“It’s incredible,” thought Hilary to herself, “incredible that I’ve been hereten days!” The frightening thing in life, Hilary thought, was how easily youadapted yourself. She remembered once being shown in France some pe-culiar torture arrangement of the Middle Ages, an iron cage wherein aprisoner had been confined and in which he could neither lie, stand norsit. The guide had recounted how the last man imprisoned1 there had livedin it for eighteen years, and had been released and had lived for anothertwenty after that, before dying, an old man. That adaptability2, thought Hil-ary, was what differentiated3 man from the animal world. Man could livein any climate and on any food and under any conditions. He could existslave or free.
She had felt first, when introduced into the Unit, a blinding panic, a hor-rible feeling of imprisonment4 and frustration5, and the fact that the impris-onment was camouflaged6 in circumstances of luxury had somehow madeit seem all the more horrible to her. And yet now, already, even after aweek here, she had begun insensibly to accept the conditions of her life asnatural. It was a queer, dream-like existence. Nothing seemed particularlyreal, but already she had the feeling that the dream had gone on a longtime and would go on for a long time more. It would, perhaps, last forever.?.?. She would always live here in the Unit; this was life, and there wasnothing outside.
This dangerous acceptance, she thought, came partly from the fact thatshe was a woman. Women were adaptable7 by nature. It was their strengthand their weakness. They examined their environment, accepted it, andlike realists settled down to make the best of it. What interested her mostwere the reactions of the people who had arrived here with her. HelgaNeedheim she hardly ever saw except sometimes at meals. When theymet, the German woman vouchsafed8 her a curt9 nod, but no more. As faras she could judge, Helga Needheim was happy and satisfied. The Unit ob-viously lived up to the picture she had formed in her mind of it. She wasthe type of woman absorbed by her work, and was comfortably sustainedby her natural arrogance10. The superiority of herself and her fellow-scient-ists was the first article of Helga’s creed11. She had no views of a brother-hood of man, of an era of peace, of liberty of mind and spirit. For her thefuture was narrow but all-conquering. The super race, herself a memberof it; the rest of the world in bondage12, treated, if they behaved, with con-descending kindness. If her fellow workers expressed different views, iftheir ideas were Communist rather than Fascist13, Helga took little notice. Iftheir work was good they were necessary, and their ideas would change.
Dr. Barron was more intelligent than Helga Needheim. Occasionally Hil-ary had brief conversations with him. He was absorbed in his work,deeply satisfied with the conditions provided for him, but his inquiringGallic intellect led him to speculate and ponder on the media in which hefound himself.
“It was not what I expected. No, frankly14,” he said one day, “entre nous,Mrs. Betterton, I do not care for prison conditions. And these are prisonconditions, though the cage, let us say, is heavily gilded15.”
“There is hardly the freedom here that you came to seek?” Hilary sug-gested.
He smiled at her, a quick, rueful smile.
“But no,” he said, “you are wrong. I did not really seek liberty. I am acivilized man. The civilized16 man knows there is no such thing. Only theyounger and cruder nations put the word ‘Liberty’ on their banner. Theremust always be a planned framework of security. And the essence of civil-ization is that the way of life should be a moderate one. The middle way.
Always one comes back to the middle way. No. I will be frank with you. Icame here for money.”
Hilary in her turn smiled. Her eyebrows17 rose.
“And what good is money to you here?”
“It pays for very expensive laboratory equipment,” said Dr. Barron. “Iam not obliged to put my hand into my own pocket, and so I can serve thecause of science and satisfy my own intellectual curiosity. I am a man wholoves his work, true, but I do not love it for the sake of humanity. I haveusually found that those who do so are somewhat woolly headed, and of-ten incompetent18 workers. No, it is the pure intellectual joy of research thatI appreciate. For the rest, a large sum of money was paid to me before Ileft France. It is safely banked under another name and in due course,when all this comes to an end, I shall have it to spend as I choose.”
“When all this comes to an end?” Hilary repeated. “But why should itcome to an end?”
“One must have the common sense,” said Dr. Barron, “nothing is per-manent, nothing endures. I have come to the conclusion that this place isrun by a madman. A madman, let me tell you, can be very logical. If youare rich and logical and also mad, you can succeed for a very long time inliving out your illusion. But in the end”—he shrugged19—“in the end thiswill break up. Because, you see, it is not reasonable, what happens here!
