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based on the Novel by B.F. Skinner

adapted to play format by Nexus, Mary Williams, and [exmember name removed]

Characters:

Speaking roles:

T. E. Frasier- The main character in the play, he is the moving force behind the establishment of Walden Two. Short beard, white suit, cheap straw hat far back on his head. Friendly, but with an intensely searching glance. He knew Burris in graduate school. He is carrying on an affair with a married woman, Mrs. Meyerson.

Burris- Professor of Psychology. Has a layer of dust on his former enthusiasm for his profession. Was in graduate school with T.E. Frasier. Throughout the play he exercises caution, and represents a middle point between Frasier's radical position, and Castle's reactionary position.

Augustine Castle- Professor of Philosophy. In his preoccupation with the mind, he has let himself put on too much weight. He has sharp eyes, and a badly trimmed black mustache. He converses extremely well, if somewhat legalistically. His diction is always precise. He accompanies the others on the trip to Walden Two for the intellectual adventure. He functions as the antithesis of Frasier.

Rogers- young guy, fresh back from serving in World War Two. Tall and fair, he has the pleasant, easy smile of the successful college graduate. One of Professor Burris' former students. Barbara Macklin is his fiancee. He has read Frasier's accounts of Walden Two, and comes to discuss utopian societies with Burris. Barbara's skepticism creates a struggle for him, because he is attracted to both Barbara and to the ideas of Walden Two.

Steve Jamnick- young guy,fresh back from serving in World War Two. Short and heavily built. Not a college man. Friend of Rogers. Mary Grove is his "girl".

Barbara Macklin- Tall, pretty, and sophisticated, she has an easy confidence which might almost be called boldness. She is uncomfortable at Walden Two.

Mary Grove- Short and not as well-groomed as Barbara Macklin. Described as being of average looks and intelligence.

Rachel Meyerson- in charge of Clothing for Women. Remarkably well-dressed, but in great simplicity of style. Dark hair drawn tightly against her head. Reminds one of a piece of modern sculpture done in shining dark wood. She's sexually involved with Frasier, even though she's married to the Manager of Health.

Mr. Meyerson- the Manager of Health and one of Walden Two's physicians.

Miss Eli- the Dentist at Walden Two.

Mrs. Nash- a Meta, she is a young woman in a white uniform.

Simmons- along with Frasier, one of the people instrumental in the establishment of Walden Two.

A boy who is one of Mrs. Meyerson's children.

Labor Assigner

Old woman who bakes pies and tends a flower garden.

Non-speaking roles:

6-8 Young People in colorful bathing suits who dive into the pond.

Angelic Children- shining clean in gay and well-fitted utilitarian clothes. There are no adults with them, but they are well-behaved. They speak quietly and move quickly along.

Choir

Opening:

Scene 1- Professor Burris' office.

Rogers: Hello. (pause) Rogers. Class of '41.

Burris: Rogers, Rogers. By all means. Glad to see you. Come in and sit down.

Rogers: Professor Burris, this is Steve Jamnick. We were together in the Phillipines, sir.

(Jamnick shakes hands shyly. Burris sits down in swivel chair behind desk and leans way back and listens.)

Rogers: (presses hands together and begins what sounds like a prepared speech) Jamnick and I have done a good deal of talking during the past two years, sir, about things in general. We were doing patrol work and it was pretty dull. So we talked a lot, and one day I got to telling him your idea about a sort of Utopian community. You see, sir, Jamnick and I are like a lot of other young people right now. We can't make up our minds. We don't know what we want to do. I was going into law, you remember.

(Burris nods. Burris is hit with vertigo and thoughts race through his mind.)

Rogers: But that's out now. I've talked it over with my father, and I don't want to do that. And I guess Jamnick never had any plans at all, did you, Steve?

Jamnick: I had a job in a shipping department before the war. You wouldn't call it "plans".

Rogers: What we don't see, sir, is why we have to take up where we left off. Why isn't this a good time to get a fresh start? From the very beginning. Why not get some people together and set up a social system somewhere that would really work? There are a lot of things about the way we're all living now that are completely insane-- as you used to say.

(Burris winces. Rogers does not notice.)

Rogers: Why can't we do something about it?

(an embarrassing silence)

Burris: (hurriedly) You fellows have done a good job up to now.

Rogers: It's a funny thing, sir, but in a way, fighting a war is easy. At least you know what you want and how to get it. But we don't even know how to begin to fight the mess we're in right now. Whom are we fighting? What kind of war is it? Do you see what I mean, sir?

Burris: I know what you mean..... A lot of people who feel that way go into politics.

Rogers: Yes, I know. But I remember what you said about that too.

(Burris draws a quick breath)

Rogers: I didn't understand you at the time. In fact, if you don't mind me saying it, I used to think you were kind of immoral-- in a civic sense, I mean. But I can see your point now, and so does Steve. Politics really wouldn't give us the chance we want. You see, we want to do something-- we want to find out what's the matter with people, why they can't live together without fighting all the time. We want to find out what people really want, what they really need in order to be happy, and how they can get it without stealing it from someone else. You can't do that in politics. You can't try something, first one way and then another, like an experiment. The politicians guess at all the answers and spend their time persuading people they're right-- but they must know they're only guessing, that they haven't really proved anything. Why don't we just start all over again the right way?

Burris: Some of us feel that we can eventually find the answer in teaching and research.

( Rogers continues in great difficulty, almost in anguish, as if he were being forced to accuse Burris of some egregious shortcoming.)

Rogers: (quickly) In reasearch, maybe. In teaching, no. It's all right to stir people up, get them interested. That's better than nothing. But in the long run, you're passing the buck-- if you see what I mean, sir. (stops in embarrassment)

Burris: For heaven's sake, don't appologise. You can't hurt me there. That's not my Achilles heel.

Rogers: What I mean is, you've got to do the job yourself if it's ever going to be done. Not just whip somebody else up to do it. Maybe in your research you are getting close to the answer. I wouldn't know.

Burris: I'm afraid the answer is still a long way off.

Rogers: Well, that's what I mean, sir. It's a job for research, but not the kind you do in a university, or in a laboratory anywhere. I mean you've got to experiment, and experiment with your own life! Not just sit back-- not just sit back in an ivory tower somewhere-- as if your own life weren't all mixed up in it. (stops again) Have you heard of a man named Frasier, sir?

(The swivel chair that Burris was leaning back in skids forward and Burris saves himself from falling with a quick, awkward gesture. Muffled laughter mingled with expressions of alarm are heard from Rogers and Jamnick.)

Burris: (Gropes for a phrase to regain composure. Finds none. Readjusts coat instead.) Did you say Frasier!

Rogers: Yes, sir, T.E. Frasier. He wrote an article for an old magazine that Steve-- Jamnick, here-- ran across in the PX. He was starting a community something like the one you used to talk about.

Burris: (distantly) So he really started it... (with great weight) Walden Two. (pause) I knew him, more than ten years ago. We were at graduate school together. That Frasier fancied himself a sort of second Thoreau.

Rogers: Well, we wrote to him, and here's his reply (handing Burris the letter. Burris reads. ) He says if we're really curious, we should come see the place. And he says since his community is always looking for converts, we can bring along anyone we like. They can accomodate a party of ten. I'm bringing my fiancee, Barbara Macklin, and Jamnick here is bringing his girl, Mary Grove. We came here today to ask if you'd like to come along too.

Burris: I am curious to see what Frasier has done with his community idea since I saw him last. And if you don't mind I'll bring along my intellectual sparring partner from the philosophy department. His name is Augustine Castle.

END OF SCENE 1

SCENE TWO- THE SIDE OF A RURAL ROAD

(The visitors hop off the bus, and the bus pulls away. Burris walks up and down the road, sees nobody.)

Burris: Hello?

(Frasier, lying in a hammock high in a tree, awakens and sits up)

Frasier: Hello! Be right down. (Climbs down. Shakes Burris' hand. Burris does introductions. Frasier greets each of them with a smile which succeeds in being friendly in spite of an intensely searching glance.)

Frasier: Just having a little nap. I thought you might make the earlier bus. Sorry I couldn't meet you in the city, but we can't spare our cars and trucks at this time of the year. We have much to see and much to talk about, and I suggest that we start slowly. What do you say to a leisurely start? Shall we walk down to the pond and then back for a cup of tea?

SCENE 3- THE SHEEP LAWN (Courtyard)

Sheep in a square pen made of four poles at the corners tied together with lengts of string carrying occasional bits of cloth like a kite-tail.

Frasier: We wanted an expanse of cropped grass in our front yard, but it's too close to the buildings for a regular sheep pasture. It's used a great deal by the children. In fact, we all use it as a sort of lawn. By the way (turning to Burris and Castle) do you remember Velben's analysis of the lawn in the Theory of the Leisure Class?

Castle: I do indeed. It was supposed to represent a bit of choice but conspicuously unconsumed pasture.

Frasier: That's right. Well this is our lawn, but we consume it. Indirectly, of course-- through our sheep. And the advantage is that it doesn't consume us. Have you ever pushed a lawn mower? The stupidest machine ever invented-- for one of the stupidest purposes. But I digress. We solved our problem with a portable electric fence which could be used to move our flock about the lawn like a gigantic mowing machine, but leaving most of it free at any time. At night the sheep are taken across the brook to the main fold. But we soon found out that the sheep kept to the enclosure and quite clear of the fence, which didn't need to be electrified. So we substituted a piece of string, which is easier to move around.

Barbara: What about the new lambs?

Frasier: They stray, but they cause no trouble and soon learn to keep with the flock. The curious thing is-- you will be interested in this, Burris-- the curious thing is that most of the sheep have never been shocked by the fence. Most of them were born after we took the wire away. It has become a tradition among our sheep never to approach string. The lambs acquire it from their elders, whose judgment they never question.

Castle: It's fortunate that sheep don't talk. One of them would be sure to ask, "Why" The Philosophical Lambkin.

Burris: And someday a Skeptical Lambkin would put his nose on the string and nothing would happen and the whole sheepfold would be shaken to its very foundations.

Castle: And after him, the stampede!

Frasier: (soberly) I should have told you that no small part of the force of tradition is due to the quiet creature you see yonder. (points to beautiful sheep dog watching from a respectful distance.) We call him the Bishop.

The group walks on in silence. Castle pretends to be troubled.

Castle: hestitantly Leaving us with the question of the relative merits of electricity and the wrath of God.

SCENE 4- THE POND

Frasier: Except for the hills on the other side of the river, all the land you see from here belongs to Walden Two. We aren't quite so affluent as that may sound, for we are bounded on three sides by wooded hills which cut off any distant view. We bought it all for taxes. There were seven or eight farms here, badly run-down, three of them abandoned. The road through the ravine goes on over the hill to a few surviving farms on the other side. It's a county road, but we keep it in repair by way of working out our county taxes. We built the other roads ourselves.

Above pond

Frasier: The pond is our own work. It covers some swamp land and stores a bit of water against a dry spell. As you see, we have a few ducks- more for the children than anything else- though we do get an occasional dinner from them.

Group walks down to small boat landing at the shore.

Frasier: One of our medical people took quite an interest in the pond. He has it nicely balanced, he tells me. At first the water was brown and slimy. You can see how clear it is now. picks up an oar from the small flat-bottomed boat moored at the landing, and with some effort, plunges it straight down. The full length is visible and shining white.

A group of six or eight young people who had been following the group at a distance arrive at the pond. They change into bathing suits in a thicket which seemed to have been especially trimmed for the purpose, and then run abreast to the landing and plunge in with a single splash, their brightly colored suits gleaming beneath the surface as they glide outward.

Frasier: There are truck gardens beyond the dam, where there's also a pine grove which was set out five years ago to screen the workshops from the living quarters, and a strip of birches which separates the truck gardens from the sheep pastures, and supplies some choice firewood. There's a large and fragrant bed of mint growing in the moist soil near the brook. A rustic fence of woven branches separates it from the sheepfold.

Castle: No mint for the lambs?

Frasier: dryly They are brought together under more favorable circumstances in the dining room.

