Page 50 - BraveNewWorld

50 IDPH

“Phosphorus recovery,” explained Henry telegraphically. “On their way up
the chimney the gases go through four separate treatments. P2O5 used to go
right out of circulation every time they cremated some one. Now they recover
over ninety-eight per cent of it. More than a kilo and a half per adult corpse.
Which makes the best part of four hundred tons of phosphorus every year from
England alone.” Henry spoke with a happy pride, rejoicing whole-heartedly in
the achievement, as though it had been his own. “Fine to think we can go on
being socially useful even after we’re dead. Making plants grow.”

Lenina, meanwhile, had turned her eyes away and was looking perpendicu-
larly downwards at the monorail station. “Fine,” she agreed. “But queer that
Alphas and Betas won’t make any more plants grow than those nasty little
Gammas and Deltas and Epsilons down there.”
“All men are physico-chemically equal,” said Henry sententiously. “Besides,
even Epsilons perform indispensable services.”
“Even an Epsilon .” Lenina suddenly remembered an occasion when, as a little
girl at school, she had woken up in the middle of the night and become aware,
for the first time, of the whispering that had haunted all her sleeps. She saw
again the beam of moonlight, the row of small white beds; heard once more
the soft, soft voice that said (the words were there, unforgotten, unforgettable
after so many night-long repetitions): “Every one works for every one else. We
can’t do without any one. Even Epsilons are useful. We couldn’t do without
Epsilons. Every one works for every one else. We can’t do without any one
.” Lenina remembered her first shock of fear and surprise; her speculations
through half a wakeful hour; and then, under the influence of those endless
repetitions, the gradual soothing of her mind, the soothing, the smoothing, the
stealthy creeping of sleep..
“I suppose Epsilons don’t really mind being Epsilons,” she said aloud.
“Of course they don’t. How can they? They don’t know what it’s like being
anything else. We’d mind, of course. But then we’ve been differently conditio-
ned. Besides, we start with a different heredity.”
“I’m glad I’m not an Epsilon,” said Lenina, with conviction.

“And if you were an Epsilon,” said Henry, “your conditioning would have
made you no less thankful that you weren’t a Beta or an Alpha.” He put his
forward propeller into gear and headed the machine towards London. Behind
them, in the west, the crimson and orange were almost faded; a dark bank of
cloud had crept into the zenith. As they flew over the crematorium, the plane
shot upwards on the column of hot air rising from the chimneys, only to fall as
suddenly when it passed into the descending chill beyond.
“What a marvellous switchback!” Lenina laughed delightedly.

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