NEW METROPOLIS

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 220, 17 September 1938, Page 13 (Supplement)

NEW METROPOLIS

Serial Story

SYNOPSIS i "Now Metropolis" looks the London of 100 years ■—- h ** d — to I.rst instalment introduced John Oort non, -ion of London's fchis* a...i T, Chomist, Philip Qordon Phiiii. L C *' Is e.pnrimen t "JP GO /^°" and h.s son, V.& ?o Td t-rp,.ii, a country girl, voir.. ih. . . ng hostility of the Count?, sut-f'Tl th» exporiments in the csplui h, Brt of th, .«? oZZZ'UX* 'JtWohV'fro h.v/i^aa^o^r. 00 - nd "•« csr. opposition from the Country «Tl,. g a'::. Now'HiMetroplohs. '*'*

tl.V'lirP* Cit f yWithOUt Bmoke . Without r <> hco hL'T' WlthoUt noi8 «. save "r •' iHc hke hum of fourteen milIU ", , the & ent,e throbbing of .1. m'tu rn planes that moved over--1,1 ■ 1 their stipulated heights. 1 1. «.i-j a city of gardens, at ground " > "" l l on roof -t<»ps, of fine thoroughopen squares, of wide pateim«'m ;i „d uniform skylines, of build '" y . beauty arose from their m"U- <• geometrical proportion* and their 01 sentimental adornment.

By--Kenneth Adam

Immediately below them, the youn<* man and the very old, lay the glittering ribbon of the Thames, liquid silver curl" ing between ivory banks, for both imrth and south sides were flanked with buildings made of the new cement that had the deep white tone of parchment. On the north bank, it is true, were so me old edifices, Shell-Mex House, for instance the Adelphi block and the oldJiiKiiioiied Savoy Hotel. But these rangers from the last century were to look welcome in the plan whirh the architects of the New Metrop<>lis had laid down.

On the south, however, In the great ci;p of the river from Westminster to Jilackfriars-Ke.it had opposed the scheme for straightening the Thames on a-sthetic grounds—there had arisen in the In«t generation a splendid embankment. Here modernity had undisputed ft way. r

Jhe "World Travellers,"greatest hotel in the world, sprawled elegantly beneath them, and the South Station, with its forecourt of lawns and fountains, beside it.

I urther to the right, as John's eye roamed, were the research blocks, in one of them hit own office, in another his father s bacterial laboratories, Squat and solid these riverside blocks seemed from that height. But John knew that from the river their evenness—the 500 ft building line was scrupulously observed on the south aide except for the Metropolitan Tower, from whose dizzy 1200 ft tt ww looked down—and their glaaa 5 a fine abstract air. JLndeed, far visitors, and far Londoners f**' wis no more popular trip by wmter-ln» fttt from the Temple . < ?* l —» * ride, to gaze at the loveHnesa of the South Side. John tamed Ma attentioa for a moment to the river and ita bridges. How handsome and broad seemed the faring Croae Road bridge, even from this altitude, with its three traffic lanes,, and the magnificent white-rubber highway on either aide ihat drove like an arrow, north, past the University and, south, to St. George's and on into Kent. John remeinlbered that his father had told him how, aa a boy, he had been taken by his uncle, one of the great planners from Queen Anne's Gate, in the last train that crossed by the old, ugly Charing Croaa bridge, and how its demolition had been the occasion for a great banquet and rejoicing at Westminster.

That was before sH the rail tracks had been put underground, before, too, the metropolitan state, when a Parliament still sat in St. Stephen's, and it had not become a museum.

Beside the wide, substantial expanse •f Charing Cross, the Temple Bridge •eeened an airy, graceful thing, a delicate toy of a bridge, but eminently in keeping with the carefully preserved quarter of the Inns of Court, from which •prang its single arch.

