Jerking his thumb towards the Savage, "He's curious, you know," Bernard added.
"Quaint."
Miss Keate smiled (and her smile was really charming, he thought); said Thank you; would be delighted to come to one of his parties.
The Provost opened a door.
Five minutes in that Alpha Double Plus classroom left John a trifle bewildered.
"What is elementary relativity?" he whispered to Bernard.
Bernard tried to explain, then thought better of it and suggested that they should go to some other classroom.
From behind a door in the corridor leading to the Beta-Minus geography room, a ringing soprano voice called,
"One, two, three, four," and then, with a weary impatience, "As you were."
"Malthusian Drill," explained the Head Mistress.
"Most of our girls are freemartins, of course.
I'm a freemartin myself." She smiled at Bernard.
"But we have about eight hundred unsterilized ones who need constant drilling."
In the Beta-Minus geography room John learnt that "a savage reservation is a place which, owing to unfavourable climatic or geological conditions, or poverty of natural resources, has not been worth the expense of civilizing."
A click; the room was darkened; and suddenly, on the screen above the Master's head, there were the Penitentes of Acoma prostrating themselves before Our Lady, and wailing as John had heard them wail, confessing their sins before Jesus on the Cross, before the eagle image of Pookong.
The young Etonians fairly shouted with laughter.
Still wailing, the Penitentes rose to their feet, stripped off their upper garments and, with knotted whips, began to beat themselves, blow after blow.
Redoubled, the laughter drowned even the amplified record of their groans.
"But why do they laugh?" asked the Savage in a pained bewilderment.
"Why?"
The Provost turned towards him a still broadly grinning face.
"Why? But because it's so extraordinarily funny."
In the cinematographic twilight, Bernard risked a gesture which, in the past, even total darkness would hardly have emboldened him to make.
Strong in his new importance, he put his arm around the Head Mistress's waist.
It yielded, willowily.
He was just about to snatch a kiss or two and perhaps a gentle pinch, when the shutters clicked open again.
"Perhaps we had better go on," said Miss Keate, and moved towards the door.
"And this," said the Provost a moment later, "is Hypnopaedic Control Room."
Hundreds of synthetic music boxes, one for each dormitory, stood ranged in shelves round three sides of the room; pigeon-holed on the fourth were the paper sound-track rolls on which the various hypnopaedic lessons were printed.
"You slip the roll in here," explained Bernard, interrupting Dr. Gaffney, "press down this switch ..."
"No, that one," corrected the Provost, annoyed.
"That one, then.
The roll unwinds. The selenium cells transform the light impulses into sound waves, and ..."
"And there you are," Dr. Gaffney concluded.
"Do they read Shakespeare?" asked the Savage as they walked, on their way to the Bio-chemical Laboratories, past the School Library.
"Certainly not," said the Head Mistress, blushing.
"Our library," said Dr. Gaffney, "contains only books of reference.
If our young people need distraction, they can get it at the feelies.
We don't encourage them to indulge in any solitary amusements."
Five bus-loads of boys and girls, singing or in a silent embracement, rolled past them over the vitrified highway.
"Just returned," explained Dr. Gaffney, while Bernard, whispering, made an appointment with the Head Mistress for that very evening, "from the Slough Crematorium.
Death conditioning begins at eighteen months.
Every tot spends two mornings a week in a Hospital for the Dying.
All the best toys are kept there, and they get chocolate cream on death days.
They learn to take dying as a matter of course."
"Like any other physiological process," put in the Head Mistress professionally.
Eight o'clock at the Savoy. It was all arranged.
On their way back to London they stopped at the Television Corporation's factory at Brentford.
"Do you mind waiting here a moment while I go and telephone?" asked Bernard.
The Savage waited and watched.