Fidel - 22. Doctor Wellniss Demonstrates

The house lights dimmed and an amber spotlight played on the blue curtains, which parted just enough to reveal Penelope in a spotlessly white doctor’s coat, neat little cap on curly blonde hair, a multitude of tinkling bracelets, several gold necklaces, drop earrings, baby-doll makeup, and her trademark white, ankle-snapping high-heeled shoes. She was standing beside a tall, ornately carved, polished wood cabinet containing several cupboards and drawers and shelves with flasks of coloured liquid. Behind it, the stage was impenetrably black.

A disturbing, almost diabolical smile played across the doctor’s lips as she carefully inspected and arranged several dangerous looking knives and other instruments, including an enormous syringe with a long, sharp needle. She looked up, apparently surprised at seeing the tittering audience.

‘Have you heard the news?’ she gasped, putting a hand to her mouth and giggling like a silly schoolgirl. ‘We’re getting five new naked noble savages and I tested them all yesterday—extensively!’ She stopped to take a deep breath and giggle. ‘And they're healthy—I posted a positive report.’ She stopped abruptly. ‘But,’ she rested an anguished hand on her heart as her face dissolved into misery. ‘Several noble residents said they don’t trust me to check properly! Can you believe it? Moi. Doctor Wellniss. Not trusted! They demanded to know exactly how I tested.’ She sniffed her sadness, then managed a brave smile. ‘As you all know, I’m an easy person…’ She paused to allow the audience to agree, but they laughed instead. ‘I never take offence!’ she snarled, angrily, ‘so to allay all those pathetic, irrational fears about my competence I will demonstrate my procedures tonight!’

Cheers and applause.

‘An in depth survey of the first five people I encountered after leaving my house this evening, revealed that the five major concerns regarding naked savages are: do they carry unknown diseases? Are they strong and fit enough to do the work required. Do they understand their social position? If they are invited into homes, is it safe to let them sit down? And is it safe for Noble Residents to have sex with them?’

During the laughter, Perses, also in a white doctor’s coat, arranged five collapsible chairs a few metres to the left of his mother.

‘Get the savages, Perses. Don’t keep the audience waiting.’

‘Ok, Ok… don’t get your knickers in a twist.’

‘I can’t…’ She giggled insanely. ‘I'm not wearing any.’ To cheers and stamping of feet she raised her coat to prove it.

Perses waved to someone off stage and the five applicants jogged in, bowed and took their seats. They looked cheerful enough, but were feeling inordinately nervous. This wasn’t like the gymnasium! There they were in control—here they weren't. They’d seen the health test results and been told they had the jobs, so this was supposed to be pure fun, but it suddenly felt very important that they made the audience laugh. That they didn’t make fools of themselves. But they'd only had one rehearsal. Compounding stage fright, the audience of nearly two hundred superbly dressed men, women and young people appeared to be stacked almost vertically; a wall of faces, mouths, eyes and bodies scrutinising, assessing. The men had taken great care with their appearance; shaved, trimmed, scrubbed and polished. At Hercules’ suggestion, Hylas had removed all scrappy bits of body and facial hair leaving him seamless, and Robert had got rid of the beard that had always itched. They knew they had never looked better, but even so…would the noble residents, as they loved to be called, find them interesting and attractive enough?

‘You,’ Penelope pointed at Bart. ‘Come here.’

Bart stood and looked around as if unsure whether to obey or run for his life, so Penelope marched over and, to guffaws of delight from the audience, took a firm hold of his penis and led him into position beside the cabinet, maintaining her grip as if frightened he’d run away.

‘Tell the noble residents your name.’

‘Bart.’

‘Very good, Bart. I am going to show my critics how I tested your blood for pathogens.’

‘What… now?’

‘Yes. I’ll just take a little blood. Are you nervous?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Good. Perses! Blood extraction apparatus!’

Perses took from the cabinet a glass bowl and a large needle attached to a clear plastic tube.

Penelope released Bart’s manhood, which had dramatically appreciated in size, and wrapped a band around his upper arm. Perses passed her the needle and placed the end of the tube in the glass bowl on the floor. Penelope felt the tip of the huge needle, smiled wickedly and licked her lips.

‘That looks awfully big,’ Bart said nervously. ‘It wasn’t that big last night.’

‘And neither was that!’ Penelope giggled, giving his erection a playful tap. ‘If we use the small one the audience won’t be able to see it, will they?’

‘I suppose not.’

‘Now, stand still and relax. It won’t hurt a bit.’ She pulled her arm back as if ready to hurl a javelin, then thrust the needle into Bart’s vein, securing it with tape. Almost immediately blood began to flow down the tube and into the bowl.

