Level 7

by Mordecai Roshwald

  I asked her whether, on the other hand, there was not a part of his mind which did want to be cured: if pushing the buttons was associated with sensations of pleasure, would he not want to be capable of indulging in it? “You forget,” she answered with a smile of superior wisdom, “that the repressive controls wouldn’t allow it. Only under the disguise of paralysis can he have his gratification.”

  As if this were not enough, there appeared to be further complications. On the level of his conscious mind, X-117 resents pushing the buttons not only because it would cause general destruction but also because it would be a crime against his mother in particular. “If it were against his father,” P-867 argued, “this would be a more straightforward case of Oedipus complex. But by substituting his mother for his father he complicates the issue and creates a more profound conflict, for he’s very strongly attached to his mother—abnormally so, by the standards of Level 7 psychology. This is what makes him refuse so stubbornly to do anything against her. His reluctance wouldn’t be nearly so great if he imagined he was going to destroy his father.”

  I must say I got pretty muddled by all this. Now I do not know whether X-117 is suffering from paralysis because he enjoys it, or because he does not want to push the buttons, or because he believes in God and thinks there is a divine edict against button-pushing, or because he has mixed up his parents. Probably I have mixed-up P-867’s explanations just as badly.

  I do not really care what is the true reason for his paralysis. What affects me is the fact that he is strongly attached (to a degree considered abnormal in this abnormal place) to another human being. The idea fascinates me. To care that much must be a wonderful sensation. When I first heard about X-117’s paralysis I felt glad it was his hand and not mine. Now I envy him his abnormality.

  APRIL 15

  Our resident philosopher, Ph-107, held forth in the lounge again today. His subject was ‘Freedom on Level 7’.

  This time his audience was less attentive, and one or two people broke away to talk quietly among themselves in a corner. The rest listened with half an ear. Perhaps they could not think of anything better to do.

  Ph-107 was saying that on Level 7 we enjoyed not only perfect democracy but also absolute freedom. When we were not on duty we could do whatever we liked. Most important, we could discuss quite freely the arrangements on Level 7. There was no secrecy, everything having been planned for the good of all and nothing needing to be hidden from our understanding.

  “It is this, really, which gives our life down here the perfection which it could not achieve up above,” he said. “Back there precautions had to be taken against subversion, against enemy spies, against misunderstanding. All that meant curtailing the freedom of the individual for the benefit of society. Here, on Level 7, there are no such dangers. We are hermetically cut off from enemy and ally alike, from spies and from over-inquisitive friends, from strangers and from the ignorant masses. Here everybody is known and everybody is knowing. Everybody can enjoy the individuality which his personal number symbolises. Nobody has contact with the spiritually inferior, though materially superior, outer world—indeed, it is because we are materially cut off from the world that we are able to develop the spiritual side of our natures to this extent. This is true freedom, a freedom which only Level 7 can give.”

  He went on in this style, trying to show that liberty could not be misused here, for people chosen to live on Level 7 were reasonable, had little individual power (being dependent on all their fellows), and so on and so forth.

  I had some questions I felt like asking—notably, whether a man condemned to solitary confinement but allowed to hammer his head against the wall of his cell could be called free—but I decided to say nothing. What was the use? Let him hammer his speech against us and imagine that he is free. If he believes in what he says, that is.

  I was too bored to listen to his speech right to the end, and left the lounge before our time was up. I thought I would rather lie down here on my bunk and listen to some music.

  APRIL 16

  Today a sensational announcement, addressed to all the crew of Level 7, was repeated several times over the general loudspeaker system. As nearly as I can remember it, the wording was as follows:

  “Attention, please, attention everybody! This message is for all members of the crew of Level 7. It is announced that arrangements have been made for marriages on Level 7. If you want to get married, and if the person you wish to marry accepts your proposal, all you have to do is press one of the red buttons, identify yourself, and say: “I intend to marry So-and-so’. You will subsequently be told, through your private loudspeaker, where and when the marriage will take place.

  “If you would like to marry somebody but do not feel, for any reason, like proposing directly, or if you have no opportunity to do so, you may make use of the marriage mediation service. You simply have to press the red button, identify yourself, and say: ‘I should like to marry So-and-so. Please mediate.’ Your proposal will be transmitted to the appropriate person, and you will receive his or her answer by private loudspeaker.

  “You may send either sort of message at any time around the clock, for it will be automatically tape-recorded before being transferred to the appropriate section. Thank you.”

  This repeated announcement was followed up this evening by a short ‘special’ talk in the ‘Know Thy Level’ series. The speaker explained the great significance of marriage as a social institution from time immemorial. Then came a eulogy on the psychological benefits enjoyed by married couples. Finally—and this was the climax of her argument for marriage—she reminded us of our duty (our ‘obligation to humanity’, she called it) to carry on the existence of the human race in the safe living-conditions of Level 7.