SCENE 5- RAMMED EARTH (Modern Times)

Burris: What's that building material? Concrete?

Frasier: We used the old farm buildings as living quarters until we could put up the original unit you see on our left. Some of them were too valuable to tear down. There's a nice old stone house near the river, which we converted into sort of a granary. The original barns are still in use, except one which stood on the site of our modern dairy barn. The main buildings of course, we put up ourselves. The material, Burris, is rammed earth, although a few walls are made of stone from that old quarry you see above the buildings on Stone Hill. The cost was fantastically low when you consider either the cubic footage, as our architects do, or, what seems to me more important, the amount of loving that goes on inside. Our community now has nearly one thousand members. If we were not occupying the buildings you see before you, we should be occupuying some two hundred and fifty dwelling houses and working in a hundred offices, shops, stores, and warehouses. It's an enormous simplification, and a great saving in time and money. One advantage of cooperative housing is that we can deal with the weather. Edward Bellamy tried it, you remember. The streets of his Boston were to be covered when it rained.

Castle: Wasn't it H.G. Wells who supposed that cities would eventually be built in enormous caves, where weather could be manufactured to taste?

Frasier: slightly annoyed I had forgotten that. Of course, the technical problem is difficult if you think of a community unit as large as a city. But as I was going to say, Bellamy was admittedly ahead of his time in the invention of covered streets, though the idea is anticipated in the marqees and canopies of the rich. But he doesn't seem to have realized how much the control of weather contributes. Except in some very favorable climates, which won't solve the problem for all of us, it's still necessary to provide oneself with a raincoat, one or more overcoats, an umbrella, rubbers, overshoes, gloves, hats, a scarf, perhaps ear muffs, not to mention special undergarments of various sorts. And in spite of all that, we frequently get wet and chilled, and, in due course, influenza.

Barbara: What a horrible picture!

Frasier: But a true one. And that's only the beginning. It's only when we conquer the weather, or move into a favorable climate, that we understand its tyranny. No wonder the nouveau Californian is ecstatic! He has a new birth of freedom. He realizes how often he used to surrender to the inconvenience of a bad night-- how many times he was kept from seeing his friends, or from going to the theater or a concert or party.

Burris: Well, what do you do here when it rains?

Frasier: In a community unit this size, it was possible to connect all the personal rooms with the common rooms, dining rooms, theater, and library. You can see how we did it from the arrangement of our buildings. All our entertainments, social functions, dinners,and other personal engagements take place as planned. We never have to go out of doors at all.

Roger: How about going to work?

Frasier: That's an exception only when we work out of doors. In bad weather, our trucks ferry us back and forth between our living quarters and the workshops behind the pines.

Barbara: But I like to be out of doors in bad weather. I love to walk in the rain.

Frasier: Of course you do. In the right kind of rain at the right time! A good rain is something to be savored and enjoyed. But I'll wager you don't feel that way about all kinds of weather. dropping back as if to resume the argument

Barbara: merely trying to hold Frasier's attention A clear, cold day?

Frasier: annoyed, gruffly I'm talking about inclement weather- the inconvenient or plain nasty kind.

Barbara: not disturbed by the overtones That long passageway with all the windows- is that what you mean? Takes a cigarette from a case. Frasier slaps his pockets in a vain search for a match. Barbara hands him a matchbook and Frasier strikes it and lights her cigarette awkwardly.

Frasier: brightening That's what we call the Ladder. It connects the children's quarters with the main rooms. It used to be called Jacob's Ladder- all the little angels going up and down, you know. Our architects caught themselves in time to make something more than a mere passageway out of it. They weren't satisfied to devote so much space to a single purpose and broke it up into a series of stages or alcoves furnished with benches, chairs, and tables. There's a magnificent view. At this time of day, you'll find groups there taking tea. In the morning there's a sort of prolonged coffee hour. Many devotees carry their breakfast there. It's always full of life. But since it's our next stop, why do I bother to tell you all this?

Roger: Who are your architects? Were they members of the community?

Frasier: They were among the very first, though seniority is never discussed among us. They were a young couple interested in modern housing and willing to work within the limits of our initial poverty. It would be hard to exaggerate what they have contributed to Walden Two.

Castle: What do they do now? They must have abandoned their profession.

Frasier: By no means. They were also interested in interior design, especially in inexpensive modern furniture which could be mass-produced. Our most flourishing industry is the manufacture of some unusual pieces which they designed.

Castle: anxious to press what appears to be a case of personal sacrifice for the sake of the community But they ceased to be architects in the strict sense of the word.

Frasier: You wouldn't say that if you could see them now. They had a few lean years, professionally speaking, but now they've really got their reward. You must remember we were forced to build Walden Two by easy stages. Our quarters have some obvious disadvantages. But imagine what it would mean to an architect to design an entire community as a whole!

Barbara: Is that what they are doing?

Frasier: with a cryptic smile I promise you that story all in good time. I'm arranging for you to meet the architects themselves, and I think it's only fair to give them the pleasure of astonishing you.

Burris: mutters to CastleAstonish the bourgeoisie!

Castle: whispers to Burris Do you suppose they are building another one?

SCENE 6- THE LADDER (between ZK and Morningstar)

Frasier: Tomorrow we shall find time to survey the artistic activites of Walden Two. As you may imagine, art flourishes here. Strange as it may seem, there are many things about Walden Two of which I am not compotent to speak. So I have asked Mrs. Meyerson to help me. She is in charge of Clothing for Women, but she can answer most of your questions in other fields. Besides, she's very good company. Glances warmly at Mrs. Meyerson

Mrs. Meyerson: gives Frasier a condescending pat on the shoulder You are so heavy-handed Fraze. turning to the women, brightly Shall we get some tea?

Women exit. When they are gone, Frasier breaks into a quiet laugh as the group walks up to ZK.

Frasier: Our tea service will amuse you. We used to have the usual cups, saucers, and bread-and-butter plates. But one of our teachers, at what I suppose you would call the "college level" developed a class in domestic practices. They got out of hand and began to study our practices- here at Walden Two! One project was to analyze our tea service, which is a sort of coffee service, too, in the morning. Their recommendations were so reasonable that we immediately adopted them. I think you will agree that it's a nice little job in domestic engineering.

SCENE 7 (inside ZK)

Castle: That's all very interesting, but I hope that you aren't going to attribute the success of your community to trivial technical achievements of that sort. After all, a slight improvement in a tea service won't shake the world.

Frasier: We shake the world in other ways. The actual achievement is beside the point. The main thing is, we encourage our people to view every habit and custom with an eye to possible improvement. A constantly experimental attitude toward everything- that's all we need. Solutions to problems of every sort follow almost miraculously.

Castle: Almost miraculously? You lay no claim to miracles, Mr. Frasier?

Burris: to Frasier I can understand why a builder of Utopias would choose to have only beautiful women about him, but I'm amazed at your success.

Frasier: looking at Burris very seriously I assure you there was no deliberate choice. earnestly We tried to get a representative sample-- a true cross section. We failed in some respects, but I can't see how a selection could have been made, even unconsciously, on the basis of personal appearance. to Mrs. Meyerson: Do you think so, Rachel?

Mrs. Meyeron: I'm not sure you're right, Fraze.

Burris: eying female audience members But most women are not so attractive as this. Waves hand to indicate the length of the passageway.

Frasier: dryly So that's why you're dawdling! I thought you were looking at the pictures.

Mrs. Meyerson: quickly A great many women can be quite attractive. Each in her own way. Here we are not so much at the mercy of commercial designers, and so many of our women manage to appear quite beautiful simply because they are not required to dress within strict limits.

Frasier: unforgivably patronizing: for the Moment, that very fact will prevent Mr. Burris from fully enjoying this hobby of his. turns to Burris Going out of style isn't a natural process, but a manipulated change which destroys the beauty of last year's dress in order to make it worthless. We opposed this by broadening our tastes. But the required change has not yet taken place in you. In a day or so you will know what I mean. Little touches which now seem out of style and which, in spite of what you say, must mar your appreciation, will then appear natural and pleasing. You will discover that a line or feature is never in itself dated, just as you eventually come to regard the dress of another country as beautiful, even though you first judge it comical or ugly.

Burris: looking directly at Mrs. Meyerson: Nothing is interfering with my appreciation of beauty at this very moment.

Frasier: Come, come. Politics and flattery are strangers here.

Mrs. Meyerson: I think miss Macklin will understand what Frasier is trying to say. to Barbara: Would you care to tell us what you think of our dress?

Barbara: caught unprepared It's a little hard to say. I don't think I'd notice anything unusual about some of you. Together, though-- I don't know. Something about the hair, for one thing. It's very attractive, but not always-- in style.

Mrs. Meyerson: Please don't be embarrased. You are quite right.

Barbara: hastening to add Yet there is a style about it. You are like women from different countries. And many of you are beautiful.

Frasier: Full dress is a form of conspicuous consumtion which doesn't amuse us-- except when we see it in others.

Castle: glumly I'm surprised that a Utopia has anything but lounging pajamas.

Mrs Meyerson: laughs gaily Many people are surprised that we dress up. But we have our reasons. Fraze could tell you more about that than I. It isn't that we mind being thought queer, I'm sure. Perhaps we don't want to think ourselves queer.

Burris: What if someone liked to be really shabby? Would you permit him to follow his whim?

Frasier: I can't imagine it. But I know you can. You are thinking of a world in which a fine suit is a mark of wealth. A shabby suit is a sign of poverty or a protest against the whole confounded system. Either is unthinkable here.

Burris: We are grateful for your kindness-- not only in asking us to visit Walden Two, but in giving us so much of your time. I'm afraid it's something of an imposition.

Frasier: On the contrary, I'm fully paid for talking to you. Two labor credits are allowed each day for taking charge of guests of Walden Two. I can only use one of them, but it's a bargain even so, because I am more than fully paid by your company.

Burris: Labor credits?

Frasier: I'm sorry. I had forgotten. Labor credits are a sort of money. But they're not coins or bills-- just entries in a ledger. All goods and services are free, as you saw in the main dining room. Each of us pays for what he uses with twelve hundred labor credits each year--say four credits for each workday. We change the value according to the needs of the community. At two hours of work per credit-- an eight hour day-- we could operate at a handsome profit. We're satisfied to keep just a shade beyond breaking even. The profit system is bad even when the worker gets the profits, because the strain of overwork isn't relieved by even a large reward. All we ask is to make expenses, with a slight margin of safety; we adjust the value of the labor credit accordingly. At present it's about one hour of work per credit.

Burris: with an overtone of outraged virtue, as if he were asking if they were all adulterous: Your members work only four hours per day?

Frasier: casually On the average. A credit system also makes it possible to evaluate a job in terms of the willingness of the members to undertake it. After all, a man isn't doing more or less than his share because of the time he puts in; it's what he's doing that counts. So we simply assign different credit values to different kinds of work, and adjust them from time to time on the basis of demand. Bellamy suggested the principle in Looking Backward.

Burris: An unpleasant job like cleaning the sewers has a high value, I suppose.

Frasier: Exactly. Somewhere around one and a half credits per hour. The sewer man works a little over two hours per day. Pleasanter jobs have lower values- say point seven or point eight. That means five hours per day or even more. Working in the flower gardens has a very low value-- point one. No one makes a living at it, but many people like to spend a little time that way, and we give them credit. In the long run, when the values have been adjusted, all kinds of work are equally desireable. If they weren't, there would be a demand for the more desireable, and the credit value would be changed. Once in a while, we manipulate a preference if some job seems to be avoided without cause.

Castle: I suppose you put phonographs in your dormitories which repeat, "I like to work in the sewers. Sewers are lots of fun."

Frasier: No. Walden Two isn't that kind of Brave New World. We don't propagandize. That's a basic principle. I don't deny that it would be possible. We could make the heaviest work appear most honorable and desireable. Something of the sort has always been done by well-organized governments-- to facilitate the recruiting of armies, for example. But not here. You might say that we propagandize all labor, if you like, but I see no objection to that. If we can make work pleasanter by proper training, why shouldn't we? But I digress.