Beyond it, Blackfriara and St. Paul's, sturdy and compact, noeed their way from the quiet eity, where no wheeled traflie was allowed, into the teeming activity of the borough, whose squalid wharvee and shameless inelegance had long given placo to a trim 'pattern of grouped around squares. The sun as it dropped lower in the •ky turned the elear, tidelem waters of the Thames from silver to gold. Since the barrage had been erected at Woolwich, it had become • lagoon to mirror the foliage and the aprignt grandeur of the buildings on lte banks, a highway for all kinds of pleasure craft, and higher up, at Fmtaey, a paradise for •almoa fishers. j

Just now (he Herbert!, mm flit w»l«r----buses were wiled after their founder, ■were skimming merrily over the water, for it *u the Itvoartt* time of d*y for a trip. Only the epeedboat tula, which earTied business executive* from the city to their homes up-river, outpaced the buses; here and there a tiny yacht idled along, failing still bad its devotees. To John's left, below the eight enormous chimneys of the Baittersea power atation, lay the amphibian station, a part of the river eut off by a landing ptape where even now a trans-Atlantic seaplane was "turning over," < ready to hop off en Its eight-hour Journey with the night mail to New YorkThey saw the eity quicken with activity as they stood there, for the day's work was ending. Not, of course, tJmt there was any congestion or discomfort. The great stores, business houses and laboratories disgorged their employee* in batches, at the quarterhour intervals laid down by the Staggering Department. But the moving pavements at first-floor level gw* appreciably fuller, and on the speedways north nnd south, traffic from being oreiiHiunal became regular. From John's vantage-point the long' streamlined curs looked like incrediWy fast moving ants. Thousands of the lower type workers were not to be seen lenving at all. Those without cars descended by escalators inside the building* to tune level, where they were carried by moving pavements to the Underground citations. They would emerge from the tunnels in the middle none, which started roughly 10 miles from Chaiing Cross Place.

Some of those leaving, though comparatively few, took one of the electric buses that ran on the outer track of the processional ways, to the aerodromes which stood on stilts, with winter gardens beneath the glass landing stages, at King's Cross and the Elephant. John felt strangely moved. At Kent's gentle bidding he seemed to have discovered a new vision of London. It was as though they were in a purer, rarer atmosphere up there that enabled him to see more vividly the glory of this super-state of which he was part. John glanced at the old man by his side, the architect of this Utopia that had come true. , His spar® old frame wa« erect; his outstretched hands gripped the chromium rail of the platform; he was smiling as he looked out over London, his London. ♦ * ♦ ♦ CHAPTER 11. A FEW nights later the twelve Governors of the Metropolitan State, clad in their scarlet silk, nine men. three women, sat in conclave in the great central hall of the Tower. The dark curtains of the room were drawn to shut out the brightness of the leisure-light, which flooded the London below them with an effulgence as complete as sunshine. They sat on either side of a table which ran almost the length of the room. Wine stood before them, in choice decanters. Kent, at their head, sipped reflectively from a goblet of fine-spun glass at least a hundred years old. The soft diffused lighting in the chamber turned his sharp, eagle-like features into a quiet mask. The ordinary weekly routine was over. There remained the special business, which they had all been awaiting with ill-concealed impatience. But Kent was never one to hurry unduly. At last he spoke:

"Fellow Governors," he looked first to one side of the table, then the other, "we will proceed to the extraordinary agenda, a report by our Chief Analytical Chemist, Mr. Philip Gordon, who has, as you all know, been engaged in experiments of the first magnitude. I think from what he has hinted to me that he has startling news. 1 propose, without further ado, to ask Mr. Gordon to join n»*

Thrilling Romance Of London 100 Years From Now!

Gordon was waiting, a sheaf of papers in his hand. He advanced and bowed. He distributed the papers, which were revealed as graphs and diagrams. Then, at Kent's request, he told his tale. As was customary with him, he was direct and brief:

"Ladies and gentlemen, as . you are already aware, my laboratories have for some years now been engaged in research into the nature of vegetable matter. These papers, with their figures and diagradis, give you the progress of those in a detail which you may study for yourselves, and which it would be tedious for me to repeat now.

