Page 147 - BraveNewWorld

IDPH 147

Bernard dashed to meet them. He waved his arms; and it was action, he was
doing something. He shouted “Help!” several times, more and more loudly so
as to give himself the illusion of helping. “Help! Help! HELP!”
The policemen pushed him out of the way and got on with their work. Three
men with spraying machines buckled to their shoulders pumped thick clouds
of soma vapour into the air. Two more were busy round the portable Synthetic
Music Box. Carrying water pistols charged with a powerful anæsthetic, four
others had pushed their way into the crowd and were methodically laying out,
squirt by squirt, the more ferocious of the fighters.
“Quick, quick!” yelled Bernard. “They’ll be killed if you don’t hurry. They’ll.
Oh!” Annoyed by his chatter, one of the policemen had given him a shot from
his water pistol. Bernard stood for a second or two wambling unsteadily on
legs that seemed to have lost their bones, their tendons, their muscles, to have
become mere sticks of jelly, and at last not even jelly-water: he tumbled in a
heap on the floor.

Suddenly, from out of the Synthetic Music Box a Voice began to speak. The Voi-
ce of Reason, the Voice of Good Feeling. The sound-track roll was unwinding
itself in Synthetic Anti-Riot Speech Number Two (Medium Strength). Straight
from the depths of a non-existent heart, “My friends, my friends!” said the Voi-
ce so pathetically, with a note of such infinitely tender reproach that, behind
their gas masks, even the policemen’s eyes were momentarily dimmed with te-
ars, “what is the meaning of this? Why aren’t you all being happy and good
together? Happy and good,” the Voice repeated. “At peace, at peace.” It trem-
bled, sank into a whisper and momentarily expired. “Oh, I do want you to be
happy,” it began, with a yearning earnestness. “I do so want you to be good!
Please, please be good and .”
Two minutes later the Voice and the soma vapour had produced their effect. In
tears, the Deltas were kissing and hugging one another-half a dozen twins at a
time in a comprehensive embrace. Even Helmholtz and the Savage were almost
crying. A fresh supply of pill-boxes was brought in from the Bursary; a new
distribution was hastily made and, to the sound of the Voice’s ricuy affectionate,
baritone valedictions, the twins dispersed, blubbering as though their hearts
would break. “Good-bye, my dearest, dearest friends, Ford keep you! Good-
bye, my dearest, dearest friends, Ford keep you. Good-bye my dearest, dearest
.”
When the last of the Deltas had gone the policeman switched off the current.
The angelic Voice fell silent.
“Will you come quietly?” asked the Sergeant, “or must we anæsthetize?” He
pointed his water pistol menacingly.

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