Page 104 - BraveNewWorld

104 IDPH

“But aren’t you shortening her life by giving her so much?”
“In one sense, yes,” Dr. Shaw admitted. “But in another we’re actually lengthe-
ning it.” The young man stared, uncomprehending. “Soma may make you lose
a few years in time,” the doctor went on. “But think of the enornous, immeasu-
rable durations it can give you out of time. Every soma-holiday is a bit of what
our ancestors used to call eternity.”
John began to understand. “Eternity was in our lips and eyes,” he murmured.

“Eh?”
“Nothing.”
“Of course,” Dr. Shaw went on, “you can’t allow people to go popping off into
eternity if they’ve got any serious work to do. But as she hasn’t got any serious
work .”

“All the same,” John persisted, “I don’t believe it’s right.”
The doctor shrugged his shoulders. “Well, of course, if you prefer to have her
screaming mad all the time .”

In the end John was forced to give in. Linda got her soma. Thenceforward she
remained in her little room on the thirty-seventh floor of Bernard’s apartment
house, in bed, with the radio and television always on, and the patchouli tap
just dripping, and the soma tablets within reach of her hand- there she remai-
ned; and yet wasn’t there at all, was all the time away, infinitely far away, on
holiday; on holiday in some other world, where the music of the radio was a
labyrinth of sonorous colours, a sliding, palpitating labyrinth, that led (by what
beautifully inevitable windings) to a bright centre of absolute conviction; where
the dancing images of the television box were the performers in some indescri-
bably delicious all- singing feely; where the dripping patchouli was more than
scent-was the sun, was a million saxophones, was Popé making love, only mu-
ch more so, incomparably more, and without end.
“No, we can’t rejuvenate. But I’m very glad,” Dr. Shaw had concluded, “to have
had this opportunity to see an example of senility in a human being. Thank you
so much for calling me in.” He shook Bernard warmly by the hand.

It was John, then, they were all after. And as it was only through Bernard, his ac-
credited guardian, that John could be seen, Bernard now found himself, for the
first time in his life, treated not merely normally, but as a person of outstanding
importance. There was no more talk of the alcohol in his blood-surrogate, no gi-
bes at his personal appearance. Henry Foster went out of his way to be friendly;
Benito Hoover made him a present of six packets of sex-hormone chewing-gum;
the Assistant Predestinator came out and cadged almost abjectly for an invita-
tion to one of Bernard’s evening parties. As for the women, Bernard had only

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