Indeed, Sonya and I were simply grateful for the tidy behaviour that was expected of the raft-dwellers ; whatever “new view of social relationships” Arthur had adopted did not seem to include rape. I left the table obediently, and went into the bathroom.
Arthur followed me. “I wanted a word with you, Mr. Clarke,” he said. “As a new arrival, you are not yet used to our ways here, and, if you wish to stay, I am afraid you will have to adapt yourself to them.”
“Of course,” I said.
“I don’t know whether you have come to any explanation in your mind about this Flood?”
“God?”
Arthur smiled tolerantly. “So Mr. Otterdale would tell you,” he said, “and Mr. Banner would say the whole thing is due to a fine dust of silver oxide, which has somehow penetrated the earth’s atmosphere from outer space. As an agnostic, I am not interested in supernatural explanations, Mr. Clarke. But one thing is certain. Whether the Flood is intended as a Divine Punishment or not, it is the best thing that could ever have happened.”
“What?”
“I do a lot of reading in my spare time,” said Arthur. “I have never believed that time should be squandered; a man who is not interested in improving himself is not worth the gift of reason, in my view.”
“I gather who-is-it—Tony?—agrees with you.”
“Mr. Ryle, he tells me, is a body-builder; that is tosay, he is a narcissist of a rather stupid kind. He is not interested in
mental
discipline, Mr. Clarke. I myself, on the other hand, have been practising the strictest mental disciplines ever since I was a boy. I do a great deal of reading. If I had not done so, I should not be in command here.”
“No.”
“And if I were not in command, it is doubtful whether any of you would survive.”
“You think we shall then?”
“Of course. Why else have I already set the crew to work making nets, caulking water barrels, improvising rough furniture from the empty crates in the hold? All these things will be useful to us when we land. I have it all arranged, Mr. Clarke. Natural Selection is responsible for the Flood, and by Natural Selection certain people will survive it. I shall be one of them, and so, if you are careful to follow my orders, will you.”
“And all of us here?”
“Naturally.”
“Just why, do you think, did Natural Selection——?”
“I can see that you are not a serious student of human affairs, Mr. Clarke.”
“So much of my life has been spent in the kitchen,” I said.
“Perhaps. Then let me use a kitchen metaphor to explain matters to you. Have you noticed what happens when you have too much of any foodstuff, Mr. Clarke? —too much meat? too many loaves of bread? too many bottles of milk? too many tomatoes? They gobad, and spoil. That is what has happened to the human race. Recently there have been too many people in the world, and they have been increasing at an increasing rate. Did you know, for instance, that the population of Ceylon was increasing at a rate of about 3 per cent a year—by three out of every hundred in the first year, 3.09 out of every hundred the next—the whole process had an accelerator built in. In three generations or so, we should have used up the natural resources of the earth, and reverted to a state of the most appalling barbarism. I tell you, Mr. Clarke, if it had not been for this Flood, there would have been disaster before very long.”
“You mean we’ve been saved from race-suicide by an act of—well, Nature if you like?” I said.
“Nothing of the kind. If you wish to understand what I am saying, you will do better not to interrupt. Not only were men increasing their numbers at a terrifying rate, but the poorer, more brutish sort were increasing at a rate faster than the others. Have you any idea of the rate of mental deficiency in Great Britain over the past fifty years? No, of course you haven’t. The proportion of morons and near-morons has increased because, although one can
Arthur followed me. “I wanted a word with you, Mr. Clarke,” he said. “As a new arrival, you are not yet used to our ways here, and, if you wish to stay, I am afraid you will have to adapt yourself to them.”
“Of course,” I said.
“I don’t know whether you have come to any explanation in your mind about this Flood?”
“God?”
Arthur smiled tolerantly. “So Mr. Otterdale would tell you,” he said, “and Mr. Banner would say the whole thing is due to a fine dust of silver oxide, which has somehow penetrated the earth’s atmosphere from outer space. As an agnostic, I am not interested in supernatural explanations, Mr. Clarke. But one thing is certain. Whether the Flood is intended as a Divine Punishment or not, it is the best thing that could ever have happened.”
“What?”
“I do a lot of reading in my spare time,” said Arthur. “I have never believed that time should be squandered; a man who is not interested in improving himself is not worth the gift of reason, in my view.”
“I gather who-is-it—Tony?—agrees with you.”
“Mr. Ryle, he tells me, is a body-builder; that is tosay, he is a narcissist of a rather stupid kind. He is not interested in
mental
discipline, Mr. Clarke. I myself, on the other hand, have been practising the strictest mental disciplines ever since I was a boy. I do a great deal of reading. If I had not done so, I should not be in command here.”
“No.”
“And if I were not in command, it is doubtful whether any of you would survive.”
“You think we shall then?”
“Of course. Why else have I already set the crew to work making nets, caulking water barrels, improvising rough furniture from the empty crates in the hold? All these things will be useful to us when we land. I have it all arranged, Mr. Clarke. Natural Selection is responsible for the Flood, and by Natural Selection certain people will survive it. I shall be one of them, and so, if you are careful to follow my orders, will you.”
“And all of us here?”
“Naturally.”
“Just why, do you think, did Natural Selection——?”
“I can see that you are not a serious student of human affairs, Mr. Clarke.”
“So much of my life has been spent in the kitchen,” I said.
“Perhaps. Then let me use a kitchen metaphor to explain matters to you. Have you noticed what happens when you have too much of any foodstuff, Mr. Clarke? —too much meat? too many loaves of bread? too many bottles of milk? too many tomatoes? They gobad, and spoil. That is what has happened to the human race. Recently there have been too many people in the world, and they have been increasing at an increasing rate. Did you know, for instance, that the population of Ceylon was increasing at a rate of about 3 per cent a year—by three out of every hundred in the first year, 3.09 out of every hundred the next—the whole process had an accelerator built in. In three generations or so, we should have used up the natural resources of the earth, and reverted to a state of the most appalling barbarism. I tell you, Mr. Clarke, if it had not been for this Flood, there would have been disaster before very long.”
“You mean we’ve been saved from race-suicide by an act of—well, Nature if you like?” I said.
“Nothing of the kind. If you wish to understand what I am saying, you will do better not to interrupt. Not only were men increasing their numbers at a terrifying rate, but the poorer, more brutish sort were increasing at a rate faster than the others. Have you any idea of the rate of mental deficiency in Great Britain over the past fifty years? No, of course you haven’t. The proportion of morons and near-morons has increased because, although one can
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