The Registry was presided over by a woman who looked like a strict nurs-ery governess. Her hair was rolled into a rather hideous1 bun and she worevery efficient-looking pince-nez. She nodded approval as the Bettertonsentered the severe office-like room.
“Ah,” she said. “You’ve brought Mrs. Betterton. That’s right.”
Her English was perfectly2 idiomatic3 but it was spoken with a stilted4 pre-cision which made Hilary believe that she was probably a foreigner. Actu-ally, her nationality was Swiss. She motioned Hilary to a chair, opened adrawer beside her and took out a sheaf of forms upon which she com-menced to write rapidly. Tom Betterton said rather awkwardly:
“Well then, Olive, I’ll leave you.”
“Yes please, Dr. Betterton. It’s much better to get through all the formal-ities straight away.”
Betterton went out, shutting the door behind him. The Robot, for as suchHilary thought of her, continued to write.
“Now then,” she said, in a businesslike way. “Full name, please. Age.
Where born. Father and mother’s names. Any serious illnesses. Tastes.
Hobbies. List of any jobs held. Degrees at any university. Preferences infood and drink.”
It went on, a seemingly endless catalogue. Hilary responded vaguely5, al-most mechanically. She was glad now of the careful priming she had re-ceived from Jessop. She had mastered it all so well that the responsescame automatically, without having to pause or think. The Robot said fi-nally, as she made the last entry:
“Well, that seems to be all for this department. Now we’ll hand you overto Doctor Schwartz for medical examination.”
“Really!” said Hilary. “Is all this necessary? It seems most absurd.”
“Oh, we believe in being thorough, Mrs. Betterton. We like to haveeverything down in the records. You’ll like Dr. Schwartz very much. Thenfrom her you go on to Doctor Rubec.”
Dr. Schwartz was fair and amiable6 and female. She gave Hilary a metic-ulous physical examination and then said:
“So! That is finished. Now you go to Dr. Rubec.”
“Who is Dr. Rubec?” Hilary asked. “Another doctor?”
“Dr. Rubec is a psychologist.”
“I don’t want a psychologist. I don’t like psychologists.”
“Now please don’t get upset, Mrs. Betterton. You’re not going to havetreatment of any kind. It’s simply a question of an intelligence test and ofyour type-group personality.”
Dr. Rubec was a tall, melancholy7 Swiss of about forty years of age. Hegreeted Hilary, glanced at the card that had been passed on to him by Dr.
Schwartz and nodded his head approvingly.
“Your health is good, I am glad to see,” he said. “You have had an aero-plane crash recently, I understand.”
“Yes,” said Hilary. “I was four or five days in hospital at Casablanca.”
“Four or five days is not enough,” said Dr. Rubec reprovingly. “Youshould have been there longer.”
“I didn’t want to be there longer. I wanted to get on with my journey.”
“That, of course, is understandable, but it is important with concussionthat plenty of rest should be had. You may appear quite well and normalafter it but it may have serious effects. Yes, I see your nerve reflexes arenot quite what they should be. Partly the excitement of the journey andpartly, no doubt, due to concussion8. Do you get headaches?”
“Yes. Very bad headaches. And I get muddled10 up every now and thenand can’t remember things.”
Hilary felt it well to stress this particular point. Dr. Rubec nodded sooth-ingly.
“Yes, yes, yes. But do not trouble yourself. All that will pass. Now we willhave a few association tests, so as to decide what type of mentality11 youare.” Hilary felt faintly nervous but all appeared to pass off well. The testseemed to be of a merely routine nature. Dr. Rubec made various entrieson a long form.
“It is a pleasure,” he said at last, “to deal with someone (if you will ex-cuse me, Madame, and not take amiss what I am going to say) to deal withsomeone who is not in any way a genius!”
Hilary laughed.
“Oh, I’m certainly not a genius,” she said.
“Fortunately for you,” said Dr. Rubec. “I can assure you your existencewill be far more tranquil12.” He sighed. “Here, as you probably understand,I deal mostly with keen intellects, but with the type of sensitive intellectthat is apt to become easily unbalanced, and where the emotional stress isstrong. The man of science, Madame, is not the cool, calm individual he ismade out to be in fiction. In fact,” said Dr. Rubec, thoughtfully, “between afirst-class tennis player, an operatic prima-donna and a nuclear physicistthere is really very little difference as far as emotional stability goes.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Hilary, remembering that she was sup-posed to have lived for some years in close proximity13 to scientists. “Yes,they are rather temperamental sometimes.”
Dr. Rubec threw up a pair of expressive14 hands.
