sterilization,’ I used to say t them.
And ‘Streptocock-Gee to Banbury-T, to see a fine bathroom and W.C.’ as though they were children. But of course they didn’t understand. How should they? And in the end I suppose I got used to it. And anyhow, how can you keep things clean when there isn’t hot water laid on? And look at these clothes. This beastly wool isn’t like acetate. It lasts and lasts. And you’re supposed to mend it if it gets torn. But I’m a Beta; I worked in the Fertilizing Room; nobody ever taught me to do anything like that. It wasn’t my business. Besides, it never used to be right to mend clothes. Throw them away when they’ve got holes in them and buy new. ‘The more stiches, the less riches.’ Isn’t that right? Mending’s anti-social. But it’s all different here.
It’s like living with lunatics. Everything they do is mad.» She looked round; saw John and Bernard had left them and were walking up and down in the dust and garbage outside the house; but, none the less confidentially lowering her voice, and leaning, while Lenina stiffened and shrank, so close that the blown reek of embryo-poison stirred the hair on her cheek. «For instance,» she hoarsely whispered, «take the way they have one another here. Mad, I tell you, absolutely mad.
Everybody belongs to every one else-don’t they? don’t they?» she insisted, tugging at Lenina’s sleeve. Lenina nodded her averted head, let out the breath she had been holding and managed to draw another one, relatively untainted. «Well, here,» the other went on, «nobody’s supposed to belong to more than one person. And if you have people in the ordinary way, the others think you’re wicked and anti-social. They hate and despise you. Once a lot of women came and made a scene because their men came to see me. Well, why not? And then they rushed at me… No, it was too awful. I can’t tell you about it.» Linda covered her face with her hands and shuddered.
«They’re so hateful, the women here. Mad, mad and cruel. And of course they don’t know anything about Malthusian Drill, or bottles, or decanting, or anything of that sort. So they’re having children all the time-like dogs. It’s too revolting. And to think that I… Oh, Ford, Ford, Ford! And yet John was a great comfort to me. I don’t know what I should have done without him. Even though he did get so upset whenever a man… Quite as a tiny boy, even. Once (but that was when he was bigger) he tried to kill poor Waihusiwa-or was it Popé?-just because I used to have them sometimes. Because I never could make him understand that that was what civilized people ought to do.
Being mad’s infectious I believe. Anyhow, John seems to have caught it from the Indians. Because, of course, he was with them a lot. Even though they always were so beastly to him and wouldn’t let him do all the things the other boys did. Which was a good thing in a way, because it made it easier for me to condition him a little. Though you’ve no idea how difficult that is. There’s so much one doesn’t know; it wasn’t my business to know. I mean, when a child asks you how a helicopter works or who made the world-well, what are you to answer if you’re a Beta and have always worked in the Fertilizing Room? What are you to answer?»
Chapter Eight
OUTSIDE, in the dust and among the garbage (there were four dogs now), Bernard and John were walking slowly up and down.
«So hard for me to realize,» Bernard was saying, «to reconstruct. As though we were living on different planets, in different centuries. A mother, and all this dirt, and gods, and old age, and disease…» He shook his head. «It’s almost inconceivable. I shall never understand, unless you explain.»
«Explain what?»
«This.» He indicated the pueblo. «That.» And it was the little house outside the village. «Everything. All your life.»
«But what is there to say?»
«From the beginning. As far back as you can remember.»
«As far back as I can remember.» John frowned. There was a long silence. It was very hot. They had eaten a lot of tortillas and sweet corn. Linda said, «Come and lie down, Baby.» They lay down together in the big bed. «Sing,» and Linda sang. Sang «Streptocock-Gee to Banbury-T» and «Bye Baby Banting, soon you’ll need decanting.» Her voice got fainter and fainter…
There was a loud noise, and he woke with a start. A man was saying something to Linda, and Linda was laughing. She had pulled the blanket up to her chin, but the man pulled it down again. His hair was like two black ropes, and round his arm was a lovely silver bracelet with blue stones in it. He liked the bracelet; but all the same, he was frightened; he hid his face against Linda’s body. Linda put her hand on him and he felt safer. In those other words he did not understand so well, she said to the man, «Not with John here.» The man looked at him, then again at Linda, and said a few words in a soft voice. Linda said, «No.» But the man bent over the bed towards him and his face was huge, terrible; the black ropes of hair touched the blanket. «No,» Linda said again, and he felt her hand squeezing him more tightly.
«No, no!» But the man took hold of one of his arms, and it hurt. He screamed. The man put up his other hand and lifted him up. Linda was still holding him, still saying, «No, no.» The man said something short and angry, and suddenly her hands
