Level 7

Trying to escape her professional zeal, which made me feel like a laboratory guinea-pig, I asked her about her own feelings. “Oh,” she said, “I feel fine.” And she went on to explain why she felt so well. The experience of living on Level 7 was most interesting from the psychological point of view. She would have loved to undertake a piece of psychological research into the response of Level 7’s crew to their new surroundings. (So I was a guinea-pig!) It would make a fascinating article if only she could publish the results of her research, which she obviously could not do on Level 7.

At that point I interrupted her: “So you too think in terms of ‘if’?” She did not understand. I explained that I had been thinking in terms of ‘if’: if I had not been chosen for Level 7, if it were possible to go back up on leave, if I had the disposition of a woman….

“You mustn’t think in those terms,” she protested. “That’s escapism. You must find here and now what you can find here and now.” It sounded like some kind of slogan. “Don’t look backwards and don’t think hypothetically. There’s a lot of meaning in our life here. You have a job to do, a country to defend. You have human company here—even female company.” And she suddenly giggled. “What more can a man want, tell me that?”

I answered, almost inaudibly: “Sunshine.”

She remained quiet for a long while and then vigorously shook her head: “No. Sunshine can’t in itself be a real need. I’ve studied quite a few psychological systems, and not one of them ever regarded the quest for sunshine as a basic motivation of human beings, or as a possible foundation for neurosis. Definitely not. There must be some other reason for your state of mind. Sunshine is just a symbol. What lies behind that is the real cause.”

At that moment the loudspeaker announced that our time in the lounge was up. As we parted outside the door she remarked: “You never know—one day you may need psychological treatment. I’ll be happy to help you.” At this she giggled again.

MARCH 27

I am trying to divert myself by learning what I can about the technical arrangements on Level 7. In their way they are pretty remarkable. This is a very small world, but it seems to be quite self-sufficient. Although it lies so deep underground it has its own supply of energy, food and all the other essential commodities needed by its crew. We might be on a ship, equipped for an endless voyage.

For one thing, we shall never run out of fuel. Everything here works by electricity from dynamos powered by an atomic reactor which can supply all the energy we want for a thousand years. There is nothing new in this principle, but when you think of all the gadgets which are using up electricity twenty-four hours a day down here you appreciate how impossible life would be without an atomic reactor.

The problem of storing nourishment must have been more complicated; but at dinner today somebody provided some interesting information about that. (People have started to be more talkative lately.) He said—and he appeared to know what he was talking about—that dehydrated food in enormous quantities is stored in a huge deep-freeze. At each meal the necessary amount is automatically taken out of the freeze, warmed, mixed with water and served on our plates. Being dehydrated, it takes up very little space. Even so, the storage of enough to feed 500 people for 500 years is no simple matter.

The man’s mention of 500 years made everybody fall silent for a few moments. I expect the others were thinking the same as I was. I sometimes feel as if I have been down here months already, not just days; and to think of Level 7 in terms of centuries is beyond my imagination.

One of the women made it her task to break the silence by asking how enough water could be stored underground. “There is no dehydrated water,” she added, and was rewarded by a few bleak smiles from the rest of us.

However, we gathered from the expert that there is no need to store water, and that the supply is unlimited. In fact it is the only commodity which can never run short. It reaches us from deep underground sources, inexhaustible because of precipitation.

“At first,” the expert said, “it was feared that the water might become contaminated in the event of an atomic war. Then it was found that the thick layers of earth through which the water has to pass on its way down act as excellent filters. We stand no risk of drinking impure water.”

Our meal was nearly over, when somebody raised the question of refuse. The disposal of sewage and other rubbish on Level 7 was surely as big a problem as the storage of food.