  While these stirring thoughts were sinking in she added a few practical details. The number of men on Level 7 was exactly the same as the number of women—250 of each; everybody therefore stood a fair chance of finding a partner. Marriages had been taken into consideration when Level 7 was planned. All the men and women were very healthy and stood the best possible chance of having healthy offspring. Moreover, as their ages were all between twenty and thirty, their children would reach adulthood in time to take over the running of Level 7.

  “Necessarily, it will not be possible for married couples to have their own living-quarters,” the speaker went on. “The lack of space, as well as the performance of duties, requires the continuation of the present system of living-rooms attached to working-rooms. However, special rooms for married couples have been provided, and will be allotted to each couple for a certain period each day. There are ten such rooms, which means that if everybody is married there will be approximately one hour of privacy for each couple every day.”

  The speaker ended by wishing all prospective couples good luck. “Don’t be shy,” she said. “Choose your mate and push the nearest red button.”

  APRIL 18

  The announcement about marriage facilities has created quite a stir on Level 7. At meals, when about a third of the crew meets at one time along the long table (we eat in three shifts), people do not take the nearest place on the bench as they used to, but wander around trying to find an attractive partner of the opposite sex. This results in some disorder, but ‘promotes the interests of humanity’.

  Nobody seems to be in love, as far as I can tell: probably we are incapable of feeling a strong social emotion like that, with the exception of X-117 and perhaps some other people who have come here by mistake. But at least things are a bit livelier than they were. Somebody who did not know what it was all about might think we had just enjoyed a glass of brandy. If this keeps up, it will not be long before the 500 bachelors and spinsters on Level 7 have become 250 married couples.

  This evening I discussed the marriage business with X-107. He thought it all quite reasonable. I asked where space could be found for the new generations to live. He replied that if ten rooms had been set aside in advance for the convenience
of married couples, space for children must have been thought of as well. This argument seemed sound enough to me.

  “Of course,” he added, “they must have fixed on an optimum number of people for Level 7, and if too many children are born then birth control will have to be introduced. But this problem isn’t likely to arise for two or three years.”

  APRIL 19

  Today the loudspeaker announced the engagement of TN-237 to AS-167, one of the air-supply officers. ‘TN’ stands for Teacher and Nurse—a new designation, somebody told me: previously she was known as R-237, ‘R’ meaning Reserve. This reserve of officers will eventually fill a variety of posts.

  I do not know AS-167, but when his fiancée was pointed out to me at lunch today I recognised her as one of the women who regularly eat on my meal shift. She was congratulated by everybody sitting near her, myself included. She is a girl of about twenty, she looks nice, and today—though I would not say she was as radiant as a young bride could be—she certainly seemed more satisfied that the people around her.

  The marriage ceremony, being the first one on Level 7, was broadcast over the general loudspeaker system. It was scheduled for ‘7 p.m.’. Perhaps this time was chosen—and announced thus, instead of in the more usual form of 19.00 hours—to make a symbolic link between the ceremony and Level 7.

  I was taking a shower when 7 p.m. came round, but the noise of the water did not prevent my hearing the loudspeaker in the bathroom. Sharp at the appointed hour, it announced: “Attention, please, attention! Here is an event which makes history: the first marriage on Level 7. Everybody on Level 7 is privileged to share in this historic experience.”

  This announcement struck me as unusually pompous; in the normal way the loudspeaker’s tone is laconic and dry. What followed, however, was as simple a marriage ceremony as could be imagined.

  A woman’s voice sounded: “Do you, AS-167, want to marry TN-237 and to maintain this status as long as it is mutually agreeable?”

  A man’s voice replied: “Yes, I do.”

  Then the mistress-of-ceremonies asked TN-237 a similar question, and on getting the same answer announced: “AS-167 and TN-237 are now a married couple. The names of both will from now on carry the suffix small ‘m’. Congratulations!”

  The whole business could not have lasted a minute, and I was still towelling myself in the bathroom when the loudspeaker announced that the ceremony was over, and for some reason congratulated TN-237m and AS-167m again—stressing the ‘m’. Perhaps these extra congratulations were due to their being the first couple to marry on Level 7. I believe the loudspeaker did mention the fact.

  I put on some clothes, switched on the classical music tape and lay down on my bed. The concluding chords of Chopin’s ‘Funeral March’ died away in the small room.

  ‘Well,’ I thought, ‘if I had been the planner of Level 7 I would have arranged for Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” or some other suitable tune to be played at that juncture. If most marriages were to be performed at 7 p.m., this could easily have been co-ordinated with the twelve-day tape.

  ‘So the arrangements on Level 7 are not perfect, after all!’ flashed through my mind, and the notion rather pleased me.

  APRIL 20

  At lunch today TN-237m—the additional symbol was attached to her identity badge—told us some details about the marriage ceremony.

  It was performed (to the visible disappointment of some of the people, mostly women, who were listening to her) in the little room where we take our laundry, a tiny closet like place about five feet square. Only she and AS-167 were present, but evidently they must have been on the screen of the mistress-of-ceremonies, for they were told over a loudspeaker not to face each other, as they initially did, but to face the wall opposite the door. Presumably this enabled the loudspeaker-lady to see them better.