Castle: What about the knowlege and skill required in many jobs? Doesn't that interfere with free bidding? Certainly you can't allow just anyone to work as a doctor.

Frasier: No, of course not. The principle has to be modified where long training is needed. Still, the preferences of the community as a whole determine the final value. If our doctors were conspicuously overworked according to our standards, it would be hard to get young people to choose that profession. We must see to it that there are enough doctors to bring the average schedule with in range of the Walden Two standard.

Burris: What if nobody wanted to be a doctor?

Frasier: Our trouble is the other way around.

Castle: I thought as much. Too many of your young members will want to go into interesting lines in spite of the work load. What do you do then?

Frasier: Let them know how many places will be available, and let them decide. We're glad to have more than enough doctors, of course, and could always find some sort of work for them, but we can't offer more of a strictly medical practice than our disgustingly good health affords.

Castle: with ill-concealed excitement Then you don't offer complete personal freedom, do you? You haven't resolved the confliclt between laissez-faire and a planned society.

Frasier: I think we have. Yes. But you must know more about our educational system before I can show you how. The fact is, it's very unlikely that anyone at Walden Two will set his heart on a course of action so firmly that he'll be unhappy if it isn't open to him. That's as true of the choice of a girl as of a profession. Personal jealosy is almost unknown among us, and for a simple reason; we provide a broad experience and many attractive alternatives. The tender sentiment of the "one and only" has less to do with constancy of heart than with singleness of opportuntity. The chances are that our superfluous young paramedic will find other courses open to him which will very soon prove equally attractive.

Burris: There's another case too. You must have some form of government. I don't see how you can permit a free choice of jobs there.

Frasier: Our only government is a Board of Planners. The name goes back to the days when Walden Two existed only on paper. There are six Planners, usually three men and three women. The sexes are on such equal terms here that no one guards equality very jealously. They may serve for ten years, but no longer. Three of us who have been on the Board since the beginning retire this year. The Planners are charged with the success of the community. They make policies, review the work of the Managers, keep an eye on the state of the nation in general. They also have certain judicial functions. They're allowed six hundred credits a year for their services, which leaves two credits still due each day. At least one must be worked out in straight physical labor. That's why I can claim only one credit for acting as your Virgil through il paradiso.

Burris: It was Beatrice.

Rogers: How do you choose your Planners?

Frasier: The Board selects a replacement from a pair of names supplied by the Managers.

Castle: The members don't vote for them?

Frasier: emphatically No.

Burris: hastily What are Managers?

Frasier: What the name implies: specialists in charge of the divisions and services of Walden Two. There are Managers of Food, Health, Play, Arts, Dentistry, Dairy, various industries, Supply, Labor, Nursery School, Advanced Education, and dozens of others. They requisition labor according to their needs, and their job is the managerial function which survives after they've assigned as much as possible to others. They're the hardest workers among us. It's an exceptional person who seeks and finds a place as Manager. He must have ability and a real concern for the welfare of the community.

Castle: They are elected by the members, I suppose?

Frasier: The Managers aren't honorific personages, but carefully trained and tested specialists. How could the members gague their ability? No, these are very much like Civil Service jobs. You work up to be a Manager-- through intermediate positions which carry a good deal of responsibility and provide the necessary apprenticeship.

Castle: In a carefully controlled voice, as if he were filing away the point for future use. Then the members have no voice whatsoever.

Frasier: flatly Nor do they wish to have.

Burris: hastily Do you count your professional people as Mangers?

Frasier: Some of them. The manager of Health is one of our doctors--Mr. Meyerson. But the word "profession" has little meaning here. All professional training is paid for by the community and is looked upon as part of our common capital, exactly like any other tool.

Burris: Mr. Meyerson? Your doctor is not an M.D.? Not a real phsician?

Frasier: As real as they come, with a degree from a top-ranking medical school. But we don't use honorific titles. Why call him Doctor Meyerson? We don't call our Dairy Manager Dairyman Larson. The medical profession has been slow to give up the chicanery of prescientific medicine. It's abandoning the hocus-pocus of the ciphered perscription, but the honorific title is still too dear. In Walden Two--

Burris: Then you distinguish only Planners, Managers, and Workers...

Frasier: And Scientists. The community supports a certain amount of research. Experiments are in progress in plant and animal breeding, the control of infant behavior, educational processes of several sorts, and the use of some of our raw materials. Scientists receive the same labor credits as Managers-- two or three per day depending on the work.

Castle: raising eyebrows ih mock surprise: No pure science?

Frasier: Only in our spare time. And I shan't be much disturbed by your elevated eybrows until you show me where any other condition prevails. Our policy is better than that of your educational institutions where the would-be scientist pays his way by teaching.

Burris: Have you forgotten our centers of pure research?

Frasier: Pure? If you mean completely unshackled with respect to means and ends, I challenge you to name five. It's otherwise pay-as-you-go. Do you know of any "pure" scientist in our universities who wouldn't settle for two hours of physical labor each day instead of the soul-searching work he's now compelled to do in the name of education?

Burris: after a long silence Why should everyone engage in menial work? Isn't that a really a misuse of manpower if a man has special talents or abilities?

Frasier: There's no misuse. Some of us would be smart enough to get along without doing physical work, but we're also smart enough to know that in the long run it would mean trouble. A leisure class would grow like a cancer until the strain upon the rest of the community became intolerable. We might escape the consequences in our own lifetime, but we couldn't visualize a permanent society on such a plan. The really intelligent man doesn't want to feel that his work is being done by anyone else. He's sensitive enough to be disturbed by slight resentments, which, multiplied a millionfold, mean his downfall. Perhaps he remembers his own reactions when others have imposed on him; perhaps he has had a more severe ethical training. Call it conscience, if you like. Throws head back and studies the ceiling. Speaking in a tone dramatically far away: That's the virtue of Walden Two which pleases me the most. I was never happy in being waited on. I could never enjoy the fleshpots for thinking of what might be going on below stairs. In a loud, clear voice which can leave no doubt of his sincerity: Here a man can hold up his head and say, "I've done my share!" He seems ashamed of his excitement, of his show of sentiment.

Castle: abruptly But can't superior ability be held in check so it won't lead to tyranny? And isn't it possible to convince the menial laborer that he's only doing the kind of work for which he's best suited, and that the smart fellow is really working too?

Frasier: rallying himself with an effort Provided the smart fellow is really working. Nobody resents the fact that our Planners and Managers could wear white collars if they wished. But you're quite right: with adequate cultural design, a society might run smoothly, even though the physical work were not evenly distributed. It might even be possible, through such engineering to sustain a small leisure class without serious danger. A well-organized society is so efficient and productive that a small area of waste is unimportant. A caste system of brains and brawn could be made to work because it is in the interest of brains to be fair to brawn.

Castle: impatiently Then why insist on universal brawn?

Frasier: Simply because brains and brawn are never exclusive. None of us is all brains or all brawn, and our lives must be adjusted accordingly. It's fatal to forget the minority element-- fatal to treat brawn as if there were no brains, and perhaps more speedily fatal to treat brains as if there were no brawn. One or two hours of physical work is a health measure. Men have always lived by their muscles-- you can tell that from their physiques. We mustn't let our big muscles atrophy just because we've developed superior ways of using the little ones. We haven't yet evolved a pure Man Thinking. Ask any doctor about the occupational diseases of the unoccupied. Because of certain cultural predjudices which Velben might have noted, the doctor can prescribe nothing more than golf, or a mechanical horse, or chopping wood, provided the patient has no real need of wood. But what the doctor would like to say is "Go to work!"

But there's a better reason why brains must not neglect brawn. Nowadays it's the smart fellow, the small-muscle user, who finds himself in the position of governor. In Walden Two he makes plans, obtains materials, devises codes, evaluates trends, conducts experiments. In work of this sort the manager must keep an eye on the managed, must understand his needs, must experience his lot. That's why our Planners, Managers, and Scientists are required to work out some of their labor credits in menial tasks. It's our constitutional guarantee that the problems of the big-muscle user won't be forgotten.

Silent pause.

Castle: But four hours a day! I can't take that seriously! Think of the struggle to get a 40-hour week! What would our industrialists not give for your secret. Or our politicians! Mr. Frasier, we're all compelled to admire the life you are showing us, but I feel somehow as if you were exhibiting a lovely lady floating in mid-air. You've even passed a hoop about her to emphasize your wizardry. Now when you pretend to tell us how the trick is done, we're told that the lady is supported by a slender thread. The explanation is as hard to accept as the illusion. Where's your proof?

Frasier: The proof of an accomplished fact? Don't be absurd! But perhaps I can satisfy you by telling you how we knew it could be done before we tried.

Castle: dryly That would be something.

Frasier: Very well, then. Standing next to a big sheet of blank paper, he takes a magic marker from his pocket and begins to scrawl numbers on it. Let's take a standard seven-day week of eight hours a day. (The forty-hour week hasn't reached into every walk of life. Many a farmer would call it a vacation.) That's nearly 3000 hours per year. Our plan was to reduce it to 1500. Actually we did better than that, but how were we sure we could cut it in half? Will an answer to that satisfy you?

Castle: It will astonish me.

Frasier: quickly, as if he had actually been spurred on by Castle's remark. Very well, then. First of all we have the obvious fact that four is more than half of eight. We work more skillfully and faster during the first four hours of the day. The eventual effect of a four-hour day is enormous, provided the rest of a man's time isn't spent too strenuously. Let's take a conservative estimate, to allow for tasks which can't be speeded up, and say that our four hours are the equivalent of five out of the usual eight. Do you agree?

Castle: I should be contentious if I didn't. But you're a long way from eight.

Frasier: with a satisfied smile Secondly, we have the extra motivation that comes when a man is working for himself instead of for a profit-making boss. That's a true "incentive wage", and the effect is prodigious. Waste is avoided, workmanship is better, deliberate slowdowns are unheard of. Shall we say that four hours for oneself are worth six out of eight hours for the other fellow?

Burris: And I hope that you will point out that the four are no harder than the six. Loafing doesn't really make a job easier. Boredom's more exhausting than heavy work. But what about the other two?

Frasier: Let me remind you that not all Americans capable of working are now employed. We're really comparing eight hours a day on the part of some with four hours on the part of practically all. In Walden Two we have no leisure class, no prematurely aged or occupationally disabled, no drunkenness, no criminals, far fewer sick. We have no unemployment due to bad planning. No one is paid to sit idle for the sake of maintaing labor standards. Our children work at an early age-- moderately, but happily. What will you settle for, Mr. Castle? May I add another hour to my six?

Castle: laughing good-naturedly I'm afraid I should let you add more than that.

Frasier: obviosly pleased Let's be conservative, and say that when every potential worker puts in four hours for himself, we have the equivalent of perhaps two-thirds of all available workers putting in seven out of eight hours for somebody else. Now, what about those who are actually at work? Are they working to the best advantage? Have they been carefully selected for the work they are doing? Are they making the best use of labor-saving machines and methods? What percentage of farms in America are mechanized as we are here? Do workers welcome and improve upon labor-saving devices and methods? How many good workers are free to move on to more productive levels? How much education do workers receive to make them as efficient as possible?

Castle: I can't let you claim much credit for better use of manpower, if you give your members a free choice of jobs.

Frasier: It's an extravagence, you're right. In another generation we shall do better; our educational system will see to that. I agree. Add nothing for the waste due to misplaced talents. Frasier is silent for a moment, as if calculating whether he could afford to make this concession.

Burris: You still have an hour to account for.

Frasier: I know, I know. Well, how much of the machinery of distribution have we eliminated-- with the release of how many men? How many jobs have we simply eliminated? Walk down any city street. How often will you find people really usefully engaged? There's a bank. And beyond it a loan company. And an advertising agency. And over there an insurance company. And another. We have a hard time explaining insurance to our children. Insurance against what? And there's a funeral home-- a crematory disposes of our ashes as it sees fit. Throwing off the subject with a shake of the head. And there and there the ubiquitous bars and taverns, equally useless. Drinking isn't prohibited in Walden Two, but we all give it up as soon as we gratify the needs which are responsible for the habit in the world at large.