That which is not reasonable must always pay the reckoning in the end. Inthe meantime”— again he shrugged his shoulders —“it suits me admir-ably.”
Torquil Ericsson, whom Hilary had expected to be violently disillu-sioned, appeared to be quite content in the atmosphere of the Unit. Lesspractical than the Frenchman, he existed in a single-minded vision of hisown. The world in which he lived was one so unfamiliar20 to Hilary that shecould not even understand it. It engendered21 a kind of austere22 happiness,an absorption in mathematical calculations, and an endless vista23 of pos-sibilities. The strange, impersonal24 ruthlessness of his character frightenedHilary. He was the kind of young man, she thought, who in a moment ofidealism could send three-quarters of the world to their death in orderthat the remaining quarter should participate in an impractical25 Utopiathat existed only in Ericsson’s mind.
With the American, Andy Peters, Hilary felt herself far more in accord.
Possibly, she thought, it was because Peters was a man of talent but not agenius. From what others said, she gathered he was a first-class man at hisjob, a careful and skilled chemist, but not a pioneer. Peters, like herself,had at once hated and feared the atmosphere of the Unit.
“The truth is that I didn’t know where I was going,” he said. “I thought Iknew, but I was wrong. The Party has got nothing to do with this place.
We’re not in touch with Moscow. This is a lone26 show of some kind—a Fas-cist show possibly.”
“Don’t you think,” said Hilary, “that you go in too much for labels?” Heconsidered this.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Come to think of it, these words wethrow around don’t mean much. But I do know this. I want to get out ofhere and I mean to get out of here.”
“It won’t be easy,” said Hilary, in a low voice.
They were walking together after dinner near the splashing fountains ofthe roof garden. With the illusion of darkness and the starlit sky theymight have been in the private gardens of some sultan’s palace. The func-tional concrete buildings were veiled from the sight.
“No,” said Peters; “it won’t be easy, but nothing’s impossible.”
“I like to hear you say that,” said Hilary. “Oh, how I like to hear you saythat!”
He looked at her sympathetically.
“Been getting you down?” he asked.
“Very much so. But that’s not what I’m really afraid of.”
“No? What then?”
“I’m afraid of getting used to it,” said Hilary.
“Yes.” He spoke27 thoughtfully. “Yes, I know what you mean. There’s akind of mass suggestion going on here. I think perhaps you’re right aboutthat.”
“It would seem to me much more natural for people to rebel,” said Hil-ary.
“Yes. Yes, I’ve thought the same. In fact I’ve wondered once or twicewhether there’s not a little hocus-pocus going on.”
“Hocus-pocus? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, to put it frankly, dope.”
“Do you mean a drug of some kind?”
“Yes. It might be possible, you know. Something in the food or drink,something that induces—what shall I say—docility?”
“But is there such a drug?”
“Well, that’s not really my line of country. There are things that aregiven to people to soothe28 them down, to make them acquiescent29 before op-erations and that. Whether there is anything that can be administeredsteadily over a long period of time—and which at the same time does notimpair efficiency—that I don’t know. I’m more inclined to think now thatthe effect is produced mentally. I mean that I think some of these organ-izers and administrators30 here are well versed31 in hypnosis and psychologyand that, without our being aware of it, we are continually being offeredsuggestions of our well-being32, of our attaining33 our ultimate aim (whateverit is), and that all this does produce a definite effect. A lot can be done thatway, you know, if it’s done by people who know their stuff.”
“But we mustn’t acquiesce,” cried Hilary, hotly. “We mustn’t feel for onemoment that it’s a good thing to be here.”
“What does your husband feel?”
“Tom? I—oh, I don’t know. It’s so difficult. I—” she lapsed34 into silence.
The whole fantasy of her life as she lived it she could hardly communic-ate to the man who was listening to her. For ten days now she had lived inan apartment with a man who was a stranger to her. They shared a bed-room and when she lay awake at night she could hear him breathing inthe other bed. Both of them accepted the arrangement as inevitable35. Shewas an impostor, a spy, ready to play any part and assume any personal-ity. Tom Betterton she quite frankly did not understand. He seemed to hera terrible example of what could happen to a brilliant young man whohad lived for some months in the enervating36 atmosphere of the Unit. Atany rate there was in him no calm acceptance of his destiny. Far from tak-ing pleasure in his work, he was, she thought, increasingly worried by hisinability to concentrate on it. Once or twice he had reiterated37 what he hadsaid on that first evening.