“You would not believe,” he said, “the emotions that arise here! Thequarrels, the jealousies15, the touchiness16! We have to take steps to deal withall that. But you, Madame,” he smiled. “You are in a class that is in a smallminority here. A fortunate class, if I may so express myself.”
“I don’t quite understand you. What kind of a minority?”
“Wives,” said Dr. Rubec. “We have not many wives here. Very few arepermitted. One finds them, on the whole, refreshingly17 free from the brain-storms of their husbands and their husbands’ colleagues.”
“What do wives do here?” asked Hilary. She added apologetically, “Yousee it’s all so new to me. I don’t understand anything yet.”
“Naturally not. Naturally. That is bound to be the case. There are hob-bies, recreations, amusements, instructional courses. A wide field. Youwill find it, I hope, an agreeable life.”
“As you do?”
It was a question, and rather an audacious one, and Hilary wondered amoment or two later whether she had been wise to ask it. But Dr. Rubecmerely seemed amused.
“You are quite right, Madame,” he said. “I find life here peaceful and in-teresting in the extreme.”
“You don’t ever regret—Switzerland?”
“I am not homesick. No. That is partly because, in my case, my homeconditions were bad. I had a wife and several children. I was not cut out,Madame, to be a family man. Here conditions are infinitely18 more pleasant.
I have ample opportunity of studying certain aspects of the human mindwhich interest me and on which I am writing a book. I have no domesticcares, no distractions19, no interruptions. It all suits me admirably.”
“And where do I go next?” asked Hilary, as he rose and shook her cour-teously and formally by the hand.
“Mademoiselle La Roche will take you to the dress department. The res-ult, I am sure”—he bowed—“will be admirable.”
After the severe Robot-like females she had met so far, Hilary was agree-ably surprised by Mademoiselle La Roche. Mademoiselle La Roche hadbeen a vendeuse in one of the Paris houses of haute couture and her man-ner was thrillingly feminine.
“I am delighted, Madame, to make your acquaintance. I hope that I canbe of assistance to you. Since you have just arrived and since you are, nodoubt, tired, I would suggest that you select now just a few essentials. To-morrow and indeed during the course of next week, you can examinewhat we have in stock at your leisure. It is tiresome20, I always think, tohave to select things rapidly. It destroys all the pleasure of la toilette. So Iwould suggest, if you agree, just a set of underclothing, a dinner dress, andperhaps a tailleur.”
“How delightful21 it sounds,” said Hilary. “I cannot tell you how odd itfeels to own nothing but a toothbrush and a sponge.”
Mademoiselle La Roche laughed cheeringly. She took a few rapid meas-ures and led Hilary into a big department with built-in cupboards. Therewere clothes here of every description, made of good material and excel-lent cut and in a large variety of sizes. When Hilary had selected the essen-tials of la toilette, they passed on to the cosmetics22 department where Hil-ary made a selection of powders, creams and various other toilet accessor-ies. These were handed to one of the assistants, a native girl with a shiningdark face, dressed in spotless white, and she was instructed to see thatthey were delivered to Hilary’s apartment.
All these proceedings23 had seemed to Hilary more and more like adream.
“And we shall have the pleasure of seeing you again shortly, I hope,”
said Mademoiselle La Roche, gracefully24. “It will be a great pleasure, Ma-dame, to assist you to select from our models. Entre nous my work is some-times disappointing. These scientific ladies often take very little interest inla toilette. In fact, not half an hour ago I had a fellow traveller of yours.”
“Helga Needheim?”
“Ah yes, that was the name. She is, of course, a Boche, and the Boches arenot sympathetic to us. She is not actually bad-looking if she took a littlecare of her figure; if she chose a flattering line she could look very well.
But no! She has no interest in clothes. She is a doctor, I understand. A spe-cialist of some kind. Let us hope she takes more interest in her patientsthan she does in her toilette—Ah! that one, what man will look at hertwice?”
Miss Jennson, the thin, dark, spectacled girl who had met the party onarrival, now entered the fashion salon25.
“Have you finished here, Mrs. Betterton?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you,” said Hilary.
“Then perhaps you will come and see the Deputy Director.”
Hilary said au revoir to Mademoiselle La Roche and followed the earnestMiss Jennson.
“Who is the Deputy Director?” she asked.
“Doctor Nielson.”
Everybody, Hilary reflected, in this place was a doctor of something.
“Who exactly is Doctor Nielson?” she asked. “Medical, scientific, what?”
“Oh, he’s not medical, Mrs. Betterton. He’s in charge of Administration.
All complaints have to go to him. He’s the administrative26 head of the Unit.
He always has an interview with everyone when they arrive. After that Idon’t suppose you’ll ever see him again unless something very importantshould arise.”
