The morning is quiet as the sun peeks through a flat, gray sky. Carefully trimmed greenery is the only sign of life around a statue of the great Henry Ford. The streets are meticulously clean- free of garbage and those dirty, dumb Epsilons too.
Our city is stunning, with its magnificent glass hatcheries and conditioning centers, yet so empty. Oh wait- but everyone must be partaking in the morning’s solidarity service.
A girl in a piece of artwork resembling Lenina glances up as if she’s greeting Mustapha Mond himself. Boy do I wish I was as tall as the other Alphas. The shops and stores and surface tennis courts are all flawless, but when I look in the mirror I still occasionally wonder what’s happening behind closed doors.
Could there be more to this life than luxury and glamor and soma? I hope to visit the Reservation soon- it’s fascinating to think about living a backwards life filled with physical pain and emotional suffering.