BORON
Mike Hosken
Boron was unhappy. He had that worrying QA looming, just three weeks ahead now. He couldn't concentrate: perhaps that was the real reason the little fugue wouldn't seem to work out. Anyway, who'd want a silly sonatina for flute and strings from him even if he did ever finish it?
He slumped into his one and only easy chair. A Scotch would have been nice, but he'd had to abandon that little luxury - and fight the demon nicotine too - when his capital had run out last year. It was now nearly five years since the twentyfirst century reached its halfway point, and with them the loss of his normal, conventional existence, his wife and two kids, his job and his car. A healthier lifestyle now perhaps. All very well, physically, if you don't count the developing paunch. A bit more exercise? A walk might take his mind off his troubles.
The wind helped him close his front door, his only door, with an unintentional bang. He swiped his keycard through the lock on the garden (euphemism) gate and tried to put on a reasonably cheerful face for his approach to the Exit Room. And Fate was kind: as he had hoped, Beryllium was on duty, her dark eyes and darker hair contrasting with the bright sparkle of metallic decorations on her uniform. An insignificant pleasantry and a half smile were the most he could expect from her: there had never been any significant communion between them.
He posed as usual beside the big date clock so that Beryllium's press on the button took a digital photograph of him with his departure time. The second button made a louder clunk, activating the release mechanism on the door to freedom. Boron was glad to be in the PreQA category, for now at least: he would not have an automatic pager secured round his waist.
He made his way down through the rows of semidetached villas to the sea front, hoping for some wildness to fit his mood. The sky was bright enough, the sunshine brilliant. The wind was onshore, carrying spray from the breaking waves right across the Promenade. But he carried on, turning right to travel with the hood of his anorak protecting his head and neck.
Beyond the town, where the road turned inland, he chose the footpath that climbed the cliff. Half a mile of slog would bring him to a viewpoint from which the whole bay was laid out for the delectation of visitors. He was at first disappointed to see that the seat provided there by a considerate Council was already occupied. But the heavy, bearded figure might possibly be Sulphur, whom he had met in town on several occasions. And so it turned out to be.
"Morning, Boron. Nice day for a climb" and noting the hang-dog visage still sheltering within its hood, "You're not looking very cheerful."
"Morning Sulphur. Well, it's certainly better here than it is in my prison down there". Boron indicated the town below them.
"Oh come now! That's not a prison, is it? If it were you'd hardly be up here enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. And you're not due to be there much longer, are you?"
"That's just the trouble, Sulphur. I've got my Assessment in three weeks' time and goodness only knows what I'll be due for after that. It's all the worry and uncertainty that's getting me thoroughly fed up, to put it mildly."
"Well have you taken professional advice? - found out what your chances are? - what your options are?"
"No, I can't afford professional advice nowadays."
"OK, but that doesn't mean disaster, does it? I mean, you know the system yourself, and you know you can Appeal against any grading that's unfair or unjust."
"I'm afraid you're being a bit naïve there, old boy: it has nothing whatever to do with fairness or justice. Justice says that everyone has equal rights before the law, live and let live, do as you would be done by and all that. Nothing to do with this so-called 'happiness' business. The Quinquennial Assessment is purely about generating 'happiness' - or not as the case seems very likely to be."
"You're just being a pessimist - unnecessarily I'm sure. There are so many hundreds of ways of generating a safe happiness score that there must be something you can do about it."
"Such as what? Get a 'socially valuable' job?" jeered Boron. "Hell's teeth! You can't go talking about justice when a common prostitute gets a score in the ten to twenty range while an aspiring composer gets plain bloody zero just because he's not in the charts."
Sulphur pondered awhile. "So why has this come to a head just now? You did have a job and a family at one time, didn't you?"
"Yes I did. It's just my pigheadedness I suppose", replied Boron, "I got reasonable scores as a family man and as a music teacher. I was deemed to be creating happiness when I was drilling thirty kids at a time to sing Nymphs and Shepherds Come Away or whatever, but that just ignored the tedium and frustration that I was suffering. You only have one life, you know, and I wasn't prepared to grind away at that for the rest of my days."
"But you've got to do something, haven't you? If composing music doesn't fit the bill by itself, can't you find some job - any job - that 'enhances pleasure or diminishes pain', to quote the regulations?"
"Like a dustman or a navvy, you mean? I'm not qualified for any job that would take my fancy, let alone afford me any job satisfaction." Boron relapsed into thoughtful silence.
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The Clerk to the Assessors turned out to be a pleasant enough soul, a lady probably in her late fifties with greying hair tied up in a bun, her spectacles hanging from a cord round her neck. She abandoned the seat behind her desk to take one of three armchairs and indicate a choice of the others for Boron.