Burris: If I may interrupt this little tour, what are those needs?

Frasier: Well, why do you drink?

Burris: I don't-- a great deal. But I like a coctail before dinner. In fact, my company isn't worth much until I've had one.

Frasier: On the contrary, I find it delightful.

Burris: It's different here...

Frasier and Castle laugh raucously.

Frasier: Of course it's different here! You need your coctail to counteract the fatigue and boredome of a mismanaged society. Here we need no antidotes. No opiates. But why else do you drink? Or why does anyone? --since I can see you're not a typical case.

Burris: stammering Why-- to forget ones troubles-- Of course, I see what you will say to that. But to get away, let's say, or to get a change-- to lower one's inhibitions. You have inhibitions, don't you? Perhaps someone else can help me out. Turns tactlessly to Barbara, who looks away.

Frasier: chuckles quietly Let me point out a few businesses we haven't eliminated, but certainly streamlined with respect to manpower. The big department stores, the meat markets, the corner drugstores, the groceries, the automobile display rooms, the furniture stores, the shoe stores, the candy stores, all staffed with unnecessary people doing unnecessary things. Half the restaurants can be closed for good. And there's a beauty parlor and there's a bowling alley. And all the time busses and streetcars are whizzing by, carrying people to and fro from one useless place to another.

Castle: Take your last hour and welcome. I should have taken your word for it. After all, as you say, it's an accomplished fact.

Frasier: Would you like to see me make it ten hours? Smiles boyishly and everyone laughs. I haven't mentioned our most dramatic saving in manpower.

Burris: Then you still have a chance to get away from the book. I must confess that I'm not quite so impressed as Mr. Castle. Most of what you said so far is fairly standard criticism of our economic system. You've been pretty close to the professors.

Frasier: Of course I have. Even the professors know all this. The economics of a community are child's play.

Burris: What about those two extra hours?

Frasier: waiting a moment, looking from one person to another Cherchez la femme! stops to enjoy the puzzlement of the others The women! The women! What do you suppose they've been doing all this time? They're our greatest achievement! We have industrialized huzzifry! the others do not understand what "huzzifry" means Huzzifry....housewifery. Some of our women are still engaged in activities which would have been part of their jobs as housewives, but they work much more efficiently and happily. At least half of them are available for other work. sits back with evident satisfaction.

Castle: I'm worried. You've made a four-hour day seem convincing by pointing to a large part of the population not gainfully employed. But many of those people don't live as well as you do. Our present average production may need only four hours per day per man-- but that won't do. It may be something more than the average. You'd better leave the unproductive sharecropper out of it. He neither produces nor consumes-- poor devil.

Frasier: It's true, we enjoy a high standard of living. But our personal wealth is actually very small. The goods we consume don't come to much in dollars and cents. We practice the Thoreauvian principle of avoiding unnecessary posessions. Thoreau pointed out that the average Concord laborer worked ten or fifteen years of his life just to have a roof over his head. Our food is plentiful and healthful, but not expensive. There's little or no spoilage or waste in distribution or storage, and none due to miscalculated needs. The same is true of other staples. We don't feel the pressure of promotional devices which stimulate unnecessary consumption. We have some automobiles and trucks, but far fewer than the hundred family cars we should own if we weren't living in a community. Our radio installation is far less expensive than the three or four hundred sets we should otherwise be operating-- even if some of us were radioless sharecroppers. No, Mr. Castle, we strike for economic freedom at this very point-- by devising a very high standard of living with low consumption of goods. We consume less than the average American. long pause, then seized with a sudden fear that the others are bored, he frowns. You know, of course, that this is the least interesting side of Walden Two. And the least important too-- absolutely the least important. How'd we get started on it anyway?

Burris: You confessed you would be paid for talking to us. And very much underpaid, I may add. I don't know what the dollars-and-cents value of one labor credit may be, but it's a most inadequate measure of an enjoyable evening.

The others murmur assent, and Frasier smiles with obvious delight.

Frasier: While you're in that mood, I should tell you that you'll be permited to contribute labor credits while you're here, too. We ask only two per day, since you're not acquiring a legal interest in the community or clothing yourselves at our expense.

Burris: taken aback Fair enough.

Frasier: We don't begrudge the food you consume or the space you occupy, nor are we afraid of the effect of idleness upon the morale of our members. We ask you to work because we should feel inhospitable if you didn't. Be Frank now. No matter how warmly we welcomed you, wouldn't you soon feel that you ought to leave? But a couple of hours a day will fully pay for the services the community renders and incidentally do a lot of good. And you may stay as long as you like with no fear of sponging. And because I receive a credit each day for acting as your guide, you needn't feel that you're imposing on me.

Burris: What's to prevent some visitor--say, a writer--from putting in his two hours and staying on for good? He would find ample time for his trade and buy his own clothes and secure his own future without being a member.

Frasier: We've no objection, but we should ask that one half of any money made during his stay be turned over to Walden Two.

Castle: Oh ho! Then it would be possible for a membe to accumulate a private fortutune--by writing books, say, in his spare time.

Frasier: With genuine surprise, Whatever for? quickly changing tone As it happens, it isn't possible. All money earned by our members belongs to the community. Part of our foreign exchange comes from private enterprises of that sort.

Castle: Rather unfair to the member compared with the guest, isn't it?

Frasier: What's unfair about it? Stands up as he speaks, and the others get the hint, and rise also. What does the member want money for? Remember, the guest doesn't receive medical services, clothing, or security against old age or ill-health. I shouldn't be acting in the interests of the community if I kept you from your beds any longer. We expect a full day's work from you tomorrow morning. Can you find your way to your rooms?

SCENE 8- Breakfast (inside ZK)

Mary and Burris enter, looking well rested, but not completely awake yet. They stretch and yawn a little.

Mary: My roommate isn't up yet.

Burris: Neither is mine. What about the boys?

Mary: They ought to be up. Steve went to bed early.

Burris: All very proper.

Mary: easily, with a laugh: Oh, I didn't mean that! Steve and I have been going together for a long time.

Burris: Let's see if they're up. taps lightly on door. Mary and Burris look at each other inquiringly as they listen. There is no answer. Let's play hookey and have breakfast together. Just the two of us. Mary gives a quick nod. She seems rather surprised, but pleased. Taking a deep breath: I feel wonderful!

Mary: So do I. It was so quiet last night.

Burris: I can't honestly tell you whether I slept or not. I must have, of course, since it was ten o'clock then and is eight-forty-five now. This seems to strained and academic for Mary, but after a moment she seems to enjoy it. They get food and sit at the table. We forgot coffee. gets up and goes for coffee. Cream and sugar?

Mary: jumps up I'll come with you. Burris starts to protest. Barbara says no one ever waits on a lady here.

Burris: clicks tongue But I wasn't treating you as a lady. I could get two cups this morning, you could get two this noon, and so on. Think of that as a piece of human engineering. I'm sure Mr. Frasier would approve. I wonder how many man-hours per year we'd save?

Mary: puzzled but delighted But we aren't going to eat together for a year!

Burris: What a pity! Then all those hours will be wasted.

Mary: with growing animation And anyway, it wouldn't take us that long to learn to get coffee with the rest of our breakfast.

Burris: knitting his brow So it wouldn't! So it wouldn't! How stupid of me!

Mary: handing Burris a cup Silly! they carry their coffee back to the table.

Frasier: So Barbara is a Lai-dy...

Mary: She's awfully nice. And she's beautiful, isn't she? I've never known anybody like that.

Burris: Do you like her?

Mary: I like her a lot

Burris: Rodge seems very fond of her.

Mary: He is.

Burris: When are they getting married?

Mary: I don't know.

Burris: I wonder what we're going to do this morning? For labor credits, I mean.

Mary: Or how long will it take, I wonder? Steve ought to be up.

Burris: Oh I imagine there will be plenty of time. Two credits, Frasier said. We'll all do something terribly menial and get it over with in ten minutes.

Mary: seriously I don't think I'd like anything so...hard.

Burris: Something about one point zero zero. How would that be? Mary looks puzzled and it seems that the atmosphere is fogging up. Rogers, Steve, Castle, and Barbara show up, and Mary and Burris get up to join them at the labor desk with Frasier.

SCENE 9- The Labor Desk (inside ZK)

Barbara: We are your slaves, master. Do with us as you will. Frasier looks at her with surprise, but she stares him down.

Frasier: to Labor Manager What have you to offer my friends?

Labor Assigner: referring to a small box of cards They'll be staying until Monday noon, is that right? Five days-- ten credits. I can give them work at one point two which doesn't call for any particuar experience. They could all work together, unless you'd rather have them spread out.

Frasier: No, they'll see the rest of the community at their leisure. What do you have in mind?

Labor Assigner: The Housekeeper has been asking to have the double-glazed windows all along the south side taken apart and washed. It means unscrewing the inner window, washing both surfaces carefully, replacing a drying cartridge, and putting the windows back. If your friends organized as a team, they ought to make good progress. Two hours each day for three days at one point two would give them Sunday off.

Frasier: turning to the others How do you feel about a spot of window-washing? they murmur approval Very well, then. Put them down for that. If you call the Housekeeper, I'll get them fitted out with coveralls from Community Clothes.

SCENE 10- Lunch (ZK)

Frasier: The secret of our success is this: we avoid the goat and the loom.

Burris: I thought I saw some goats down by the ravine...

Frasier: with a quick frown You did. And you will see some looms, too. But power-driven.

Castle: in excellent spirits I trust the goats are of the usual grass-burning, hand-operated variety.

laughter. Frasier joins in the laughter, but is the first to stop.

Frasier: The point I want to make, before my figure of speech miscaried so unhappily-- is that we avoid the temptation to return to primitive modes of farming and industry. Communities are usually richer in manpower than in materials or cash, and this has often led to the fatal belief that there was manpower to spare.

Burris: I should think that might be the case.

Frasier: There's never any labor to spare, because it must be kept at a minimum for psychological reasons. But a better way to explain the goat and the loom-- if that expression won't be misunderstood by our professors-- is that Utopias usually spring from a rejection of modern life. Our point of view here is'nt atavistic, however. We look ahead, not backwards, for a better version.

Rogers: Haven't you gone back to the farm?

Frasier: We all go back to the farm for food and clothing, or someone goes back for us. We haven't gone back in the course of technological progress. No one is more interested in saving labor than we. No industrialist ever strove harder to get rid of an unnecessary worker. The difference is, we get rid of the work, not the worker.

Burris: But after all, what's wrong with a spot of hard work? Why are you so concerned to avoid it?

Frasier: There's nothing wrong with hard work and we aren't concerned to avoid it. We simply avoid uncreative and uninteresting work. If we could satisfy our needs without working that way at all, we'd do so, but it's never possible except through some form of slavery, and I can't see how it can be done if we're all to work and share alike. What we ask is that a man's work not tax his strength or threaten his happiness. Our energies can then be turned to art, science, play, the exercise of skills, the satisfaction of curiosities, the conquest of nature, the conquest of man-- the conquest of man himself, but never of other men. We have created leisure without slavery, a society which neither sponges nor makes war. But we can't stop there. We must live up to our responsibility. Can we build another Golden Age? shakes himself, as if the subject were physically painful. Let's move along. We have more immediate questions to answer.

The group walks through the lobby doors and down to ZK basement.

SCENE 11- Food Storage (ZK Basement)

In this giant food locker, beneath the surface of this hill, we hold a year's supply of frozen vegetables and fruits. Many of these are prepared for storage in special ways. For example, ears of fresh corn are "milked" to get out the nutritious parts while leaving the hulls on the cobs. The product is delicious. You must try our corn souffle. A specialty of the house. The Food Processing manager can commandeer a large force of skilled help to prepare the vegetables and fruits at just the right times. The adaptable manpower is also put to another use. An agent of the community keeps in touch with the agriculture of the countyand frequently finds a farmer with a crop which he was not able to harvest. The community then makes a deal to harvest on shares. A fairly stiff bargain can be driven, since the farmer would otherwise lose the crop. We send off three or four truckloads of workers in the early morning, and they come back at noon with a year's supply of cherries, or strawberries, or tomatoes. By evening the whole crop has been prepared and frozen, at very little cost.