‘See? Didn’t hurt a bit, did it?’

Bart was swaying in shock, eyes wide, mouth agape.

Penelope rubbed her hands and spoke to the tittering audience. ‘While we’re taking a little of Bart’s lovely red blood, let’s have the next victim… I mean patient.’

Perses led Fidel by the hand to Penelope, who rubbed her hand through his chest hair.

‘Mmm… A veritable satyr; no wonder they had to pry a lusting young lass off you in the swimming pool this afternoon.’

Fidel was staring in confusion at Bart who had sagged to his knees and was in the process of toppling sideways in a faint. The audience was shouting warnings between laughs. With a cry of despair, Fidel pushed Penelope away and held Bart upright under the arms, while Perses ran backstage to fetch a strong-looking box. Fidel sat Bart on it, supporting him while staring in disbelief at the blood still draining into the bowl.

‘How dare you interfere with…’

Perses tapped his mother on the arm and pointed at the blood now overflowing the bowl onto the stage.

Penelope threw up her hands and giggled. ‘Oh silly me, I'm always forgetting to turn things off. I suppose I’d better put some back.’ She pulled out the needle and tube and passed them to Perses. ‘Get rid of these and bring me the Syringe!’

Perses handed her a syringe as large as a litre milk bottle, with a needle to match, which she filled with blood by sucking it from the bowl. Then while Fidel held Bart’s head firmly, she thrust the needle into his jugular vein and pressed the plunger. As the blood was squeezed back into him, Bart began to revive. After the second refill, he stood. Wobbled a bit. Smiled and gazed around vaguely.

Penelope held up the bowl to inspect the remaining blood, nodded satisfaction, and then accepted a flask containing white powder from Perses. After tipping the contents into the blood she gave it a stir with her finger. It turned from red to black.

‘Eureka!’ She shouted, displaying the bowl to the audience. ‘A perfect result. The change from red to black proves Bart is free of every disease known to mankind, as well as several others!’ After placing the bowl in the cupboard she turned a winning smile on Bart.

‘How do you feel?’

‘A bit woozy.’

‘Better keep propping him up then, Fidel,’ she advised. ‘Are you up to answering a few questions, Bart?’

‘I think so.’

‘What’s your take on the seven deadly sins?’

‘They’re a religious guilt trip.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The word ‘sin’ means behaviour displeasing to a God—an entity I reckon doesn't exist.’

‘So the so-called deadly sins are not bad after all?’

‘Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth are nothing but emotional terms for the natural behaviour that has enabled humans to survive. There’s nothing wrong with having pride in oneself, wanting to eat, improving one’s circumstances, enjoying sex, emulating others, getting angry, or having enough sleep. Problems only arise if people ignore the commonsense truism that more than enough is too much.’

‘For example?’

‘Eating too much is unhealthy, sex addiction is bad for relationships, aggression leads to physical conflict… that sort of thing.’

‘From what you’ve seen do you think the Noble Residents of Oasis are guilty of any of those… sins?’

‘No. Their feet seem to be firmly planted in reality. They enjoy natural human behaviour without guilt, and appear to have accepted that we all have to make the best of what we have, without crying for the moon.’

‘Thank you, Bart.’

Bart took a slight bow and, accompanied by applause, returned to his chair.

Penelope turned to Fidel who had been patiently waiting.

‘Are you strong, Fidel?’

‘Yes.’

‘Prove it by lifting Perses with one hand.’

Fidel frowned, placed a grinning Perses next to the box, stood on it himself, grasped the collar of Perses’ coat, and on the count of three, hoisted the youth into the air. Or he would have if Perses hadn't raised his arms allowing the coat to fly straight up and disappear into the darkness of the flies, leaving the slim, lightly bronzed son of the doctor standing in his birthday suit beside the box, a look of bemused surprise on his face.

‘Not very convincing, Fidel,’ Penelope sneered. ‘Anyone can toss a coat into the air.’

‘Where’s my coat?’ Perses complained.

‘You look better without it,’ Fidel grunted, scratching his head while considering the situation. ‘Got it,’ he muttered getting down from the box. ‘Make yourself streamlined like a rocket,’ he instructed, placing Perses’ hands together above his head. Then in one quick motion he grasped the youth’s ankles and gave an almighty heave. Perses shot straight up into the air and, like his coat, disappeared into the darkness above the stage.

Loud laughter, clapping and cheering.

‘Help!’ Perses shouted. ‘I’m falling back! Catch me, Fidel!’

