![]() ![]() ![]() Now, as George and Lydia Hadley stood in the center of the room, the walls began to purr and recede into crystalline distance, it seemed, and presently an African veldt appeared, in three dimensions, on all sides, in color reproduced to the final pebble and bit of straw. The walls were blank and two dimensional. It was empty as a jungle glade at hot high noon. "But nothing's too good for our children," George had said. It was forty feet across by forty feet long and thirty feet high it had cost half again as much as the rest of the house. They stood on the thatched floor of the nursery. Similarly, behind them, in the halls, lights went on and off as they left them behind, with a soft automaticity. ![]() Their approach sensitized a switch somewhere and the nursery light flicked on when they came within ten feet of it. "It's just that the nursery is different now than it was." "All right, let's have a look." They walked down the hall of their soundproofed Happylife Home, which had cost them thirty thousand dollars installed, this house which clothed and fed and rocked them to sleep and played and sang and was good to them. ![]() "George, I wish you'd look at the nursery." "What's wrong with it?" "I don't know." "Well, then." "I just want you to look at it, is all, or call a psychologist in to look at it." "What would a psychologist want with a nursery?" "You know very well what he'd want." His wife paused in the middle of the kitchen and watched the stove busy humming to itself, making supper for four. ![]()
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