Castle: Sounds like a plague of locusts. You allow for this vandalism, I suppose, when proving that four hours a day will suffice?

Group walks to ZK loading dock, where two co's are unloading cans of milk from a truck.

Frasier: We can get a ride to the dairy in a moment. And we may as well start there in our tour of the farm. I had expected Mrs. Meyerson to join us. Looks about from one side to the other as if dramatizing Expectancy. Everyone climbs on to the platform of the truck and holds on desperately as they sway over the unpaved road which serves the kitchen and storehouses.

SCENE 12- The Dairy

(Cameron ad-libs about the Dairy Program for a few minutes, focusing on details rather than ideal abstractions.)

Frasier: The Managers of the farm here had been associated in a farmer's cooperative which was on the verge of failure when Walden Two came along to save them. realizes that this move was too obvious, so he casts about quickly for another topic. Points to a small building. With a touch of irony, but also with satisfaction: A real achivement in social engineering. It's imopossible to work aroud cattle or a creamery, or with pigs or poultry, without picking up objectionable odors. Normal cleanliness isn't enough. Our farmers began to suffer a certain ostracism, and the credit value of farm work began to go up too. So-- we took the problem seriously. This building is divided into three parts. When the farmers come to work, they take off their clothes in the first room. They then walk through to the third room and dress for work. On their return, they remove their work clothes, take a shower in the middle room, and replace their regular clothes.

Castle: chanting "Where are you going, my pretty maid? 'To the shower bath,' she said."

Frasier: in great haste I should explain that there are two series of rooms, one for each sex. The group starts walking in the direction of the Hammock Shop. Over there are the poultry houses, and farther down , the piggery. Before us lies the truck gardens. Let's walk in the direction of the workshops. I should point out that the community is not, of course, completely self-sufficient. It needs certain materials and equiptment and has to buy power and pay taxes. Hence it had to create "foreign exchange." The community has not quite yet made the best use of its supply of skilled labor. But several industries are already well established, and others are being worked out. The community is paying its way. Frasier occasionally glances in the direction of the main building. Upon reaching the center of the courtyard, he drops upon the grass and invites the others to join him. Mrs. Meyerson has just left the hall. She will be here in ten minutes, and I think we'd better wait. Stares at the grass with glassy eyes, speaking in a hollow voice: We have been applying a scientific analysis to our allocation of labor in our industries. We've made impressive leaps, but there are still several areas where it could be done more efficiently........Suddenly, in a gesture of impatience, he throws up his hand But this is idiotic! There's no problem here at all! No one can seriously doubt that a well-managed community will get along successfully as an economic unit. A child could prove it. The real problems are psychological. I shouldn't talk about these details at all. They'll mislead you.

enter Mrs. Meyerson, walking with a graceful yet rapid, rather military style. Frasier jumps up quickly and takes a few steps to meet her. She gives him her left hand and extends her right to the two Barbara and Mary.

Mrs. Meyerson: I'm dreadfully sorry. I hope you haven't waited long. Turns to Frasier The Bach went badly, and Fergy kept us on and on.

Group walks to Hammock Shop

SCENE 13- The Hammock Shop

To Frasier's evident surprise, the shop is deserted.

Burris: How come no one is working in this weaving shop in the middle of the day?

Frasier: I suppose it's too nice a day for this sort of work. There's much to be done out of doors at this time of the year. In bad weather, you would find this place full of life. We make all our wollens, with some to spare. Our looms, as you see, are power-driven. without a smile As I believe I've already said, we can't advertise our cloth as hand-woven, but our looms are carefully tended by skilled weavers, and the product is every way as good. In addition to the weaving, we have a large wood-working shop, a metal-working and machine shop, a sawmill, and experimental laboratories, but (uneasily) it's likely that those shops are deserted now too. It's the sort of day one likes to work outside. Some young men and women are at work right now with an earth rammer, making building blocks. Several rooms are being added to one of the personal halls. These young people will occupy them. There's a certain satisfaction from building your own living quarters. A sort of nesting instinct. It has become part of the process of being in ove in Walden Two. Various experience people supervise the work, of course.

Castle: Not the whole process of being in love, I trust.

Group walks back towards ZK

Frasier: So the Bach went badly, Rachel...

Mrs. Meyerson: Only at first. It will be worth hearing.

Frasier: At eight o'clock?

Mrs. Meyerson: Yes. For about an hour.

Burris: Whas it a Bach chorus you were talking about?

Mrs. Meyerson: pleased, and a shade surprised Yes. We're working on some of the choruses from the B Minor Mass.

Burris: Oh wonderful! For some reason I've never heard the B Minor.

Frasier: to Castle Well, what do you think of the Lovely Lady now? Are you satisfied she's not really floating in air?

Castle: I'm afraid I preferred her as an illusion, but it has been interesting to see what's underneath.

Mrs. Meyerson: to Burris, with ill-concealed excitement What on earth are they talking about?

Frasier: We prefer the illusion too, if you wish to call it that. We enjoy floating in air. There's enough of the "enfant terrible" in us to wish to violate the inviolable. I confess that I enjoy the Lovely Lady as an illusion. But she's made of solid flesh, pound for pound, and we really obey all the laws.

Mrs. Meyerson: voice pitched very high Fraze! What on earth are you saying?

Frasier: Simply that we're no freer of economic law than the magician's lovely assistant is free of the law of gravitation. But we enjoy seeming to be free. Leisure is our levitation.

Mrs. Meyerson: Oh, you are beyond me. starts to move away Coming, Fraze? Frasier and Mrs. Meyerson stride away across the lawn.

Burris: to Castle By the way. I think the Lovely Lady's name is Rachel.

SCENE-3X5 Board

Burris: gesturing at the 3X5 Board with a sweep of the hand There's certainly a great deal going on.

Frasier: There is. Invariably. Much more than you will realize until you've grown accustomed to small print. You must feel a certain lack of excitement in these announcements. No garish posters, no bright lights, none of the paraphenalia with which the entertainment industry whips up a jaded public. But in a day or so these simple notices will begin to take on all the excitement of the shimmering marquee. When there are no signs ten feet high, five feet will do. When there are none five feet high, one foot serves well enough. It isn't the color or brightness or size of a poster which makes it exciting. It's the experiences which have accompanied similar posters in the past. The excitement is a conditioned reflex. Our bulletin board is our Great White Way, and we're dazzled by it.

Steve and Mary enter with several young people. One young person steps up to Frasier.

Young Person: Do you mind if we borrow your friends for the evening? They don't want to hear the B Minor Mass.

Frasier: scowling at Steve and Mary How do they know? Have they ever heard it?

Young Person: No, but they don't think they'd like it. We're going to the dance.

Frasier dismisses them with a wave of the hand.

Frasier: Somehow or other, you have avoided the most fatuous of all our visitors' questions. "If you don't work, then whatever do you do with all your time?" I merely wanted to bring up an aspect of Walden Two that you mustn't neglect in evaluating us. I mean our patronage of the arts. This is not a great age in either art or music. But why not? Why shouldn't our civilization produce art as abundantly as it produces science and technology? Obviously because the right conditions are lacking. That's where Walden Two comes in. Here, the right conditions can be achieved.

Burris: What do we really know about those conditions?

Frasier: Not much, I grant you, but enough. Leisure, for example. A wealthy class to provide leisure for the artist is characteristic of a great age. Artists aren't lazy, but they must be reasonably free of the responsibility of earning a livelihood. Isn't that the very essence of art-- that it taps the energies and talents which in a more demanding world would go into earning a living?

Burris: I can show you some exceptions-- artist who have worked hard, aside from their art.

Frasier: dogmatically But the rule stands.

When artists and composers aren't patronized, they generally get a modicum of leisure by becoming irresposible. Hence their reputation with the public. Irresponsibility or security-- the momentary effect is the same. But in the long run a good living is more productive.

Burris: I'm not so sure your conditions are lacking in our present culture. What about prizes and fellowships?

Frasier: Prizes only scratch the surface. You can't encourage art with money alone. What you need is a culture. You need a real opportunity for young artists. The career must be economically sound and socially acceptable, and prizes won't do that. And you need appreciation-- there must be audiences, not to pay the bills, but to enjoy. All in all, we really know a lot about what is needed. We need to get the artist before he has proved his worth. A great productive culture must stimulate large numbers of the young and untried. Philanthropy can't do that. It may produce a few great works of art, but it's only a start. Don't expect a Golden Age.

(swallows carefully and continues with great deliberation) You will grow tired of hearing this, but I must say it again and again. A Golden Age, whether of art or music or science or peace or plenty, is out of reach of our economic and governmental techniques. Something may be done by accident, as it has from time to time in the past, but not by deliberate intent. At this very moment enormous numbers of intelligent men and women of good will are trying to build a better world. But problems are born faster than they can be solved. Our civilization is running away like a frightened horse, her flanks flashing with sweat, her nostrils breathing a frothy mist; and as she runs, her speed and her panic increase together. As for your politicians, your professors, your writers-- let them wave their arms and shout as wildly as they will. They can't bring the frantic beast under control.

Castle: What do you do with a runaway?

Frasier: flatly Let her run till she drops from exhaustion. Meanwhile, let's see what we can do with her lovely colt. Dramatic pause

Take music, for example. If you live in Walden Two and like music, you may go as far as you like. I don't mean a few minutes a day-- I mean all the time and energy you can give to music and remain healthy. If you want to listen, there's an extensive library of records, and, of course, many concerts, some of them quite professional. All the good radio programs are broadcast over the system of loudspeakers that we call the Walden Network, and they're monitored to remove the advertising.

If you want to perform, you can get instruction on almost any instrument from other members-- who get labor credits for it. If you have any ability, you can soon find an audience. We all go to concerts. We're never too tired, and the night is never too cold or too wet. Think what this means for the young composer! Our composers are already entering new territory. That was inevitable. The accelerated tempo alone would have done it. And we aren't held back by commercial standardization. Our audiences grow with our composers. Naturally, we develop our own genre. It's the dawn-- a dawn at least of a Golden Age (voice trails off) (echos himself faintly) A Golden Age.

with greater excitement: Think of the effect on our children! Exposed to music in their very cribs-- a figure of speech, by the way, since we have replaced the crib with a much more efficient device...

Burris: But a Golden Age from a community of only one thousand! How many geniuses can you expect to get from such a limited assortment of genes?

Frasier: Is that a pun? Or do you really think tat geniuses come from genes? Well, maybe they do. But how close have we ever got to making the most of our genes? You can't possibly give me an answer, Burris, and you know it. There has been absolutely no way of answering it until now because it has never been possible to manipulate the environment in the required way.

Burris: What about musical families and musical centers? Don't they show that heredity was important?

Frasier: shouting But they were environments! No history won't give you the answer. History never sets up experiments the right way. You could draw the opposite conclusion from the same evidence. Where were the genes before the heyday of the center? How were they brought together? And where did they go when the glory passed?

And remember, we aren't specializing in music, either. I could tell you a similar story for painting and sculpture and half a dozen applied arts. Right conditions, that's all. Right conditions. All you need. Give them a chance, that's all. Leisure. Opportunity. Appreciation. suddenly laughs, in good spirits. With manic senselessness: Liberty! Equality! Fraternity!

SCENE - Degania

Frasier: This is Mrs. Nash.

Mrs. Nash: I hope Mr. Frasier has warned you that we're going to be rather impolite and give you only a glimpse of our babies. We try to protect them during the first year. It's especially important when they are cared for as a group.

Castle: What about the parents? Don't parents see their babies?

Mrs. Nash: Oh, yes, as long as they are in good health. Some parents work in the nursery. Others come around every day or so, at least for a few minutes. They take the baby out for some sunshine, or play with it in a playroom. smiles at Frasier That's the way we build up the baby's resistance.

Castle: What about mother love?

