О дивный новый мир

           TheD.H.C.lookedathimnervously.TherewerethosestrangerumoursofoldforbiddenbookshiddeninasafeintheController’sstudy.Bibles,poetry–Fordknewwhat.

           MustaphaMondinterceptedhisanxiousglanceandthecornersofhisredlipstwitchedironically.

           "It’sallright,Director,"hesaidinatoneoffaintderision,"Iwon’tcorruptthem."

           TheD.H.C.wasoverwhelmedwithconfusion.

           Thosewhofeelthemselvesdespiseddowelltolookdespising.ThesmileonBernardMarx’sfacewascontemptuous.Everyhaironthebearindeed!

           "Ishallmakeapointofgoing,"saidHenryFoster.

           MustaphaMondleanedforward,shookafingeratthem."Justtrytorealizeit,"hesaid,andhisvoicesentastrangethrillquiveringalongtheirdiaphragms."Trytorealizewhatitwasliketohaveaviviparousmother."

           Thatsmuttywordagain.Butnoneofthemdreamed,thistime,ofsmiling.

           "Trytoimaginewhat’livingwithone’sfamily’meant."

           Theytried;butobviouslywithoutthesmallestsuccess.

           "Anddoyouknowwhata’home’was?"

           Theyshooktheirheads.

           FromherdimcrimsoncellarLeninaCrowneshotupseventeenstories,turnedtotherightasshesteppedoutofthelift,walkeddownalongcorridorand,openingthedoormarkedGIRLS’DRESSING-ROOM,plungedintoadeafeningchaosofarmsandbosomsandunderclothing.Torrentsofhotwaterweresplashingintoorgurglingoutofahundredbaths.