“A whole collection of pornographic old books. “And I’ve got plenty more,” Mustapha Mond continued, resuming his seat. “Nor this.” He handed out another volume. “Nor this.” It was a small book and had lost its cover. “ The Holy Bible, containing the Old and New Testaments ,‘ he read aloud from the title-page. Rummaging in the darkness within, “It’s a subject,” he said, “that has always had a great interest for me.” He pulled out a thick black volume. The Controller, meanwhile, had crossed to the other side of the room and was unlocking a large safe set into the wall between the bookshelves. He would have liked to speak but there were no words. He would have liked to say something about solitude, about night, about the mesa lying pale under the moon, about the precipice, the plunge into shadowy darkness, about death. But I was forgetting you know all about God, I suppose.” “There used to be something called God-before the Nine Years’ War.

“Well, religion, of course,” replied the Controller. ART, SCIENCE-you seem to have paid a fairly high price for your happiness,” said the Savage, when they were alone.

Pneumatic in a brave new world