"I'm glad you were able to come into the office this morning, Boron, so that we can sort out a few preliminaries ahead of your Quinquennial Assessment hearing next week. Am I right in thinking that, from glancing through your file, this will be your first personal appearance at a QA?"
"Yes indeed. I've always had the automatic pleasure grading that went with my job and marital status up to now."
"That's what the file says. So certain aspects of the procedure will be new to you. The next important question is this: will you be professionally represented at the hearing or will you yourself be presenting the facts and making the arguments?"
Slightly taken aback, Boron confirmed that he would be on his own. "I knew I would need to confirm the facts of the case, but I thought it was then just a case of seeing where I fitted in as regards the rules and regulations. Who do I have to argue with?"
"I'm sorry, I think you misunderstood, or I didn't make myself clear. You will not be called upon to argue with anyone, but you will be at liberty - in fact encouraged - to suggest to the Assessor any ways in which you think your case can be strengthened and your grade score increased. This might be through some more liberal interpretation of the regulations, or to draw attention to some advantageous fact not already included in your Assessment file."
"I see. Well, I say I see but I don't really have much of a clue about these things."
"I understand, of course," responded the Clerk. "These are matters that only a tiny minority of members of the public need to concern themselves with. It is particularly difficult for first-timers such as yourself. I generally find that the most helpful thing I can do is to explain the context within which the assessment operates, and then leave you with a set of summary notes setting out, in plain English, details of those regulations which are most commonly relevant in cases such as these."
"That would indeed be helpful. Thank you." responded Boron.
"Well, as I'm sure you do already know, the whole of the Assessment scheme is based on the quite simple principle that pleasures are better than pains. No one will argue against that! So it follows inevitably that the more pleasure and the fewer pains the better. In fact, the 'good' in our society can then be defined as the circumstance which gives rise to the greatest net total of pleasures for the greatest number of people. 'Net' pleasures or 'net' total is just a shorthand way of saying that in all cases pains are subtracted from the pleasures that are generated but we don't want to talk of pleasures minus pains the whole time. Alright so far, I expect."
"Yes indeed", responded Boron.
"So saving pains is equivalent to adding pleasure."
"Of course."
"Nobody thinks of the supervisor of the sewage works as providing pleasure, but he is responsible for saving an awful lot of pains! So his job gains him a mid-range assessment score automatically. Perhaps even more obviously, doctors, nurses, fire fighters and the like are graded automatically by virtue of their vocations, with opportunities for enhancements that we need not worry about at the moment."
"Quite!", retorted Boron.
"Indeed, you probably knew about your assessment grading as a teacher, where you were regarded as enhancing the pleasures, the fulfilments of your charges, and also helping to prevent the social chaos which would result from any failure of education. My own job here as Clerk to the Assessors is graded not so much on any output of pleasures as on maintaining the fabric of society and helping, in my modest, indirect way, to prevent the pains of anarchy."
"But there's no automatic recognition for aspiring composers". Boron's statement was really intended as a question. "There seems to be no merit in trying, in ambition: no kudos for aestheticism."
"I'm afraid you're right there. It's the old, old story: nothing succeeds like success. The happiness provided by a number one hit is attributed to the composer, of course. I've seen the files on one or two pop stars with grades well up into the nineties."
"I'm afraid the sort of stuff I write won't earn me that sort of grading, any more than it earns me that sort of cash." Boron offered a wan smile.
The Clerk consulted her notes. It seemed she must have a checklist for such interviews. "One aspect of this business which is not widely appreciated is that the regulations do seek to recognise happiness in all its forms, including happiness in and from animals. So a dairy or other livestock farmer is given a higher grade than an otherwise equivalent arable farmer growing crops only. I realise that doesn't affect you, but if you had one or more domestic pets that would be a credit factor so far as the Assessor is concerned."
"I didn't realise that, certainly. Another nil score for me I'm afraid", mused Boron.
"Do you have any questions for me? - any point that you're not clear about'? As I said earlier, this booklet of guide notes is for you to take away and study between now and your QA. I think it will help you in preparing your case and avoiding difficulties on the day."
"Well, I'm grateful for your help. Can I come and see you again in the meanwhile if necessary?"
"Yes, of course. My free telephone number is on the back of the booklet. But if there's nothing else for the moment ..."
And so the interview ended. Boron left, a wiser but not markedly more cheerful man.
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Quinquennial Assessments were normally automatic matters of office routine. They affected all citizens between the ages of eighteen and sixty, employed, self-employed and unemployed, male and female. Patients in mental institutions were assigned a zero grading except where staff or relatives chose to apply for special consideration.
Each year a selection of files were examined by the Assessment Inspectorate so that details of occupation and family structure could be checked. Hobbies, pets and any voluntary activities were updated where necessary.