Frasier and Mrs. Nash look at each other and laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

Frasier: Are you speaking of mother love as an essence, Mr. Castle?

Castle: I am not! I'm speaking of a concrete thing. I mean the love which the mother gives her baby-- the affection--well, to be concrete, the kisses, the fondling, and so on, I'd suppose you'd say. confused and flushed You can't expect me to give you the physical dimensions of mother love! blackly It's real enough to the baby, I'll bet!

Frasier: quietly Very real. And we supply it in liberal doses. But we don't limit it to mothers. We go in for father love too--for everybody's love--community love, if you wish. Our children are treated with affection by everyone--and thoughful affection too, which isn't marred by fits of temper due to overwork or careless handling due to ignorance.

Castle: But the personal relation between the mother and child--Isn't there some sort of patterning? I thought the whole personality could be shaped in that way?

Frasier: You mean what the Freudian calls "identification", I think. I agree that it's important, and we use it very effectively in our educational system. But unless you're a strict Freudian, we're talking in the wrong room. Let's wait till we see another age group.

Castle: The cubicles you keep these babies in look like aquariums.

Mrs. Nash: And what precious fish they are.

Frazier. Each of us is engaged in a pitched battle with the rest of mankind.

Castle. A curious premise for a Utopia. Even a pessimist like myself takes a more hopeful view than that.

Frazier. You do, you do. But let's be realistic. Each of us has interests which conflict with the interests of everybody else. Now, "everybody else" we call "society." It's a powerful opponent, and it always wins. Oh, here and there an individual prevails for a while and gets what he wants. But society wins in the long run, for it has the advantage of numbers and of age. Society attacks early, when the individual is helpless. It enslaves him almost before he has tasted freedom. Many prevail against one, and men against a baby. Theology calls it building a conscience or developing a spirit of selflessness. Psychology calls it the growth of the super-ego.

Considering how long society has been at it, you'd expect a better job. But the campaigns have been badly planned and the victory has never been secure. The behavior of the individual has been shaped according to revelations of "good conduct," never as the result of experimental study. But why not experiment? The questions are simple enough. What's the best behavior for the individual so far as the group is concerned? And how can the individual be induced to behave in that way? Why not explore these questions in a scientific spirit?

We did just that in Walden Two. We had already worked out a code of conduct-- subject, of course to experimental modification. The code would keep things running smoothly if everybody lived up to it. Our job was to see that everybody did. Now, you can't get people to follow a useful code by making them into so many jacks-in-the-box. You can't foresee all future circumstances, and you can't specify adequate future conduct. Instead you have to set up certain behavioral processes which will lead the individual to design his own "good" conduct when the time comes. We call that sort of thing "self-control." But don't be misled, the control always rests in the last analysis in the hands of society.

Castle. I'm not sure I know what you are talking about.

Frazier. Then let me go on. We began by studying the great works on morals and ethics--Plato, Aristotle, Confucius, the New Testament, the Puritan divines, Machiavelli, Chesterfield, Freud.. . . We were looking for any and every method of shaping human behavior by imparting techniques of self-control. Some techniques were obvious enough, for they had marked turning points in human history. "Love your enemies" is an example.-- a psychological invention for easing the lot of an oppressed people. The severest trial of oppression is the constant rage which one suffers at the thought of the oppressor. What Jesus discovered was how to avoid these inner devastations. His technique was to practice the opposite emotion. If a man can succeed in "loving his enemies" and "taking no thought for the morrow," he will no longer be assailed by hatred of the oppressor or rage at the loss of his freedom or possessions. He may not get his freedom or possessions back, but he's less miserable. It's a difficult lesson. It comes late in our program.

Castle: I thought you were opposed to modifying emotions and instincts until the world was ready for it. According to you, the principle of "love your enemies" should have been suicidal.

Frasier: It would have been suicidal, except for an entirely unforseen consequence. Jesus must have been quite astonished at the effect of his discovery. We are only just beginning to understand the power of love-- because we are just beginning to understand the weakness of force and aggression. But the science of behavior is clear about all that now. Recent discoveries in the analysis of punishment are quite intriguing.

When we had collected our techniques of control, we had to discover how to teach them. That was more difficult.Promising paradise or threatening hell-fire is, we assumed, generally admitted to be unproductive. It is based upon a fundamental fraud which, when discovered, turns the individual against society and nourishes the very thing it tries to stamp out. What Jesus offered in return for loving one's enemies was heaven on earth, better known as piece of mind.

We found a few suggestions worth following in the practices of the clinical psychologist. We undertook to build a tolerance for annoying experiences. Society and nature throw these annoyances at the individual with no regard for the development of tolerances. Some achieve tolerance, most fail. Where would the science of immunization be if it followed a schedule of accidental dosages?

Take the principle of "Get thee behind me, Satan," for example. We give each child a lollipop which has been dipped in powdered sugar so that a single touch of the tongue can be detected. We tell him he may eat the lollipop later in the day, provided it hasn't already been licked. Since the child is only three or four, it is a fairly diff--

Castle. Three or four!

Frazier (quietly). All our ethical training is completed by the age of six. But at such an early age the problem of not licking the lollipop isn't easy. Now, what would you do, Mr. Castle, in a similar situation?

Castle. Put the lollipop out of sight as quickly as possible.

Frazier. Exactly. I can see you've been well trained. First of all, the children are urged to examine their own behavior while looking at the lollipops. This helps them to recognize the need for self-control. Then the lollipops are concealed, and the children are asked to notice any gain in happiness or any reduction in tension. Then a strong distraction is arranged--say, an interesting game. Later the children are reminded of the candy and encouraged to examine their reaction. The value of the distraction is generally obvious. Well, need I go on? When the experiment is repeated a day or so later, the children all run with their lollipops to their lockers and do exactly what Mr. Castle would do--a sufficient indication of the success of our training.

Castle (controlling his voice with great precision). I wish to report an objective observation of my reaction to your story. I find myself revolted by this display of sadistic tyranny.

Frazier. I don't wish to deny you the exercise of an emotion which you seem to find enjoyable. So let me go on. Concealing a tempting but forbidden object is a crude solution. We want a sort of psychological concealment--covering up the candy by paying no attention. In a later experiment the children wear their lollipops like crucifixes for a few hours.

Rogers (with a glance at Barbara). I wish someone had taught me that.

Frazier. Don't we all? Some of us learn control, more or less by accident. The rest of us go all our lives not even understanding how it is possible.

Burris. How do you build up a tolerance to an annoying situation?

Frazier. Oh, for example, by having the children "take" a more and more painful shock, or drink cocoa with less and less sugar in it until a bitter concoction can be savored without a bitter face. (Glancing uneasily at Castle) That also strikes you as a form of torture, Mr. Castle?

Castle. I'd rather be put on the rack.

Frazier. Then you have by no means had the thorough training I supposed. You can't imagine how lightly the children take such an experience.

Burris (hurriedly). Are your techniques really so very new? What about the primitive practice of submitting a boy to various tortures before granting him a place among adults? What about the disciplinary techniques of Puritanism? Or of the modern school, for that matter?

Frazier. In one sense you're right. And I think you've nicely answered Mr. Castle's tender concern for our little ones. The unhappinesses we deliberately impose are far milder than the normal unhappinesses from which we offer protection. But there's a world of difference in the way we use these annoyances. For one thing, we don't punish. We never administer an unpleasantness in the hope of repressing or eliminating undesirable behavior. But there's another difference. The English public school of the nineteenth century produced brave men--by setting up almost insurmountable barriers and making the most of the few who came over. But selection isn't education. Its crops of brave men will always be small, and the waste enormous. In Walden Two we have a different objective. We make every man a brave man. They all come over the barriers. Some require more preparation than others, but they all come over. The traditional use of adversity is to select the strong. We control adversity to build strength.

The living quarters and daily schedules of the older children furnish a particularly good example of behavioral engineering. The children pass smoothly from one age group to another, following a natural process of growth and avoiding the abrupt changes of the home-and-school system. The arrangements are such that each child emulates children slightly older than himself and hence derives motives and patterns for much of his early education without aid. The control of the physical and social environment is progressively relaxed-- or to be more exact, the control is transferred from the authorities to the child himself and to other members of his group. After spending most of the first year in an air-conditioned cubicle, and the second and third mainly in an air-conditioned room with a minimum of clothing and bedding, the three or four year-old is introduced to regular clothes and given the care of a small standard cot in a dormitory. The beds of the five and six year-olds are grouped by threes and fours in a series of alcoves furnished like rooms and treated as such by the children. Groups of three or four seven-year-olds occupied small rooms together, and this practice is continued, with frequent changes in roomates, until the children are about thirteen, at which time they take temporary rooms in the adult building, usually in pairs. At marriage, or whenever the individual chooses, he can participate in building a larger room for himself or refurnishing an old room which might be available.

The ordinary teacher spends a good share of her time changing the cultural and intellectual habits which the child acquires from its family and surrounding culture. Here we can almost say that the school is the family, and vice versa.

We don't require all our children to develop the same abilities or skills. We don't insist upon a certain set of courses. I don't suppose we have a single child who has had a "secondary school education," whatever that means. But they've all developed as rapidly as advisable, and they're well educated in many useful respects.

Since our children remain happy, energetic, and curious, we don't need to teach "subjects" at all. We teach only the techniques of learning and thinking. As for geography, literature, the sciences--we give our children opportunity, and they learn them for themselves. Our children aren't neglected, but they're seldom, if ever, taught anything.

Education in Walden Two is part of the life of the community. We don't need to resort to trumped-up life experiences. Our children begin to work at a very early age. It's no hardship; it's accepted as readily as sport or play. And a good share of our education goes on in workshops, laboratories, and fields. It's part of the Walden Two Code to encourage children in all the arts and crafts. We're glad to spend time in instructing them, for we know it's important for the future of Walden Two and our own security.

Our laboratories are good because they are real. Our workshops are really small engineering laboratories, and anyone with a genuine bent can go farther in them than the college student. We teach anatomy in the slaughterhouse, botany in the field, genetics in the dairy and poultry house, chemistry in the medical building and in the kitchen and dairy laboratory. What more can you ask?

(They stop to watch a boy and girl playing with a baby on a blanket, then resume walking.)

Frazier (casually). Their first child.

Burris. Good heavens! Do you mean to say those children are the parents of that baby?

Frazier. Why, of course. And a very fine baby it is, too.

Burris. But they can't be more than sixteen or seventeen years old!

Frazier. Probably not.

Burris. But isn't that rather remarkable? It's not the usual thing, I hope. (His voice trails off doubtfully.)

Frazier. It's not at all unusual with us. The average age of the Walden Two mother is eighteen at the birth of her first child, and we hope to bring that figure down still further.

Barbara. But why do you encourage that?

Frazier. No doubt the thought of a girl getting married a year or two after she is ready for childbearing strikes you as something characteristic of primitive cultures or, worse still, backward communities in our own country. Early marriages are regarded as inadvisable. The figures show they tend to be less successful in the long run, and they are often plainly impossible from an economic point of view. I need scarcely point out, however, that there's no economic obstacle to marriage at any age in Walden Two. The young couple will live quite as well whether married or unmarried. Children are cared for in the same way regardless of the age, experience, or earning power of their parents.

The boy and girl are ready for love. They will never have the same capacity for love again. And they are ready for marriage and childbearing. Adolescence is seldom pleasant to remember, it's full of unnecessary problems, unnecessary delays. It should be brief and painless, and we make it so in Walden Two.

Barbara. Do girls have babies as easily when they are so young, though?

Frazier (flatly). Easier.

Barbara. How long does she go on having babies?

Frazier. As long as she likes, but generally no longer than usual. If she wants four children, say, she will be finished with childbearing by the time she's twenty-two or -three. Her adult life opens up to her with many interesting prospects. She has made the special contribution which is either the duty or the privilege of woman, and can take her place without distinction of sex. You may have noticed the complete equality of men and women among us. There are scarcely any types of work which are not shared equally.

Burris. A "generation" in Walden Two must mean about twenty years!

