Patiently the D.H.C. explained. If the children were made to scream at the sight of a rose, that was on grounds of high economic policy. Not so very long ago (a century or thereabouts), Gammas, Deltas, even Epsilons, had been conditioned to like flowers-flowers in particular and wild nature in general. The idea was to make them want to be going out into the country at every available opportunity, and so compel them to consume transport.
«And didn’t they consume transport?» asked the student.
«Quite a lot,» the D.H.C. replied. «But nothing else.» Primroses and landscapes, he pointed out, have one grave defect: they are gratuitous. A love of nature keeps no factories busy. It was decided to abolish the love of nature, at any rate among the lower classes; to abolish the love of nature, but not the tendency to consume transport. For of course it was essential that they should keep on going to the country, even though they hated it. The problem was to find an economically sounder reason for consuming transport than a mere affection for primroses and landscapes. It was duly found.
«We condition the masses to hate the country,» concluded the Director. «But simultaneously we condition them to love all country sports. At the same time, we see to it that all country sports shall entail the use of elaborate apparatus. So that they consume manufactured articles as well as transport. Hence those electric shocks.»
«I see,» said the student, and was silent, lost in admiration. There was a silence; then, clearing his throat, «Once upon a time,» the Director began, «while our Ford was still on earth, there was a little boy called Reuben Rabinovitch. Reuben was the child of Polish-speaking parents.» The Director interrupted himself. «You know what Polish is, I suppose?»
«A dead language.»
«Like French and German,» added another student, officiously showing off his learning.
«And ‘parent’?» questioned the D.H.C.
There was an uneasy silence. Several of the boys blushed. They had not yet learned to draw the significant but often very fine distinction between smut and pure science. One, at last, had the courage to raise a hand.
«Human beings used to be…» he hesitated; the blood rushed to his cheeks. «Well, they used to be viviparous.»
«Quite right.» The Director nodded approvingly.
«And when the babies were decanted…»
«‘Born,'» came the correction.
«Well, then they were the parents-I mean, not the babies, of course; the other ones.» The poor boy was overwhelmed with confusion.
«In brief,» the Director summed up, «the parents were the father and the mother.» The smut that was really science fell with a crash into the boys’ eye-avoiding silence.
«Mother,» he repeated loudly rubbing in the science; and, leaning back in his chair, «These,» he said gravely, «are unpleasant facts; I know it. But then most historical facts are unpleasant.»
He returned to Little Reuben-to Little Reuben, in whose room, one evening, by an oversight, his father and mother (crash, crash!) happened to leave the radio turned on.
(«For you must remember that in those days of gross viviparous reproduction, children were always brought up by their parents and not in State Conditioning Centres.»)
While the child was asleep, a broadcast programme from London suddenly started to come through; and the next morning, to the astonishment of his crash and crash (the more daring of the boys ventured to grin at one another), Little Reuben woke up repeating word for word a long lecture by that curious old writer («one of the very few whose works have been permitted to come down to us»), George Bernard Shaw, who was speaking, according to a well-authenticated tradition, about his own genius. To Little Reuben’s wink and snigger, this lecture was, of course, perfectly incomprehensible and, imagining that their child had suddenly gone mad, they sent for a doctor. He, fortunately, understood English, recognized the discourse as that which Shaw had broadcasted the previous evening, realized the significance of what had happened, and sent a letter to the medical press about it.
«The principle of sleep-teaching, or hypnopaedia, had been discovered.» The D.H.C. made an impressive pause.
The principle had been discovered; but many, many years were to elapse before that principle was usefully applied.
«The case of Little Reuben occurred only twenty-three years after Our Ford’s first T-Model was put on the market.» (Here the Director made a sign of the T on his stomach and all the students reverently followed suit.) «And yet…» Furiously the students scribbled. » Hypnopaedia, first used officially in A.F. 214. Why not before? Two reasons. (a)…»
«These early experimenters,» the D.H.C. was saying, «were on the wrong track. They thought that hypnopaedia could be made an instrument of intellectual education…» (A small boy asleep on his right side, the right arm stuck out, the right hand hanging limp over the edge of the bed. Through a round grating in the side of a box a voice speaks softly.