“I can’t think. It’s just as though everything in me has dried up.”
Yes, she thought. Tom Betterton, being a real genius, needed libertymore than most. Suggestion had failed to compensate38 him for the loss offreedom. Only in perfect liberty was he able to produce creative work.
He was a man, she thought, very close to a serious nervous breakdown39.
Hilary herself he treated with curious inattention. She was not a womanto him, not even a friend. She even doubted whether he realized andsuffered from the death of his wife. The thing that preoccupied40 him incess-antly was the problem of confinement41. Again and again he had said:
“I must get away from here. I must, I must.” And sometimes, “I didn’tknow. I’d no idea what it was going to be like. How am I going to get out ofhere? How? I’ve got to. I’ve simply got to.”
It was in essence very much what Peters had said. But it was said with agreat deal of difference. Peters had spoken as a young, energetic, angry,disillusioned man, sure of himself and determined42 to pit his wits againstthe brains of the establishment in which he found himself. But Tom Bet-terton’s rebellious43 utterances44 were those of a man at the end of his tether,a man almost crazed with the need for escape. But perhaps, Hilarythought suddenly, that was where she and Peters would be in six months’
time. Perhaps what began as healthy rebellion and a reasonable confid-ence in one’s own ingenuity45 would turn at last into the frenzied46 despair ofa rat in a trap.
She wished she could talk of all this to the man beside her. If only shecould say: “Tom Betterton isn’t my husband. I know nothing about him. Idon’t know what he was like before he came here and so I’m in the dark. Ican’t help him, for I don’t know what to do or say.” As it was she had topick her words carefully. She said:
“Tom seems like a stranger to me now. He doesn’t — tell me things.
Sometimes I think the confinement, the sense of being penned up here, isdriving him mad.”
“It’s possible,” said Peters, drily; “it could act that way.”
“But tell me—you speak so confidently of getting away. How can we getaway—what earthly chance is there?”
“I don’t mean we can walk out the day after tomorrow, Olive. Thething’s got to be thought out and planned. People have escaped, you know,under the most unpromising conditions. A lot of our people, and a lot yourside of the Atlantic, too, have written books about escape from fortressesin Germany.”
“That was rather different.”
“Not in essence. Where there’s a way in there’s a way out. Of course tun-nelling is out of the question here, so that knocks out a good many meth-ods. But as I say, where there’s a way in, there’s a way out. With ingenuity,camouflage, playing a part, deception47, bribery48 and corruption49, one oughtto manage it. It’s the sort of thing you’ve got to study and think about. I’lltell you this. I shall get out of here. Take it from me.”
“I believe you will,” said Hilary, then she added, “but shall I?”
“Well, it’s different for you.”
His voice sounded embarrassed. For a moment she wondered what hemeant. Then she realized that presumably her own objective had been at-tained. She had come here to join the man she had loved, and havingjoined him her own personal need for escape should not be so great. Shewas almost tempted50 to tell Peters the truth—but some instinct of cautionforbade that.
She said good night and left the roof.
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1
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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adaptability
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| n.适应性 | |
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differentiated
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| 区分，区别，辨别( differentiate的过去式和过去分词 )； 区别对待； 表明…间的差别，构成…间差别的特征 | |
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imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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camouflaged
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| v.隐蔽( camouflage的过去式和过去分词 )；掩盖；伪装，掩饰 | |
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adaptable
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| adj.能适应的，适应性强的，可改编的 | |
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vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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fascist
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| adj.法西斯主义的；法西斯党的；n.法西斯主义者，法西斯分子 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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incompetent
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| adj.无能力的，不能胜任的 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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engendered
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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impractical
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| adj.不现实的，不实用的，不切实际的 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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acquiescent
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| adj.默许的，默认的 | |
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administrators
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| n.管理者( administrator的名词复数 )；有管理（或行政）才能的人；（由遗嘱检验法庭指定的）遗产管理人；奉派暂管主教教区的牧师 | |
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versed
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| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
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well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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attaining
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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enervating
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| v.使衰弱，使失去活力( enervate的现在分词 ) | |
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reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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compensate
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| vt.补偿，赔偿；酬报 vi.弥补；补偿；抵消 | |
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breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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47
deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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48
bribery
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| n.贿络行为，行贿，受贿 | |
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49
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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50
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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