Frazier (laughing at his astonishment). Instead of the usual thirty. We don't sacrifice our women to a policy of maximal childbearing, but we equal or exceed their rate of propagation, by the simple expedient of getting three generations for two.

Burris (in growing amazement). And a man can be a grandfather at thirty-five.

Frazier. One of us may have as many great-grandchildren as one usually has grandchildren at the same age--with fewer children per couple. And that should be a sufficient answer to the charge that we have somehow interfered with the joy of family or family ties.

Barbara. But isn't there one trouble? Do young people really know what kind of person they want to live with for the rest of their lives?

Frazier. They seem to think so.

Barbara. But young people grow apart.

Frazier. Is that really true?

Barbara. The figures show that early marriages tend to be unhappy.

Frazier. Because husband and wife grow apart, or because our economic system penalizes early marriage?

Barbara. I don't know.

Frazier. Economic hardships could make people grow apart.

Barbara. All I know is, the boys I fell for when I was younger wouldn't interest me now. I can't imagine what I saw in them.

Frazier. I wonder if that wouldn't be true at any age. We grow apart when we live apart.

Castle. I think there may be something in what Miss Macklin says. We are less likely to have fallen into our final life pattern at that age. We're still trying to find ourselves.

Frazier. Very well, then. Let that point stand--though I can't see that it makes any difference, since people in Walden Two never stop changing. But at least we can offer some compensating advantages. We can be sure that husband and wife will come from the same economic level, from the same culture, and have the same sort of education. What do the figures show about that?

Barbara (trying to think). As I remember it, those things are important, too.

Frazier. Then we are even. Our boys and girls know each other very well, too. There are no hasty marriages among us. When a young couple become engaged, they go to our Manager of Marriages. Their interests, school records, and health are examined. If there's any great discrepancy in intellectual ability or temperament they are advised against marrying. The marriage is at least postponed, and that usually means it's abandoned.

Burris. As easy as all that?

Frazier. Usually so. The opportunities for other associations are a great help, just as in the case of personal jealousy.

Burris. I wonder why your disclosure has been so disconcerting. Marriage at sixteen or seventeen was not at all uncommon in other times and other cultures. Yet in a way it strikes me as the most radical feature of life at Walden Two.

Barbara. I don't think I'd like it.

(Frazier gives her a cold glance.)

Burris. I'm afraid the birth control people aren't going to thank you for your early marriages.

Frazier. It's no solution of the problem to lower the birth rate of those who understand it. On the contrary, we need to expand the culture which recognizes the need for birth control. If you argue that we should set an example, you must prove to me that we shall not all be extinguished before the example is followed. No, our genetic program is a vital one. We don't worry about the birth rate, or its consequences.

Burris. Are you conducting any genetic experiments?

Frazier. No. We discourage childbearing by the unfit, of course, but that's all. Later, perhaps, something can be done. The weakening of the family structure will make experimental breeding possible. (He smiles quietly.)

Castle (explosively). I have been waiting for that one! What about the "weakening of the family structure," Mr. Frazier?

Frazier. Well, a great deal happens to the family in Walden Two, Mr. Castle, I can tell you that. The family is an ancient form of community, and the customs and habits which have been set up to perpetuate it are out of place in a society which isn't based on blood ties. Walden Two replaces the family, not only as an economic unit, but to some extent as a social and psychological unit as well. What survives is an experimental question.

Castle. What answer have you reached?

Frazier. No definite answer yet. But I can describe some of the family practices which were part of the plan of Walden Two and tell you the consequences to date.

Castle. Such as?

Frazier. Oh, the advisability of separate rooms for husband and wife, for example. We don't insist on it, but in the long run there's a more satisfactory relation when a single room isn't shared. Many of our visitors suppose that a community means a sacrifice of privacy. On the contrary, we've carefully provided for much more personal privacy than is likely to be found in the world at large. You may be alone here whenever you wish. A man's room is his castle. And a woman's, too.

Castle. But aren't you leaving the door wide open to promiscuity?

Frazier. On the contrary, we are perpetuating loyalty and affection. We can be sure that any continuing affection is genuine, and not the result of a police system. The simple fact is, there's no more promiscuity in Walden Two than in society at large. There's probably less. For one thing, we encourage simple friendship between the sexes. We don't practice "free love," but we have a great deal of "free affection."

I don't mean that no one in Walden Two has fallen in love "illicitly," but I'm sure there has been a minimum of mere sex without love. We don't regard extramarital love as wholly justifiable or without its difficulties. The problem of the deserted mate always remains. But we've done all we can to avoid unhappiness. It's part of the Walden Two Code to avoid gossip about personal ties, and a slight disturbance often works itself out quietly. Our vastly extended opportunities for affection also help. No one really feels very much deserted.

It will be hard for you to understand how simple this is, because you can't quite appreciate our triumph over emotions like jealousy or wounded pride. Here the whole community works toward making a personal readjustment as easy as possible, instead of converting into stock for the scandalmonger.

Burris. What about the children? The group care we saw this morning must also weaken the relation between parent and child.

Frazier. It does. By design. Group care is better than parental care. In the old pre-scientific days the early education of the child could be left to the parents. But with the rise of a science of behavior all is changed. The control of behavior is an intricate science, into which the average mother could not be initiated without years of training. Even when the mother knows the right thing to do, she often can't do it in a household which is busy with other affairs. Home is not the place to raise children.

Our goal is to have every adult member of Walden Two regard all our children as his own, and to have every child think of every adult as his parent. To this end we have made it bad taste to single out one's own child for special favors. Think what this means to the child who has no mother or father! And this what it means, too, for the childless!

Burris. Don't many parents resent sharing their children?

Frazier. Why should they? Many parents are glad to be relieved of the awful responsibility of being a child's only source of affection and help. Here it's impossible to be an inadequate or unskilled parent. The weakening of the relation between parent and child is valuable in other ways. When divorce cannot be avoided, the children are not embarrassed by severe changes in their way of life or their behavior toward their parents. It's also easy to induce the unfit or unwell to forego parenthood. No stigma attaches to being childless, and no lack of affection. That's what I meant when I said that experiments in selective breeding would eventually be possible in Walden Two. The hereditary connection will be minimized to the point of being forgotten. Long before that, it will be possible to breed through artificial insemination without altering the personal relation of husband and wife. Our people will marry as they wish, but have children according to a genetic plan.

Castle. It seems to me that you're flying in the face of strong natural forces, just the same.

Frazier. What would you have said if I had proposed killing unwanted female babies? Yet that practice is condoned in some cultures. What do we really know about the nature of the parental relation? Anything? I doubt it.

Burris. What happens to "identification"? Have you any substitute for the parent as a pattern for the child?

Frazier. Our children are cared for by many different people. It isn't institutional care, but genuine affection. What the child imitates is a sort of essential happy adult. He can avoid the idiosyncrasies of a single parent.

Burris. But as the child grows older, doesn't he naturally single out particular individuals as objects of interest and affection?

Frazier. That's exactly what we intend. It may happen because of common interests: the artistically inclined will naturally be attracted to artists, the potential farmer will like to hang around the dairy. Or it may arise from a similarity of character or personality.

Castle. Don't these attenuated personal ties lead to feelings of insecurity?

Frazier. Who is insecure? And about what? Not our children, certainly. They have every chance in the world of getting affection and help from hundreds of adults. We have increased the feeling of security of our children.

Castle. I was thinking more of the women, the wives and mothers. Don't they feel that they are less necessary to their families?

Frazier. Of course they do, and they ought to. You are talking about a tradition of slavery, and of the sentiments which have preserved it for thousands of years. The good wife is told to consider it an honor and a privilege to work in the kitchen, to make the beds every day, to watch the children. She is made to believe that she is necessary. But the intelligent woman sees through it at once, no matter how hard she wants to believe. She knows very well that someone else could make the beds and get the meals and wash the clothes, and her family wouldn't know the difference.

Here, there's no reason to feel that anyone is necessary to anyone else. Each of us is necessary in the same amount, which is very little. The community would go on just as smoothly tomorrow if any one of us died tonight. We cannot, therefore, get much satisfaction out of feeling important. But there are compensating satisfactions. Each of us is necessary as a person to the extent that he is loved as a person. By providing good care for everyone as a matter of course, we emphasize the personal need.

In a world of complete economic equality, you get and keep the affections you deserve. You can't buy love with gifts or favors, you can't hold love by raising an inadequate child, and you can't be secure in love by serving as a good scrub woman or a good provider.

SCENE- Firewood

(Rogers, Steve, and Burris are moving a pile of firewood. Rogers and Burris take a break.)

Burris. Well, what do you think of it all?

Rogers (with effort). It's everything Steve and I used to dream about, sir. And more.

Burris. Quite remarkable, isn't it?

Rogers. And Mr. Frazier--the first real genius I've ever known.

Burris. Brilliant chap, all right. And he has been clever enough to get excellent people to help him. The whole managerial staff seems very capable. Frazier would be the first to admit their contribution.

Rogers. But he's a genius, just the same. To plan such a thing all by himself.

Burris. I don't believe he would claim that. There were other Planners.

Rogers. But the main idea--that was his, wasn't it?

Burris. Perhaps it was. But many of the details had already been worked out. Some had even been tried.

Rogers. Well, I don't know how it was, and I don't care. But look at the way he has made it work! Why, these people are happy! All of them! And they aren't depending on anybody else, either. Oh, there're so damned many wonderful things about it that nobody has even mentioned! (Shakes his head slowly) How could anybody want a better life, sir? Why doesn't everybody just go and do the same thing?

Burris. It isn't a life that would satisfy everybody. Not by any means. I'm fairly sure Frazier can keep his second generation in line, but a lot of people haven't had the right history.

Rogers. I know.

(They are silent for a moment.)

Rogers. Some people don't even see why anybody would want to do this. They don't see the point. (He looks at Burris, who says nothing.) They don't seem to realize how almost any other kind of life means unhappiness for somebody somewhere. Just so long as they're happy, they don't care. They don't seem to see the trouble coming. (Appealing to Burris desperately) What would you say to somebody who felt that way, sir?

Burris. I'm afraid just saying something wouldn't do much good. It's a long, slow process--giving anyone a social conscience. It's hard to see our own life in relation to the whole world. We learn about the two things in different ways.

Rogers. I ought to know that. I was one of the happy ones myself a few years ago. I was in line for a pretty satisfactory life, and it wasn't far off, either. A home, a good-looking wife, kids maybe, a car, more money than most people. That's not a bad life.

Burris. Not a bad life at all.

(They begin to stack logs again.)

Rogers. And I didn't think I was imposing on anybody, either. I always paid for what I got, and everybody treated me in a friendly way. I was the sort of fellow most people liked, I guess.

Burris. What made you see through it? Two or three years in the Pacific?

Rogers. Right, sir! It made me see through that and a lot of other things, too. (He throws a particularly heavy log into place with a crash.)

Burris. Well, I'd call myself lucky, then. You're still young, and you can do something about it. About your own life, and maybe the other fellow's too.

Rogers. The trouble is, not everybody has been through the same thing. A lot of people still don't see the way things are. The old life seems all right. They really aren't hurting anybody, at least anybody they know. And it doesn't seem to matter to them whether it's a kind of life that can go on very much longer.

Burris. I take it one of "them" is--

Rogers. Barbara. Yes.

Burris. Walden Two isn't for her?

Rogers. God, no! She "loathes" it! Can't see any reason for being so--queer. It's funny, sir. She's an intelligent girl, too, I think. I used to think so, anyway. But she's so blind about some things. You called it a social conscience. Well, she hasn't got any.

Burris. She might get one in time. Have you talked with her about it?

Rogers. Not much. But it's--hopeless. For instance, she doesn't see why a man as bright as Mr. Frazier didn't just go out and earn a lot of money and buy the kind of life he wanted, all by himself.

Burris. She does rather miss the point, doesn't she?

Rogers. It just isn't her line. She wants a home and children. And a maid, of course. She wants to entertain her friends. And have a car.

Burris. How about you?

