I asked her whether, on the other hand, there was not a part of his mind which did want to be cured: if pushing the buttons was associated with sensations of pleasure, would he not want to be capable of indulging in it? “You forget,” she answered with a smile of superior wisdom, “that the repressive controls wouldn’t allow it. Only under the disguise of paralysis can he have his gratification.”
As if this were not enough, there appeared to be further complications. On the level of his conscious mind, X-117 resents pushing the buttons not only because it would cause general destruction but also because it would be a crime against his mother in particular. “If it were against his father,” P-867 argued, “this would be a more straightforward case of Oedipus complex. But by substituting his mother for his father he complicates the issue and creates a more profound conflict, for he’s very strongly attached to his mother—abnormally so, by the standards of Level 7 psychology. This is what makes him refuse so stubbornly to do anything against her. His reluctance wouldn’t be nearly so great if he imagined he was going to destroy his father.”
I must say I got pretty muddled by all this. Now I do not know whether X-117 is suffering from paralysis because he enjoys it, or because he does not want to push the buttons, or because he believes in God and thinks there is a divine edict against button-pushing, or because he has mixed up his parents. Probably I have mixed-up P-867’s explanations just as badly.
I do not really care what is the true reason for his paralysis. What affects me is the fact that he is strongly attached (to a degree considered abnormal in this abnormal place) to another human being. The idea fascinates me. To care that much must be a wonderful sensation. When I first heard about X-117’s paralysis I felt glad it was his hand and not mine. Now I envy him his abnormality.
APRIL 15
Our resident philosopher, Ph-107, held forth in the lounge again today. His subject was ‘Freedom on Level 7’.
This time his audience was less attentive, and one or two people broke away to talk quietly among themselves in a corner. The rest listened with half an ear. Perhaps they could not think of anything better to do.
Ph-107 was saying that on Level 7 we enjoyed not only perfect democracy but also absolute freedom. When we were not on duty we could do whatever we liked. Most important, we could discuss quite freely the arrangements on Level 7. There was no secrecy, everything having been planned for the good of all and nothing needing to be hidden from our understanding.
“It is this, really, which gives our life down here the perfection which it could not achieve up above,” he said. “Back there precautions had to be taken against subversion, against enemy spies, against misunderstanding. All that meant curtailing the freedom of the individual for the benefit of society. Here, on Level 7, there are no such dangers. We are hermetically cut off from enemy and ally alike, from spies and from over-inquisitive friends, from strangers and from the ignorant masses. Here everybody is known and everybody is knowing. Everybody can enjoy the individuality which his personal number symbolises. Nobody has contact with the spiritually inferior, though materially superior, outer world—indeed, it is because we are materially cut off from the world that we are able to develop the spiritual side of our natures to this extent. This is true freedom, a freedom which only Level 7 can give.”
He went on in this style, trying to show that liberty could not be misused here, for people chosen to live on Level 7 were reasonable, had little individual power (being dependent on all their fellows), and so on and so forth.
I had some questions I felt like asking—notably, whether a man condemned to solitary confinement but allowed to hammer his head against the wall of his cell could be called free—but I decided to say nothing. What was the use? Let him hammer his speech against us and imagine that he is free. If he believes in what he says, that is.
I was too bored to listen to his speech right to the end, and left the lounge before our time was up. I thought I would rather lie down here on my bunk and listen to some music.
APRIL 16
Today a sensational announcement, addressed to all the crew of Level 7, was repeated several times over the general loudspeaker system. As nearly as I can remember it, the wording was as follows:
“Attention, please, attention everybody! This message is for all members of the crew of Level 7. It is announced that arrangements have been made for marriages on Level 7. If you want to get married, and if the person you wish to marry accepts your proposal, all you have to do is press one of the red buttons, identify yourself, and say: “I intend to marry So-and-so’. You will subsequently be told, through your private loudspeaker, where and when the marriage will take place.
“If you would like to marry somebody but do not feel, for any reason, like proposing directly, or if you have no opportunity to do so, you may make use of the marriage mediation service. You simply have to press the red button, identify yourself, and say: ‘I should like to marry So-and-so. Please mediate.’ Your proposal will be transmitted to the appropriate person, and you will receive his or her answer by private loudspeaker.
“You may send either sort of message at any time around the clock, for it will be automatically tape-recorded before being transferred to the appropriate section. Thank you.”
This repeated announcement was followed up this evening by a short ‘special’ talk in the ‘Know Thy Level’ series. The speaker explained the great significance of marriage as a social institution from time immemorial. Then came a eulogy on the psychological benefits enjoyed by married couples. Finally—and this was the climax of her argument for marriage—she reminded us of our duty (our ‘obligation to humanity’, she called it) to carry on the existence of the human race in the safe living-conditions of Level 7.
While these stirring thoughts were sinking in she added a few practical details. The number of men on Level 7 was exactly the same as the number of women—250 of each; everybody therefore stood a fair chance of finding a partner. Marriages had been taken into consideration when Level 7 was planned. All the men and women were very healthy and stood the best possible chance of having healthy offspring. Moreover, as their ages were all between twenty and thirty, their children would reach adulthood in time to take over the running of Level 7.
“Necessarily, it will not be possible for married couples to have their own living-quarters,” the speaker went on. “The lack of space, as well as the performance of duties, requires the continuation of the present system of living-rooms attached to working-rooms. However, special rooms for married couples have been provided, and will be allotted to each couple for a certain period each day. There are ten such rooms, which means that if everybody is married there will be approximately one hour of privacy for each couple every day.”
The speaker ended by wishing all prospective couples good luck. “Don’t be shy,” she said. “Choose your mate and push the nearest red button.”
APRIL 18
The announcement about marriage facilities has created quite a stir on Level 7. At meals, when about a third of the crew meets at one time along the long table (we eat in three shifts), people do not take the nearest place on the bench as they used to, but wander around trying to find an attractive partner of the opposite sex. This results in some disorder, but ‘promotes the interests of humanity’.
Nobody seems to be in love, as far as I can telclass="underline" probably we are incapable of feeling a strong social emotion like that, with the exception of X-117 and perhaps some other people who have come here by mistake. But at least things are a bit livelier than they were. Somebody who did not know what it was all about might think we had just enjoyed a glass of brandy. If this keeps up, it will not be long before the 500 bachelors and spinsters on Level 7 have become 250 married couples.