Chapter 1

           Asquatgreybuildingofonlythirty-fourstories. Overthemainentrancethewords, CENTRALLONDONHATCHERYANDCONDITIONINGCENTRE, and,inashield,theWorldState’smotto, COMMUNITY,IDENTITY,STABILITY. 

           Theenormousroomonthegroundfloorfacedtowardsthenorth. Coldforallthesummerbeyondthepanes,forallthetropicalheatoftheroomitself, aharshthinlightglaredthroughthewindows,hungrilyseekingsomedrapedlayfigure, somepallidshapeofacademicgooseflesh, butfindingonlytheglassandnickelandbleaklyshiningporcelainofalaboratory. Wintrinessrespondedtowintriness. Theoverallsoftheworkerswerewhite,theirhandsglovedwithapalecorpse-colouredrubber. Thelightwasfrozen,dead,aghost. Onlyfromtheyellowbarrelsofthemicroscopesdiditborrowacertainrich andlivingsubstance,lyingalongthepolishedtubeslikebutter,streakafterlusciousstreakinlongrecessiondowntheworktables. 

           "Andthis,"saidtheDirectoropeningthedoor,"istheFertilizingRoom." 

           Bentovertheirinstruments,threehundredFertilizerswereplunged, astheDirectorofHatcheriesandConditioningenteredtheroom,inthescarcelybreathingsilence,theabsent-minded,soliloquizinghumorwhistle,ofabsorbedconcentration. Atroopofnewlyarrivedstudents,veryyoung,pinkandcallow,followednervously,ratherabjectly,attheDirector’sheels. Eachofthemcarriedanotebook,inwhich,wheneverthegreatmanspoke,hedesperatelyscribbled. Straightfromthehorse’smouth.Itwasarareprivilege.