There, in a loud and cheerful company, they ate an excellent meal. Lenina took two half-gramme tablets and Henry three. At twenty past nine they walked across the street to the newly opened Westminster Abbey Cabaret. It was a night almost without clouds, moonless and starry; but of this on the whole depressing fact Lenina and Henry were fortunately unaware. The electric sky-signs effectively shut off the outer darkness. They entered. The air seemed hot and somehow breathless with the scent of ambergris and sandalwood. On the domed ceiling of the hall, the colour organ had momentarily painted a tropical sunset. Lenina and Henry were soon the four hundred and first. The saxophones wailed like melodious cats under the moon, moaned in the alto and tenor registers as though the little death were upon them.
Pre-University Paper, 2001
Mechanical device that creates "synthetic" music from the classic dystopian novel, Brave New World , by Aldous Huxley, It's also referred to as a "synthetic music box" and "synthetic music apparatus" and "synthetic music plant. One piece is described as " One of the government departments is the Bureau of Propaganda by Synthetic Voice and Music, which produces compositions for the machines. There is a disparaging mention of an "old-fashioned" hotel that has only "the most putrid synthetic music," suggesting that the machines have been in existence for some time, and have improved over that time.
7 Pages, Grade: 11 Points
THE menial staff of the Park Lane Hospital for the Dying consisted of one hundred and sixty-two Deltas divided into two Bokanovsky Groups of eighty-four red headed female and seventy-eight dark dolychocephalic male twins, respectively. At six, when their working day was over, the two Groups assembled in the vestibule of the Hospital and were served by the Deputy Sub-Bursar with their soma ration. From the lift the Savage stepped out into the midst of them. But his mind was elsewhere—with death, with his grief, and his remorse; mechanically, without consciousness of what he was doing, he began to shoulder his way through the crowd. High, low, from a multitude of separate throats, only two voices squeaked or growled. Their words and, in his ribs, the sharp nudging of elbows, broke through his unawareness. He woke once more to external reality, looked round him, knew what he saw—knew it, with a sinking sense of horror and disgust, for the recurrent delirium of his days and nights, the nightmare of swarming indistinguishable sameness. Twins, twins. Maggots again, but larger, full grown, they now crawled across his grief and his repentance.
At first you hear the sound of humming, a warped Gregorian chant, then dancers leap into a circle, dancing frantically round and round, while two large men whip a young, topless man, bowed over in the centre, the sinews of his back exposed, flinching yet defiant. The whips hit flesh in time with the beat of a drum. When the young man falls to the ground in pain the others lift him up in exaltation, celebrating as the drums and strings build to a climax.