  Then they were asked the questions and gave the answers which we all heard over the general loudspeaker system, and as the mistress-of-ceremonies was congratulating them two little letters ‘m’ rattled down the chute which returns the bundles of clean laundry. On the back each read: “Fix this to your identity badge.” (TN-237m turned hers round, and we all read the instruction on the back.)

  “And that was all,” she concluded, looking as disappointed as any of us.

  Somebody murmured that this all sounded very interesting, but he said it in such a way that it was clear he did not believe his own words. Then someone else remarked that the marriage ceremony was only a symbol: the essence of marriage, he said, lay in its essence.

  Nobody contradicted this statement and the topic was dropped as the band on the table started moving and our meal glided to a stop before us. We ate without saying much until, just as we were on the point of concluding our lunch with three pills and a drink, somebody had the good or the bad idea of taking one of the pills between his thumb and forefinger and lifting it the way a glass of wine is lifted for a toast. “To TN-237m,” he proposed, bowing slightly to her, “and may she enjoy many happy years with AS-167m.”

  “TN-237m,” we all mumbled, solemnly raising our pills before popping them into our mouths; and she, deciding that our gesture was well-meaning, looked a little bashful and replied: “Thank you.”

  APRIL 21

  A few more marriage announcements were made today. One of the wastage officers, W-297, has married a female administrator, Ad-327. R-287, male, has married a loud-speaker officer, L-267. M-227, a medical doctor, is now the wife of one of the screen-watchers, Sc-167.

  Today in the lounge I tried to chat with the nurse I met on my first visit to that room, N-527. I have had little chance to speak to her since that occasion, because E-647, the electrical engineer, has always been around her, while P-867 is always around me. Today, by a happy coincidence, E-647 was missing as well as P-867, who has not shown up in the lounge for the last three days.

  N-527 is rather nice. If I marry down here at all, I should like to marry her.

  I asked her how her job differed from that of TN-237m, Level 7’s first bride. She said that she was trained to nurse adults, while ‘TN’ indicated a person qualified as kindergarten teacher and nurse for babies and young children.

  Then I asked her if she was kept busy. She said no, for there were very few accidents down here, and hardly any sickness so far. I suggested that this might make her life boring. She replied that she spent a lot of time listening to music—to the light tape, not the classical.

  Wouldn’t marriage be an additional distraction? I suggested. She answered that she did not feel a need for any additional distraction. “Still, I may marry,” she said. “E-647 proposed to me yesterday, and I promised to give him an answer today, but he hasn’t come.” She looked around the room with a slight air of disappointment.

  I did not ask her what her answer would be, but changed the subject. Though I liked her calm, hardly sensitive nature, I did not feel too cut up about the prospect of her marrying E-647. Apparently he cared for her more than I did.

  Perhaps E-647 is less unsociable than I.

  APRIL 22

  P-867 reappeared in the lounge today. She was in even better spirits than usual, and came straight up to me. “What do you think about the marriages?” she said. “Aren’t they wonderful?”

  I made some cynical remark to the effect that marriage was an affliction as old as humanity itself. She laughed it off and said: “Oh, I know you don’t mean that! You’re only talking like that in an attempt to hide your real feelings.” At this she giggled in her typical way.

  I did not argue the point, but asked her where she had been the last few days.

  “You missed me, didn’t you?” she said with satisfaction. “Well,” she went on more briskly, “I’ve been busy with your colleague X-117. It’s a difficult case. Marriage might help him, though, and I’m sorry the facilities weren’t announced earlier. You know, he’s too sociable for Level 7, but if he’d been able to marry before the hysterical symptoms appeared, it might have provided a harmle
ss outlet for his sociable impulses. It’s not so easy now.” Then she glanced up at me and gave what I took to be a winning smile. “Still, don’t let’s waste our half hour talking about X-117. I’ve had enough of him recently.”

  I wanted to hear more about my fellow-officer, but I did not ask her to go on. She had a right to rest, after all. I remained silent, not knowing quite what to say. P-867, however, needs very little co-operation in conversation. She eagerly went on talking.

  “You know,” she said, “I’ve had two proposals of marriage through the mediation service. Two shy officers,” she giggled, “want to marry me!”

  I congratulated her on her success, but this did not seem to satisfy her. “Aren’t you jealous?” she asked, “Or are you so sure of your charms that you know I shall refuse my two shy officers? Oh, you naughty X-127!” She gave me an arch look, fluttering her eye-lashes in a coquettish manner.

  I failed to see why I was naughty, I was not in the least jealous, and I did not care a damn whom she married, or whether she married at all. But I made some silly remark about how sure I was she would refuse her shy suitors, whoever they were. This seemed to confirm my naughtiness, in her eyes; which meant my interest in her.

  Our half hour in the lounge was up at this point, and on parting from P-867 I felt some relief.

  APRIL 24

  I am playing cat and mouse with P-867. She, of course, is the cat.

  She wants to marry me. I do not want to marry at all, and if I had felt like marrying at any time I would have chosen N-527. But I have missed my chance there, I admit. Her marriage to E-647 was announced yesterday.