Brave New World
by
Aldous Leonard Huxley (1894-1963)
Chapter One
A SQUAT grey building of only thirty-four stories. Over the main entrance the words,
CENTRAL LONDON HATCHERY AND CONDITIONING CENTRE, and, in a shield, the World
State's motto, COMMUNITY, IDENTITY, STABILITY.
The enormous room on the ground floor faced towards the north. Cold for all the
summer beyond the panes, for all the tropical heat of the room itself, a harsh thin
light glared through the windows, hungrily seeking some draped lay figure, some
pallid shape of academic goose-flesh, but finding only the glass and nickel and
bleakly shining porcelain of a laboratory. Wintriness responded to wintriness. The
overalls of the workers were white, their hands gloved with a pale corpse-coloured
rubber. The light was frozen, dead, a ghost. Only from the yellow barrels of the
microscopes did it borrow a certain rich and living substance, lying along the
polished tubes like butter, streak after luscious streak in long recession down the
work tables.
"And this," said the Director opening the door, "is the Fertilizing Room."
Bent over their instruments, three hundred Fertilizers were plunged, as the Director
of Hatcheries and Conditioning entered the room, in the scarcely breathing silence,
the absent-minded, soliloquizing hum or whistle, of absorbed concentration. A troop
of newly arrived students, very young, pink and callow, followed nervously, rather
abjectly, at the Director's heels. Each of them carried a notebook, in which, whenever
the great man spoke, he desperately scribbled. Straight from the horse's mouth. It
was a rare privilege. The D. H. C. fo
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