“I see,” said Hilary, meekly27. She had an amused feeling of having beenput severely28 in her place.
Admission to Dr. Nielson was through two antechambers where steno-graphers were working. She and her guide were finally admitted into theinner sanctum where Dr. Nielson rose from behind a large executive’sdesk. He was a big, florid man with an urbane29 manner. Of transatlanticorigin, Hilary thought, though he had very little American accent.
“Ah!” he said, rising and coming forward to shake Hilary by the hand.
“This is—yes—let me see—yes, Mrs. Betterton. Delighted to welcome youhere, Mrs. Betterton. We hope you’ll be very happy with us. Sorry to hearof the unfortunate accident during the course of your journey, but I’mglad it was no worse. Yes, you were lucky there. Very lucky indeed. Well,your husband’s been awaiting you impatiently and I hope now you’ve gothere you will settle down and be very happy amongst us.”
“Thank you, Dr. Nielson.” Hilary sat down in the chair he drew forwardfor her.
“Any questions you want to ask me?” Dr. Nielson leant forward over hisdesk in an encouraging manner. Hilary laughed a little.
“That’s a most difficult thing to answer,” she said. “The real answer is, ofcourse, that I’ve got so many questions to ask that I don’t know where tobegin.”
“Quite, quite. I understand that. If you’ll take my advice—this is just ad-vice, you know, nothing more—I shouldn’t ask anything. Just adapt your-self and see what comes. That’s the best way, believe me.”
“I feel I know so little,” said Hilary. “It’s all so—so very unexpected.”
“Yes. Most people think that. The general idea seems to have been thatone was going to arrive in Moscow.” He laughed cheerfully. “Our deserthome is quite a surprise to most people.”
“It was certainly a surprise to me.”
“Well, we don’t tell people too much beforehand. They mightn’t be dis-creet, you know, and discretion’s rather important. But you’ll be comfort-able here, you’ll find. Anything you don’t like—or particularly would liketo have .?.?. just put in a request for it and we’ll see what can be managed!
Any artistic30 requirement, for instance. Painting, sculpture, music, we havea department for all that sort of thing.”
“I’m afraid I’m not talented that way.”
“Well, there’s plenty of social life too, of a kind. Games, you know. Wehave tennis courts, squash courts. It takes a week or two, we often find, forpeople to find their feet, especially the wives, if I may say so. Your hus-band’s got his job and he’s busy with it and it takes a little time, some-times, for the wives to find—well—other wives who are congenial. All thatsort of thing. You understand me.”
“But does one—does one—stay here?”
“Stay here? I don’t quite understand you, Mrs. Betterton.”
“I mean, does one stay here or go on somewhere else?”
Dr. Nielson became rather vague.
“Ah,” he said. “That depends on your husband. Ah, yes, yes, that de-pends very much on him. There are possibilities. Various possibilities. Butit’s better not to go into all that just now. I’d suggest, you know, that you—well—come and see me again perhaps in three weeks’ time. Tell me howyou’ve settled down. All that kind of thing.”
“Does one—go out at all?”
“Go out, Mrs. Betterton?”
“I mean outside the walls. The gates.”
“A very natural question,” said Dr. Nielson. His manner was now ratherheavily beneficent. “Yes, very natural. Most people ask it when they comehere. But the point of our Unit is that it’s a world in itself. There is nothing,if I may so express myself, to go out to. Outside us there is only desert.
Now I’m not blaming you, Mrs. Betterton. Most people feel like that whenthey first get here. Slight claustrophobia. That’s how Dr. Rubec puts it. ButI assure you that it passes off. It’s a hangover, if I may so express it, fromthe world you have left. Have you ever observed an anthill, Mrs. Better-ton? An interesting sight. Very interesting and very instructive. Hundredsof little black insects hurrying to and fro, so earnest, so eager, so purpose-ful. And yet the whole thing’s such a muddle9. That’s the bad old world youhave left. Here there is leisure, purpose, infinite time. I assure you,” hesmiled, “an earthly paradise.”
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1
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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idiomatic
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| adj.成语的，符合语言习惯的 | |
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stilted
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| adj.虚饰的；夸张的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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concussion
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| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
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muddle
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| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
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muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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jealousies
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| n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 )；妒羡 | |
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touchiness
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| n.易动气，过分敏感 | |
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refreshingly
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| adv.清爽地，有精神地 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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distractions
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| n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 )；娱乐，消遣；心烦意乱；精神错乱 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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cosmetics
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| n.化妆品 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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administrative
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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urbane
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| adj.温文尔雅的，懂礼的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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