«The Nile is the longest river in Africa and the second in length of all the rivers of the globe. Although falling short of the length of the Mississippi-Missouri, the Nile is at the head of all rivers as regards the length of its basin, which extends through 35 degrees of latitude…»
At breakfast the next morning, «Tommy,» some one says, «do you know which is the longest river in Africa?» A shaking of the head. «But don’t you remember something that begins: The Nile is the…»
«The — Nile — is — the — longest — river — in — Africa — and — the — second — in — length — of — all — the — rivers — of — the — globe…» The words come rushing out. «Although — falling — short — of…»
«Well now, which is the longest river in Africa?» The eyes are blank. «I don’t know.»
«But the Nile, Tommy.»
«The — Nile — is — the — longest — river — in — Africa — and — second…»
«Then which river is the longest, Tommy?»
Tommy burst into tears. «I don’t know,» he howls.) That howl, the Director made it plain, discouraged the earliest invesfigators. The experiments were abandoned. No further attempt was made to teach children the length of the Nile in their sleep. Quite rightly. You can’t learn a science unless you know what it’s all about.
«Whereas, if they’d only started on moral education,» said the Director, leading the way towards the door. The students followed him, desperately scribbling as they walked and all the way up in the lift. «Moral education, which ought never, in any circumstances, to be rational.»
«Silence, silence,» whispered a loud speaker as they stepped out at the fourteenth floor, and «Silence, silence,» the trumpet mouths indefatigably repeated at intervals down every corridor. The students and even the Director himself rose automatically to the tips of their toes. They were Alphas, of course, but even Alphas have been well conditioned. «Silence, silence.» All the air of the fourteenth floor was sibilant with the categorical imperative.
Fifty yards of tiptoeing brought them to a door which the Director cautiously opened. They stepped over the threshold into the twilight of a shuttered dormitory. Eighty cots stood in a row against the wall. There was a sound of light regular breathing and a continuous murmur, as of very faint voices remotely whispering. A nurse rose as they entered and came to attention before the Director.
«What’s the lesson this afternoon?» he asked.
«We had Elementary Sex for the first forty minutes,» she answered. «But now it’s switched over to Elementary Class Consciousness.» The Director walked slowly down the long line of cots. Rosy and relaxed with sleep, eighty little boys and girls lay seftly hreathing. There was a whisper under every pillow. The D.H.C. halted and, bending over one of the little beds, listened attentively.
«Elementary Class Consciousness, did you say? Let’s have it repeated a little louder by the trumpet.»
At the end of the room a loud speaker projected from the wall. The Director walked up to it and pressed a switch.
«… all wear green,» said a soft but very distinct voice, beginning in the middle of a sentence, «and Delta Children wear khaki. Oh no, I don’t want to play with Delta children. And Epsilons are still worse. They’re too stupid to be able to read or write. Besides they wear black, which is such a beastly colour. I’m so glad I’m a Beta.» There was a pause; then the voice began again.
«Alpha children wear grey They work much harder than we do, because they’re so frightfully clever. I’m really awfuly glad I’m a Beta, because I don’t work so hard. And then we are much better than the Gammas and Deltas. Gammas are stupid. They all wear green, and Delta children wear khaki. Oh no, I don’t want to play with Delta children. And Epsilons are still worse. They’re too stupid to be able…» The Director pushed back the switch. The voice was silent. Only its thin ghost continued to mutter from beneath the eighty pillows.
«They’ll have that repeated forty or fifty times more before they wake; then again on Thursday, and again on Saturday. A hundred and twenty times three times a week for thirty months. After which they go on to a more advanced lesson.» Roses and electric shocks, the khaki of Deltas and a whiff of asafoetida-wedded indissolubly before the child can speak. But wordless conditioning is crude and wholesale; cannot bring home the finer distinctions, cannot inculcate the more complex courses of behaviour. For that there must be words, but words without reason. In brief, hypnopaedia.
«The greatest moralizing and socializing force of all time.» The students took it down in their little books. Straight from the horse’s