"The important thing is that those experiments have now reached a definitive stage. We have succeeded in what we set out to accomplish. We have managed to break down liquid cellulose, derived from wood pulp, into its sugars and proteids. That is a discovery of farreaching importance. It means that we can make artificial 'food. It means that we are no longer dependent on animals and plants to translate cellulose into a form digestible by man. It means the beginning of a new area in which men will go not to the field and the pasture, but to the laboratory for their bread and their flesh.

''We knew, of course, that all foods are chemical compounds. We knew how to analyse them. But, until a couple of months ago, wc could not build them up. Now, with the aid of bacteria whose formula you will find described in the pages before you, we can 'cultivate indefinitely the tastes and smells and nutritive values of practically all foodstuffs known to man. Vitamins, of course, can be added in the later stages of culture. Naturally at the moment we are not in a position to supply any but the most elementary forms of food and drink, but it is only a question of time, and of demand for ua to breed bacteria to any specification.

"Indeed, supplv fa future will be limited, not by storms or sunshine, or animal disease or anything else, but

only by demand. Give us time, and you can have anything yon want, and as much of it as you want. We have done with the slaughterhouse, ladies and gentlemen, and the milking of cows.

"With the completion of Experiment AYZ 3400, fields have become an anachronism.

"The old cycle of seedtime and liarvest, which has determined the history of man for so many thousands of years, has lost its meaning. The very appearance of the land must change in a few years, out of all recognition."

The governors looked at each other in a bewildered fashion as Gordon ended. For a moment no one spoke. Even to these well-trained minds, accustomed to take marvels for granted, drilled into intellectual reactions from which wonder had been all but expunged this news came as a tremendous shock. They could hardly credit the vastness of the discovery. One of the women took a gulp of wine and nearly choked over it. Then Kent said:

"You are sure, Gordon ? There can be no mistake?"

At the same moment, Richardson, fleshy-middle-aged governor, as well known for his love of good living as for the sharpness of his legalistic brain, asked:

"What's it going to taste like? Look like? This is awful!"

That brought them down to earth. There was a general laugh. Gordon took from his pocket a small, flat tin, undid the top, and passed it to Kent.

"I think thi3 will answer both inquiries, gentlemen. This is a special food I prepared, to convince you, my figures would not. It has been in cultivation exactly four days. Please taste it!"

Gingerly Richardson broke off a piece of the colourless substance in the tin, and bit it. Then his expression changed. Doubt gave place to delight, and then to incredulity. He took some more, and savoured it on his tongue. "Marvellous," ho breathed, "that is the best breast of chicken I ever tasted."

"I'm glad you recognised it," smiled Gordon. "Synthetic food, Mr. Richardson, is going to make eating a new joy. You can have menus that no gourmet from Lucullus to—yourself ever dared to dream of, new and exquisite tastes, produced eventually for the price of a song."

The news of Gordon's discovery caused a tremendous sensation in both States.

Formally the citizens of London were asked, by tele-cast the next day, whether they approved of the research and wished it to be continued. Kent 6poke, and so did Gordon himself.

The Bishop of London put the contrary view, maintaining that it was unnatural for men to give up eating the fruits of the field.

But by an overwhelming majority Londoners voted for continuation; the automatic recorders at the telephone exchanges registered a 90 per cent poll, one of the highest since the referendum had been instituted a generation beforehand twelve of the thirteen and a half million voters approved. There was an immediate rise in timber prices, because it was estimated that huge supplies of wood-pulp would be needed; new factories were hastily erected for converting it into the liquid state, on the undeveloped srround near Staines.

But in the country there was fear and indignation. The subterranean hostility of which John had reported broke out into open expression of hatred.