The resulting small number of QA hearings were conducted, formally but in low key, in the Assessorium in the presence of the locally based Assessor or Deputy. Documentary evidence could be submitted where any facts were in need of confirmation or records were to be amended.
In Boron's case the facts were very largely beyond dispute - his having no family involvement; his lack of employment; the absence of any other socially desirable activity. His only hope of avoiding the zero grading must lie in argument and persuasion. Without professional assistance that would be difficult.
Boron was understandably nervous when, on the day of his crucial QA, he was ushered into the room to face his ordeal. There was just one large table in the centre of quite a small room. Five upholstered chairs were spread around the table. Several small microphones were set in a recess in the middle, doubtless connected invisibly to what looked like a recorder on a shelf in one corner. Bright windows, currently sunlit, were screened by half-open venetian blinds and bordered with velveteen curtains. Framed pictures on the walls, mostly views of local beauty spots, completed the decor. Further to enhance the sought-for relaxed and homely atmosphere, a coffee percolator with cups and saucers and a plate of cream biscuits occupied a triangular corner table. The Clerk was there with a tall man dressed in sports jacket and open-necked shirt.
"Ah! Come in Boron", said the Clerk, "I'd like to introduce our Deputy Assessor, Rubidium. Boron, Rubidium: Rubidium, Boron."
"I'm pleased to meet you, in the flesh so to speak, Boron. I've been through your file of course but it is so much nicer to have the opportunity of a face to face meeting and discussion. Please help yourself to coffee and biscuits.
"I understand from Gold here", indicating the Clerk, "that you'll be on your own this morning so when you've got your coffee pick yourself a seat and we can make a start."
Boron placed his copy of the Guide Notes booklet which he had brought with him on the table, together with some notes of his own which he had compiled over the last couple of weeks. Armed then with coffee and biscuits the three took their seats.
"As things stand" began Rubidium, "your grading has unfortunately had to be assessed at zero, Boron. It's our job this morning to try and discover some justification for raising that. Gold will be taking notes of this meeting, and the whole interview is being recorded in case a verbatim report could be helpful in any Appeal you might later want to put forward. Gold and I have both studied the facts as recorded in your file, a copy of which was sent to you some time ago. Is there anything there, any factual error, that needs to be corrected or are we agreed on the basic facts of the case?"
"No, the bare facts of what I do and what I don't do seem to be alright", replied Boron. "What I wish to argue is that justice demands that more weight be given to my music, to my composition. Can I go ahead with that?"
"Please do, Boron."
"Well, the whole essence of music is to give pleasure. I think we can agree on that."
"Yes, of course", said Rubidium.
"But musical appreciation is highly personal. What is funky music to a pop fan may be hideous din to a person of more classical taste. Conversely, Bach and Mozart are too boring to be tolerated by some folk. Then again, much modem so-called serious music seems by many a lover of Handel and Tchaikovsky to be pointless if not actually ghastly. History has been littered with cases where new compositions, by Beethoven, by Stravinsky, and countless others have been rejected as unplayable or unendurable by their contemporaries, only to be revealed in course of time as seminal works, valuable contributions to a standard repertoire. And performances of such music have contributed immensely to the fulfilment and happiness of millions of people.
"Of course I can't claim to be a Beethoven or a Stravinsky. But it may turn out that I - or my music, that is to say - may come to occupy some more modest place of enjoyment and recognition."
"I hope you are right, Boron. But unfortunately our present problem does not concern the future. Assessments have to be based on past records and present circumstances. It's simply not allowable to consider hopes or aspirations, I'm afraid", the Deputy Assessor explained.
Becoming more strained and agitated, Boron asked, "So how can I escape this zero grading? What must I do now so that these 'present circumstances' qualify me for something more reasonable?"
"What are the possibilities of getting some of your work published? According to my file here you've not managed publication so far. Is that right?"
A discouraged "Yes" from Boron.
"That's a pity", continued the DA. "The criterion in such cases, with art and writing as well as with music, is whether or not any work is available to the public, in some permanent form, for money. This almost invariably must involve a recognised publisher accepting the work under some form of contract. This is our best guarantee that the work is publicly accessible and generates some degree of happiness. It is possible for us to allow self-publication but the rules and criteria are much more demanding and are strictly adhered to. I'm afraid publication in some non-permanent form such as on the Internet would not qualify at all."
"Yes, I see. So how much time do I have to try and get something published? Come to that, what happens if I'm still unsuccessful? I'd be grateful if you would tell me what to expect in the foreseeable future." Boron was becoming increasingly worried.
