Yes, awfully.
And although their beds tried very bard, the two adults couldnt be rocked to sleep for another hour. A smell of cats was in the night air.
Father? said Peter.
Yes.
Peter looked at his shoes. He never looked at his father any more, nor at his mother. You arent going to lock up the nursery for good, are you?
That all depends.
On what? snapped Peter.
On you and your sister. If you intersperse this Africa with a little variety oh, Sweden perhaps, or Denmark or China
I thought we were free to play as we wished.
You are, within reasonable bounds.
Whats wrong with Africa, Father?
Oh, so now you admit you have been conjuring up Africa, do you?
I wouldnt want the nursery locked up, said Peter coldly. Ever.
Matter of fact, were thinking of turning the whole house off for about a month. Live sort of a carefree one-for-all existence.
That sounds dreadful! Would I have to tie my own shoes instead of letting the shoe tier do it? And brush my own teeth and comb my hair and give myself a bath?
It would be fun for a change, dont you think?
No, it would be horrid. I didnt like it when you took out the picture painter last month.
Thats because I wanted you to learn to paint all by yourself, son.
I dont want to do anything but look and listen and smell; what else is there to do?
All right, go play in Africa.
Will you shut off the house sometime soon?
Were considering it.
I dont think youd better consider it any more, Father.
I wont have any threats from my son!
Very well. And Peter strolled off to the nursery.
Am I on time? said David McClean.
Breakfast? asked George Hadley.
Thanks, had some. Whats the trouble?
David, youre a psychologist.
I should hope so.
Well, then, have a look at our nursery. You saw it a year ago when you dropped by; did you notice anything peculiar about it then?
Cant say I did; the usual violences, a tendency toward a slight paranoia here or there, usual in children because they feel persecuted by parents constantly, but, oh, really nothing.
They walked down the hall. I locked the nursery up, explained the father, and the children broke back into it during the night. I let them stay so they could form the patterns for you to see.
There was a terrible screaming from the nursery.
There it is, said George Hadley. See what you make of it.
They walked in on the children without rapping.
The screams had faded. The lions were feeding.
Run outside a moment, children, said George Hadley. No, dont change the mental combination. Leave the walls as they are. Get!
With the children gone, the two men stood studying the lions clustered at a distance, eating with great relish whatever it was they had caught.
I wish I knew what it was, said George Hadley. Sometimes I can almost see. Do you think if I brought high-powered binoculars here and
David McClean laughed dryly. Hardly. He turned to study all four walls. How long has this been going on?
A little over a month.
It certainly doesnt feel good.
I want facts, not feelings.
My dear George, a psychologist never saw a fact in his life. He only hears about feelings; vague things. This doesnt feel good, I tell you. Trust my hunches and my instincts. I have a nose for something bad. This is very bad. My advice to you is to have the whole damn room torn down and your children brought to me every day during the next year for treatment.
Is it that bad?
Im afraid so. One of the original uses of these nurseries was so that we could study the patterns left on the walls by the childs mind, study at our leisure, and help the child. In this case, however, the room has become a channel toward-destructive thoughts, instead of a release away from them.
Didnt you sense this before?
I sensed only that you bad spoiled your children more than most. And now youre letting them down in some way. What way?
I wouldnt let them go to New York.
What else?
Ive taken a few machines from the house and threatened them, a month ago, with closing up the nursery unless they did their homework. I did close it for a few days to show I meant business.
Ah, ha!
Does that mean anything?
Everything. Where before they had a Santa Claus now they have a Scrooge. Children prefer Santas. Youve let this room and this house replace you and your wife in your childrens affections. This room is their mother and father, far more important in their lives than their real parents. And now you come along and want to shut it off. No wonder theres hatred here. You can feel it coming out of the sky. Feel that sun. George, youll have to change your life. Like too many others, youve built it around creature comforts. Why, youd starve tomorrow if something went wrong in your kitchen. You wouldnt know bow to tap an egg. Nevertheless, turn everything off. Start new. Itll take time. But well make good children out of bad in a year, wait and see.
But wont the shock be too much for the children, shutting the room up abruptly, for good?
I dont want them going any deeper into this, thats all.
The lions were finished with their red feast.
The lions were standing on the edge of the clearing watching the two men.
Now Im feeling persecuted, said McClean. Lets get out of here. I never have cared for these damned rooms. Make me nervous.
The lions look real, dont they? said George Hadley. I dont suppose theres any way
What?
that they could become real?
Not that I know.
Some flaw in the machinery, a tampering or something?
No.
They went to the door.
I dont imagine the room will like being turned off, said the father.
Nothing ever likes to die even a room.
I wonder if it hates me for wanting to switch it off?
Paranoia is thick around here today, said David McClean. You can follow it like a spoor. Hello. He bent and picked up a bloody scarf. This yours?
No. George Hadleys face was rigid. It belongs to Lydia.
They went to the fuse box together and threw the switch that killed the nursery.
The two children were in hysterics. They screamed and pranced and threw things. They yelled and sobbed and swore and jumped at the furniture.
You cant do that to the nursery, you cant!
Now, children.
The children flung themselves onto a couch, weeping.
George, said Lydia Hadley, turn on the nursery, just for a few moments. You cant be so abrupt.
No.
You cant be so cruel
Lydia, its off, and it stays off. And the whole damn house dies as of here and now. The more I see of the mess weve put ourselves in, the more it sickens me. Weve been contemplating our mechanical, electronic navels for too long. My God, how we need a breath of honest air!
And he marched about the house turning off the voice clocks, the stoves, the heaters, the shoe shiners, the shoe lacers, the body scrubbers and swabbers and massagers, and every other machine be could put his hand to.
The house was full of dead bodies, it seemed. It felt like a mechanical cemetery. So silent. None of the humming hidden energy of machines waiting to function at the tap of a button.
Dont let them do it! wailed Peter at the ceiling, as if he was talking to the house, the nursery. Dont let Father kill everything. He turned to his father. Oh, I hate you!
Insults wont get you anywhere.