Page 101 - BraveNewWorld

IDPH 101

’even as a little infant,”’ (here the Director made the sign of the T), “he has pro-
ved himself an enemy of Society, a subverter, ladies and gentlemen, of all Order
and Stability, a conspirator against Civilization itself. For this reason I propose
to dismiss him, to dismiss him with ignominy from the post he has held in this
Centre; I propose forthwith to apply for his transference to a Subcentre of the
lowest order and, that his punishment may serve the best interest of Society, as
far as possible removed from any important Centre of population. In Iceland
he will have small opportunity to lead others astray by his unfordly example.”
The Director paused; then, folding his arms, he turned impressively to Bernard.
“Marx,” he said, “can you show any reason why I should not now execute the
judgment passed upon you?”
“Yes, I can,” Bernard answered in a very loud voice.
Somewhat taken aback, but still majestically, “Then show it,” said the Director.

“Certainly. But it’s in the passage. One moment.” Bernard hurried to the door
and threw it open. “Come in,” he commanded, and the reason came in and
showed itself.
There was a gasp, a murmur of astonishment and horror; a young girl screa-
med; standing on a chair to get a better view some one upset two test- tubes
full of spermatozoa. Bloated, sagging, and among those firm youthful bodies,
those undistorted faces, a strange and terrifying monster of middle- agedness,
Linda advanced into the room, coquettishly smiling her broken and discolou-
red smile, and rolling as she walked, with what was meant to be a voluptuous
undulation, her enormous haunches. Bernard walked beside her.
“There he is,” he said, pointing at the Director.

“Did you think I didn’t recognize him?” Linda asked indignantly; then, tur-
ning to the Director, “Of course I knew you; Tomakin, I should have known
you anywhere, among a thousand. But perhaps you’ve forgotten me. Don’t
you remember? Don’t you remember, Tomakin? Your Linda.” She stood loo-
king at him, her head on one side, still smiling, but with a smile that became
progressively, in face of the Director’s expression of petrified disgust, less and
less self-confident, that wavered and finally went out. “Don’t you remember,
Tomakin?” she repeated in a voice that trembled. Her eyes were anxious, ago-
nized. The blotched and sagging face twisted grotesquely into the grimace of
extreme grief. “Tomakin!” She held out her arms. Some one began to titter.
“What’s the meaning,” began the Director, “of this monstrous .”

“Tomakin!” She ran forward, her blanket trailing behind her, threw her arms
round his neck, hid her face on his chest.
A howl of laughter went up irrepressibly.

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