Rogers. If I had only myself to think about, I'd never leave. I don't know what my father would say. He'd be on Barbara's side, at first. But after all, he wouldn't have to come here with me, and I'm not so sure he wouldn't have a pretty good idea why I might want to try it. A few things he's said since I came back--

Burris. So it's up to Barbara, then?

Rogers. Oh, I don't know. It's hard to decide. She's changed a lot.

Burris. I think you've done the changing, Rodge.

Rogers. Of course that's right, sir, but it comes to the same thing: we don't agree. And I don't think it would be fair to hold out for my side of the argument. After all, I could adjust to her kind of life well enough.

Burris. Do you think you could? Or isn't it too late?

Rogers. I don't know, sir, I really don't. I don't know what it's all about, to tell you the truth. I've never been in a spot like this, not even in the service. What's the matter with me anyway? What would a psychologist say?

Burris. I can tell you, but you may not want to hear it.

Rogers. Go ahead. I can take it.

Burris. It's none of my business, but I think you're having lollipop trouble.

SCENE- dinner (ZK)

(At dinner.)

Burris. But how do you explain the invariable failure of communities in the past?

Frazier (with exaggerated control). I find it difficult to answer a question of that sort with equanimity. Why should I be asked to explain it?

Burris. It's commonly supposed that a man profits from experience. I should think the failure of similar attempts in the past would have some bearing upon Walden Two.

Frazier. Similar! Similar! The song the sirens sing to all historians. What do we really know about it? How similar? How similar?

Burris. Oh, come, come. I think you can make out a fair case for a considerable similarity. A group of people decide to live cooperatively and independently of the outside world--

Frazier (with pure contempt). And on the strength of that, you predict the failure of Walden Two.

Burris. Well, no, not on the strength of that alone. And I don't predict failure. But we know something about the living conditions in these old communities, their customs--

Frazier. We know that they ate and drank and performed the other alimentary functions, worked a good deal, believed in God--most of them--had children--some of them--made money or didn't, and disbanded. We know what their buildings looked like to second-rate artists, and what they wrote about themselves when literate.

Castle. You amaze me, Mr. Frazier. I expected you to have the greatest respect for these pioneers in community living.

Frazier. I have the greatest respect for them, as I believe them to have been. But I know nothing about them, really, except for their literary remains, and most of them were rather uncommunicative souls. What I am perhaps not altogether unemotional about is the assumption that the historical account has the status of a body of facts, from which we can make predictions about the success of a contemporary venture.

Burris (faintly). You admit the relevancy of their writing.

Frazier. I do. And also that most of the communities are no longer in existence. But prediction in the field of the social sciences is very doubtful even when we know what we are talking about, and we know scarcely anything about the actual conditions in these so-called experiments. Most of them were economically successful. Some of them broke up because the members couldn't resist the temptation to divide the loot, and a few still survive. But the crucial thing is the psychological management, and of this we know very little. A few facts, yes, but an adequate picture, no.

Burris. It seems to me they conducted some fairly important psychological experiments.

Frazier. But we really don't know what was done and, hence, why they failed. On the other hand, we do know why the right thing was probably not done. The cultural pattern was usually a matter of revealed truth and not open to experimental modification--except when conspicuously unsuccessful. The community wasn't set up as a real experiment, but to put certain principles into practice. Generally the plan was to get away from government and to allow the natural virtue of man to assert itself. What more can you ask for as an explanation of failure?

Burris (laughing). Well, you might have said that in the first place!

Frazier (not laughing). Perhaps I misunderstood you. But at any rate we have got started on the crucial point in the whole venture. We ought to make ourselves more comfortable.

(They leave the dining room and go up to the roof, where they sit on deck chairs to watch the sunset.)

Frazier. Have you ever taught a course in ethics, Mr. Castle?

Castle (in his most precise manner). I have taught a course in ethics every year for thirteen years.

Frazier. Then you can tell us what the Good Life consists of.

Castle. Oh, no, I can't, not by any means. You are thirteen years too late.

Frazier (delighted). Then let me tell you.

Castle (jovially). By all means. But I must inform you that everything you say will be taken down and may be used against you. I've been waiting for this. Unless you can show me what the Good Life consists of, and that you can achieve it in Walden Two, I shall tell you to take your power looms and your food lockers and your glass trays and I'll go back to the Square Deal Pants Store and the Hamburgteria.

Frazier. Of course, I know nothing about your course in ethics, but the philosopher in search of a rational basis for deciding what is good has always reminded me of the centipede trying to decide how to walk. Simply go ahead and walk! We all know what's good, until we stop to think about it. For example, is there any doubt that health is better than sickness?

Castle. There might be a time when a man would choose ill-health or death, even. And we might applaud his decision.

Frazier. Yes, but you're moving the wrong foot. Try the one on the opposite side. Other things being equal, we choose health. Secondly, can anyone doubt that an absolute minimum of unpleasant labor is part of the good life?

(He turns to Castle, but is greeted with a sullen silence.)

Burris. That's the millionaire's idea, anyway.

Frazier. I mean the minimum which is possible without imposing on anyone. We must always think of the whole group. I don't mean that we want to be inactive. But painful or uninteresting work is a threat to both physical and psychological health. Our plan was to reduce unwanted work to a minimum, but we wiped it out. Even hard work is fun if it's not beyond our strength and we don't have too much of it. When we're not being imposed on, when we choose our work freely, then we want to work. Can you believe that we don't need to keep an accurate account of each man's contribution? Or that most of us have stored up enough spare credits to take a long vacation if we liked? But let me go on.

The Good Life also means a chance to exercise talents and abilities. And we have let it be so. We have time for sports, hobbies, arts and crafts, and most important of all, the expression of that interest in the world which is science in the deepest sense.

And we need intimate and satisfying personal contacts. Our Social Manager sees to that with many ingenious devices. And we don't restrict personal relations to conform to outmoded customs. We discourage attitudes of domination and criticism. Our goal is a general tolerance and affection.

Last of all, the Good Life means relaxation and rest. We get that in Walden Two almost as a matter of course, but not merely because we have reduced our hours of work. In the world at large the leisure class is perhaps the least relaxed. The important thing is to satisfy our needs. Then we can give up the blind struggle to "have a good time" or "get what we want." We have achieved a true leisure.

I can't give you a rational justification for any of it. I can't reduce it to any principle of "the greatest good." This is the Good Life. We know it. It's a fact, not a theory. It has an experimental justification, not a rational one. (To Castle, who is staring into the distance) Don't you agree, Professor?

Castle. I don't think you and I are interested in the same thing.

Frazier (disappointed). Well, that's what we are interested in, and I think we've turned the trick. Things are going well, at least.

Castle. That's all very fine as a program. But here's the crux of the whole question of community life: how can you put such a program into effect?

Frazier. We have certain rules of conduct, the Walden Code, which are changed from time to time as experience suggests. Some of these, like the Ten Commandments, are rather fundamental, but many may seem trivial. Each member agrees to abide by the Code when he accepts membership. That's what he gives in return for his constitutional guarantee of a share in the wealth and life of the community. The Code acts as a memory aid until good behavior becomes habitual.

Burris. Can you give us an example of a trivial rule?

Frazier. Let's see. One is: "Don't talk to outsiders about the affairs of the community." Planners are exempt, and others are allowed to violate the rule in certain cases. (Turning to Steve and Mary) What did you find out about us at the dance last night?

Steve. Not a thing. We noticed that.

Frazier. You can see why we have the rule. Our Manager of Public Relations would have a bad time of it if visitors were misled by remarks which might be misinterpreted. Another rule is: "Explain your work to any member who is interested." That's the "Apprenticeship Rule." It makes for a much more informed and capable membership, as well as a fairer assignment of credit values to various kinds of work. Another is: "Don't gossip about the personal relations of members." It was hard to put that into practice, but I think we've really done it.

The Code even descends to the level of the social graces. We've tried a number of experiments to expedite and improve personal relations. For example, we don't wait to be introduced before speaking to a stranger, nor do we bother to make introductions if no relevant information is to be communicated. A similar rule permits the ready expression of boredom. It's perfectly good form among us to say, "You've told me that before," or "I'm fairly well acquainted with that subject," or "That's something which I don't find very interesting." The result is, we spare ourselves many an hour of boredom. If you stop to recall that a community multiplies social contacts many fold, you'll appreciate the value of the rule.

Burris. The speaker doesn't take offense?

Frazier. Not when the practice is fully accepted as part of the culture. It's just a matter of getting used to it.

Burris. But why do you all continue to observe the Code? Isn't there a natural drift away from it? Or simple disagreement?

Frazier. As to disagreement, anyone may examine the evidence upon which a rule was introduced into the Code. He may argue against its inclusion and may present his own evidence. If the Managers refuse to change the rule, he may appeal to the Planners. But in no case must he argue about the Code with the members at large. There's a rule against that.

Castle. I would certainly argue against the inclusion of that rule. Simple democracy requires public discussion of so fundamental a matter as a code.

Frazier (casually). You won't find very much "simple democracy" here. As to any drifting away from the code, that's prevented by the very techniques which the Managers use to gain observance in the first place. The rules are frequently brought to the attention of the members. Groups of rules are discussed from time to time in our weekly meetings. The advantages for the community are pointed out and specific applications are described. In some cases simple rules are appropriately posted.

Castle (shifts in his chair and makes several rustling noises before speaking). I am not satisfied with your Good Life.

Frazier. You're not?

Castle. No. There's something lacking.

Frazier. Not the greatest good for the greatest number?

Castle. No. Something necessary to keep your exceptional people exceptional. What you lack, compared with the world at large, is the opportunity to make long-term plans. The mere joy in running a race, or painting a picture, or weaving a rug, isn't enough. Your good man must be working on a theory or a new style or an improved technique.

Frazier. But don't think we all live from day to day! I can see why you might, because you have seen only our day-to-day life. We may seem to have some abiding preoccupation with the momentary enjoyment of happiness. That's by no means the case. But let me clear up another point first. The majority of people don't want to plan. They want to be free of the responsibility of planning. What they ask is merely some assurance that they will be decently provided for. People of that sort are completely happy here. And they pay their way. They are the backbone of a community--solid, trustworthy, essential. But what about the highly intelligent few who must have distant and magnificent goals? In what sense would we interfere with their dreams?

Castle. What about the boy who wants to make a name for himself in some business? Let's say he has discovered some new process and wants to set up an industry.

Frazier. What does "making a name for himself" mean? Do you mean making a fortune? We have no need for fortunes, and until you can show me how a fortune can be made without making a few paupers in the bargain, it's one goal we're glad to do without.

Castle. I suppose I was thinking more of fame than fortune.

Frazier. Fame is also won at the expense of others. When one man gets a place in the sun, others are put in a denser shade. From the point of view of the whole group there's no gain whatever, and perhaps a loss.

Burris. But is there anything wrong with admiring exceptional achievements, or being pleased to receive recognition?

Frazier (flatly). Yes. If it points up the unexceptional achievements of others, it's wrong. We are opposed to personal competition. We don't encourage competitive games, for example, with the exception of tennis or chess, where the exercise of a skill is as important as the outcome of the game; and we never have tournaments, even so. We never mark any member for special approbation. There must be some other source of satisfaction in one's work or play.

Castle. But do you exclude simple personal gratitude? Suppose one of your doctors worked out a system of sanitation or medication so that none of you ever had colds. Wouldn't you want to honor him and wouldn't he want to be honored?

Frazier. We don't need to talk about hypothetical cases. Our people are constantly making contributions to the health, leisure, happiness, comfort, and amusement of the community. But to single anyone out for citation would be to neglect all the others.

Castle. So you have just stopped being grateful.

Frazier. On the contrary, we're all extraordinarily grateful. We overflow with gratitude--but to no one in particular. We feel a sort of generalized gratitude toward the whole community.

Burris. How is your generalized gratitude expressed?

Frazier. Well, what's gratitude, anyway? Isn't it a willingness to do return favors? There isn't one of us who wouldn't willingly enter upon the most difficult assignment if the need arose. We're ready to do something for all in return for what we've received from all.

The deliber