“Violent Passion Surrogate. Regularly once a month. We flood the
whole system with adrenin. It’s the complete physiological
equivalent of fear and rage. All the tonic effects of murdering
Desdemona and being murdered by Othello, without any of the
inconveniences.”
“But I like the inconveniences.”
“We don’t,” said the Controller. “We prefer to do things comfortably.”
“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want
poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom,
I want goodness. I want sin.”
“In fact,” said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming
the right to be unhappy.”
“All right then,” said the Savage defiantly,
“I’m claiming the right to be unhappy.”
“Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the
right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat;
the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of
what may happen to- morrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right
to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind.”
There was a long silence.
“I claim them all,” said the Savage at last.
Mustapha Mond shrugged his shoulders. “You’re welcome,” he said.
[Excerpt from Aldous Huxley's Brave New World]
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O livro é genial, e não é pouco. Peço desculpa aos que nunca leram, mas aqueles diálogos finais são de outro mundo...