"Well, let's consider the worst case scenario first, and then look at some more cheerful possibilities", began the Deputy Assessor. "Anyone with a long-standing zero grade is automatically entered into the Donor Register. This means that if the need arises when that person is aged between thirty-five and sixty he or she will be put to sleep in the most sympathetic and humane way possible. This is purely so that their organs can be harvested for use in the surgical salvation of children or of high-grade adults. Then ..."
"You mean I'll be killed and cut up, to save other people's lives?" interrupted Boron.
"Basically yes, that's it, though to be strictly accurate recipients need not be in a final life-or-death situation. You see, in a utilitarian society such as ours the ..."
"Sorry: in a utility society. What's that supposed to mean?"
"No, utilitarian society." corrected Rubidium. "Our utilitarian system, or ethic, is all based on the idea of utility, where utility is defined as happiness - and the absence of pains of course. That action is right which fosters or promotes the maximum amount of net happiness among the greatest number of people. So in the last analysis it is logical and right that someone who generates little or no happiness should be sacrificed where that can be shown to benefit other persons who can and do generate measurably greater happiness - whose lives carry greater utility."
"But that's absurd", Boron objected. "Everyone has their rights and the most basic of human rights is the right to live."
"No, I'm sorry Boron, that is a matter of opinion, not a statement of fact", contested the DA. "Inevitably all rights - call them human rights if you like - are subject to limitations. The right to free speech can never justify calling for a riot. Freedom of action does not sanction burglary. Many societies in past and present phases of their development have incorporated capital punishment within their moral codes. The only difference in our case is that our utilitarian philosophy allows zero grade individuals to be sacrificed, subject to many safeguards which we can discuss in a minute, to be sacrificed for the common good of society - for the maximisation of society's net overall happiness."
"So there's no justice for the individual then": Boron again made a statement intended more as a question.
"Oh that's rather too sweeping. Look at it this way: you have had - still have - every opportunity to generate happiness, just as you've had every opportunity to partake of the happiness generated by others. Those are your rights, your inalienable rights if you like. If you can't or wont make any contribution then society regards you as being effectively not worth keeping. I can appreciate that you might find it unjust if you regarded your death as a punishment for what you have not done but in fact every community in nature quite normally and naturally abandons or sacrifices any non-contributing individuals."
"Survival of the fittest, you mean? I thought that was the brutish way of brute beasts, not the apotheosis of twenty-first century human morality."
"That's an interesting thought, though I'm not entirely convinced that the comparison is valid. But I think we might carry on a fascinating philosophical discussion for a long time, when our business here this morning is really to review your particular problems. We must defer revolutionising the system until another occasion.
"Meanwhile, I mentioned safeguards earlier on. Some are to protect you and others are on behalf of society. I'll mention the relatively nasty ones first.
"lf, as seems inevitable, your zero grading is confirmed you will continue to live as you do now, in your room at the Residence. You will still be free to come and go as you wish, provided only that every go is matched with a corresponding come - that you return to the Residence within every period of twenty-four hours. Your movements will be monitored by means of a paging device secured around your waist."
"I had heard about those things", said Boron.
"When it comes to procedures and rules to safeguard your position, may I say that none of us wants to be handling a Donor Register case. We get to know our clients as personal acquaintances and regard it as a failure if our efforts to bring about a more positive grading prove ineffectual. You can contact Gold or myself at absolutely any time: I believe you have a note of the telephone numbers?"
Boron nodded in acknowledgement.
"There is a twenty-four hour answering service on those lines. So you must let us know immediately as and when any improvement occurs in your circumstances. There might be publication of your music: you should also tell us about any public performances even if no payment is involved. You might undertake some voluntary work, perhaps. I don't know, any chance of romance and marriage? If so, tell us. I don't think you're allowed to keep pets in the Residence, so that's probably not a possibility we might count on.
"Be that as it may, the safeguards I was going to mention include the fact that if your zero grade is ratified, that will be confirmed to you in writing from Headquarters and they will send you an Appeal Application form as a matter of normal routine. You will be given a minimum of twenty-eight days' notice, again in writing, of any subsequent stages such as medical tests and measurements. You will similarly be given a choice of venue for your Terminal Vacation - should it ever come to that in fact."
"Gosh, it's difficult to take all this in so quickly", complained Boron. "And I still think the whole thing's ethically wrong, morally wrong, totally unjustifiable."
"But I'm afraid that's the way things are. I'm not personally a high priest of utilitarianism. Parliament in its wisdom has embodied certain principles in its legislation, and given guidelines as to the types of regulations necessary to implement those principles. My job, and our meeting this morning, are outcomes stemming directly from those regulations. Every individual case exists in a wide context of national philosophy and the practicalities of conscientious implementation."
A pause.
"Sorry if that last bit sounded highfalutin. Is that pot of coffee still hot, Gold?"
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