The Iron Curtain sagged, fell apart, and sank into oblivion. Grandma’s lie soap had conquered the world. V Since I retired, I’ve been using my leisure in exploration and observation of this world which I did a good deal to create, this world which differs so much from the one I grew up in and can remember better than most others even of my own generation. They’ve had the treatment, and they’ve changed. But I still brush my teeth with a salt-and-soda mixture. In many ways, the present era answers to the visions that were called Utopian when I was a boy--called that, usually, with a sneer. A lot of the social and political reforms we only dreamed about then have been carried out as a matter of course which was inevitable once people stopped lying themselves and one another black in the face. Mental diseases, tangled lives, crime have all been swept away--not to mention the threat of war that was the Great Shadow overlying all the lesser shadows of the old world. An election campaign now is carried on in an atmosphere of sobriety and statesmanship that would have given an old-time politician the creeps. None of the old bandstand, circus stuff.... Speaking of that, one thing I miss is the circus. I used to like to listen to the sideshow barkers--an extinct tribe. I know, they still have circuses, or call them that; but P. T. Barnum would disown them. But ... people look one another in the eyes much more than they ever used to. They don’t seem afraid. There’s confidence--not the ballooning confidence that led to big economic booms and bigger busts, but a trust resting on solid foundations. Still, sometimes I wonder. Not long ago I ran into O’Brien, for the first time in years, in a bar. People don’t drink as much as they did, but O’Brien had been drinking a good deal. “How are you?” I said automatically, the sight of such a long-remembered face making me forget that that particular greeting wasn’t used nowadays. He began a detailed description of his general state of health and present state of intoxication. “Oh,” I said. “You’ve had it.” “Yeah,” said O’Brien. “I broke down and took the treatment. I got like everybody else. I couldn’t stand the temptation any more. You know what I mean?” I knew exactly what he meant. For him, with his background, it must have been much worse. “Maybe,” said O’Brien thickly, “I could have been dictator of the world if I’d wanted. But this way’s better.” He signaled the waiter, then looked at me curiously. “You--not yet?” “Not yet,” I said. “Maybe never. I like to watch things.” “Watch the sheep run,” mumbled O’Brien. “All sheep....” * * * * * He was drunk, but he’d had Grandma’s lie soap, and he spoke the truth. Perhaps there’s too much confidence.