"As a concession to our mental infirmity," he said, "we have been granted the privilege of reading some of the old authors. It came about in this way. Dr. Weakling, who is in charge of this hospital, is the son of one of my oldest friends--a man who spent several years in this place as a patient. He came in about the same time as I did, but his health gave way and he 'recanted,' or, as they say, he 'recovered.' But while he was here he begged to have a few of the old books to save him from going mad. The authorities refused to let him have any books except those specially provided, and I believe it was this that made him give way. Anyhow he used his influence with his son afterwards, for his son had become one of the leading medical specialists, to obtain for the older patients at any rate a number of the books of the old literature which nobody else wanted to read. He only got the concession through on the ground that it was a psychological experiment. He has had to write a report on the experiment every year since its introduction. That is our greatest positive privilege, but we have a few negative privileges." "What do you mean exactly?" I said. "We have no compulsory attendances; we have no forms to fill up; we are not required to keep a diary; we are not required to read the _Monthly Gazette of Instructions_, nor play any part in State ceremonies. Indeed, if I could talk to my friends who are here I should have little to complain of on the score of personal comfort." "Then why do you speak of the difficulty of preserving your sanity?" I said, rather thoughtlessly, I am afraid. "Why do you think I am here at all?" he replied, for the first time speaking fiercely. "I could have my liberty to-day if I chose, could I not?" Then he went on, not angrily but more bitterly, "Did I say I could have my liberty? No; that is not true. I could go out of here tomorrow, but I should not be at liberty. I stay here, because here I am only a prisoner--outside I should be a slave. How long have you been in Meccania did you say?" "About five months," I said. "And you are free to go back to your own country?" "Certainly," I said--"at least, I hope so." "Then go as soon as you can. This is no fit place for human beings. It is a community of slaves, who do not even know they are slaves because they have never tasted liberty, ruled over by a caste of super-criminals who have turned crime into a science." "I have not heard the ruling classes called criminals before," I said. "I am not sure that I understand what you mean." "Then you must have been woefully taken in by all this hocus-pocus of law and constitution and patriotism. The whole place is one gigantic prison, and either the people themselves are criminals, or those who put them there must be. There is such a thing as legalised crime. Crime is not merely the breaking of a statute. Murder and rape are crimes, statute or no statute."