''Gordon the arch-villain!" yelled the mobs in the market-places. The old phraseology, the old epithets, the old .appeals to unreason, which had disappeared with party politics came tumbling out again. Before many days had passed, the country was alight with hatred and ripe for violence. For several days Kate Green had heard and seen nothing of John, and she was very worried. She had tried to get him on the tele several times, but there was never anyone at home but the maids, it seemed, when she tried. She did not like to ring too often, for fear that Mr. Gordon's thin, disapproving face would be the reply, and she knew that John would not like her to him at the Research Blocks. °

Uneasily, she wandered through the gardens of her Hertfordshire home, looking up now and again as some 'plane or gyro buzzed by, hoping against hope that it might be John's. But it was no use. They were all of them too high up, in the passenger lanes. °

She strolled aimlessly back to the sunverandah, where her grandfather sat, his hands folded contentedly over his paunch. Old Mr. Green was very fat and very lazv.

'Kate," said the old man accusingly, "you've been listening to the culture talks from London. You know how the family disapprove. City propaganda, that s all it is. In our part, it's work itself that is the reason, and pleasure ju>t an excuse; a chance to prepare oneself for fresh effort, what!"

"I'erha |>s. I suppose it's because working on the land is different from just machine-minding in a factory, or doing something automatic all the time."

"\ou bet your sweet life it is. That's what they won't understand. But mark my words, they'll know better before long. 1 hey ve got an eye-opener coming to t'lein right enough." Kate moved away towards the house. Then a sudden thought struck her, and she turned back.

"Grandfather, what exactly do you mean bv that?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," grumbled the old man. Then he grinued, wickedly and confidentially. "But I shouldn't be surprised if you had to find yourself a new beau one of these days." She conquered her momentary dislike of this old man, her relation, who was so different. After all, he was her flesh and blood, and that, she had always been taught, meant more than anything.

"Grandfather," she pleaded, "this is important to me. What were you talking about just then?"

"Well, old bean," said the gross old creature, with a bland smile, "I heard your brother and your cousin talking this morning. They didn't know I had my ears flapping. He-he! And they said there was going to be no come-and-go between London and the country when they had their way, but first of all they were going to show the Londoners what was what, and give them the surprise of their lives."

"What did they mean, grandfather?" "I don't know, but they seemed very aerious about it all, yes, very serious . . Kate left hifn chuntering to himself in the sun, and ran indoors. In the coolness of the hall, B he stood for a moment thinking, and then ran up to her own room. With a sudden decisiveness she flung open the buili-in cupboard, took out her personal papers (without which it was not permitted to travel out of the Country State), flung one or two of her unused garments in their sealed packets into a light case, and picked up the house-telephone from her bedside.

She b witched herself through to the local granary headquarters": "Hullo, is that Mr. Allan? Is that Mr. Allan? Oh, Mr. Allan, is there a grain lorry going up to the London collecting station to-day?" "Yes, of course, Miss Green. Why? Anything I can do?" "Would you be so good as to ask the transport man to call in and speak to me on his way down ?" "Certainly, Miss Green." Kate hung up, picked up her case, and went downstairs. She slipped it into the hall cupboard as she paesed, and went out on to the verandah: "Oh, grandfather, if the transportman calls, would you tell him that I had to go out, and that what I wanted can wait till to-morrow?"

"0.K., sure!" said the old man, and let his many chins relapse once more on his chest.

Kate tip-toed back, grabbed her case, and went out by the side door. Between it and the gate was a small shrubbery, where years before she and her brother had played Abyssinians and Italians.

Among the evergreens she crouched, trembling with excitement and waited what appeared an eternity till she heard the lorry's ancient klaxon.

Then, as the footsteps of the driver sounded on the asphalt drive she blundered through the bushes, tearing her light, dress as she ran, and came out on to the roadway, where the lorry stood.

. The faint ticking of ite motor indicated that it had been left for a moment only. With a quick glance round, she pressed the button that opened the sliding shutters at the back - , and scrambled in among the giant tins of grain.

(To B* Continued.)