Fidel held out his arms as two bare feet followed by legs and the lost body floated slowly down until Perses was cradled like a baby, gazing up in adoration at his saviour. Fidel kissed the youth’s forehead, carefully placed him on his feet, took a bow and rejoined his friends.

When the applause subsided, Penelope pointed at Hylas. ‘Perses! Get me that one.’

Hylas sprang from his chair, leaped off the stage and was halfway to the exit when Perses leaped onto his back and rode him like a horse back onto the stage, where he was unceremoniously dumped beside the cabinet and his mother, who smiled and patted Hylas on the head.

‘You're fast and strong, carrying Perses like that.’

‘He’s just a flea,’ Hylas shrugged dismissively.

‘But a useful one,’ Penelope murmured. Turning to the audience she stated firmly, ‘Fitness, strength and health require excellent reflexes and powerful lungs, and Hylas has volunteered to be tested.’

Hylas looked less than delighted, but was calmed by Perses, who resembled him remarkably. Both were lean, tall and sinewy, olive skinned, dark eyed and smooth. And although Hylas was obviously fitter and stronger, his face had a boyish innocence that suggested they might be almost the same age.

‘Sit on the box and cross your legs!’ the doctor commanded.

Hylas sat, placed his right leg over his left, and watched as Perses carefully balanced a basket of fruit on the raised foot.

‘I am going to test your reflexes, Hylas, Do you know what they are?’

‘They’re physical reactions that occur without conscious thought, like pulling your hand away from a hot fire.’

‘Exactly. Are you ready?’

‘I’m always ready.’

‘Penelope lightly tapped just under the kneecap of the crossed leg and Hylas’s foot jerked wildly sending the basket of fruit up into the air in a wide arc, to land without spilling it’s contents beside the other noble savages, who each took a piece of fruit and began eating.

Meanwhile Perses was worried. ‘Mum! There's something wrong with Hylas’s leg.’

The leg in question was stretched rigidly in front, and despite Perses’ best efforts it seemed there was no way to make it bend again.’

Penelope pushed her son aside. ‘This requires surgical intervention.’ Picking up a scalpel she inspected the leg thoughtfully. ‘All it requires is a quick slice through the tendon.’ She indicated the spot.

‘And then he’ll be fine?’

‘Of course!’

‘The leg will bend?’

‘Of course… but he won’t be able to walk again. No pain no gain.’

As she raised the scalpel the knee bent and the audience cheered.

‘Now, lets see if your lungs are as good as your reflexes,’ the doctor said briskly. ‘Perses! The tube.’

From the cabinet, Perses produced an inner tube from a tyre. But not an ordinary car tyre, this one must have come from a very large truck.

‘I want you to demonstrate your lung capacity by blowing just one breath into the tube, Hylas. When you're ready.’

Hylas took a huge breath, put his lips to the valve and blew. Within seconds the tube expanded until it seemed on the point of bursting. Yet still Hylas blew and still it expanded until the quivering black rubber took on an almost translucent hue and became seriously deformed. ‘Stop, stop!’ Penelope shouted cowering back in terror. ‘It’s going to explode!’

‘Hylas removed the valve from his mouth and frowned as the air escaped with a loud whistle. ‘But I haven't finished the breath.’

‘Never mind that. You get ten ticks for not blowing the place up. Now go back to your friends and send Robert to me.’

Robert stood, yawned, then sauntered across and leaned on the cabinet. ‘Nice tits, Penny,’ he grinned with a cheeky wink, undoing the top button of her coat to expose her right breast, which he stroked gently.’

Penelope glared at him. ‘Don’t call me Penny.’

What'll I call you then? Cent?’

The doctor pursed her lips. ‘You are nothing more than an uncivilized, naked savage!’

Robert gazed forlornly out at the audience, ‘She’s right… I feel a right tit.’ He sniffed, and pushed it back into the coat, causing a button to fall off and both breasts to pop out. After pushing at them ineffectually several times, he shrugged and gave up. ‘I apologise, fair lady, I cannot keep abreast of this problem. What should I do?’

‘Shut up, sit still and treat me with the respect due to a Noble Resident and eminent doctor while I demonstrate the testing of blood pressure and heart rate. Perses! The heart monitor.’

Perses attached a band around Robert’s chest that was connected to a loudspeaker and digital display. When he flicked a switch, everyone could hear the drumbeat of Robert’s heart and see the rate displayed on a screen. Currently it was fifty-four beats per minute.

‘Now do twenty star jumps,’ the doctor commanded.’

Robert obeyed, with the predictable result between his legs, but the unpredicted result that his heartbeat slowed to twenty-seven beats per minute.

‘Do twenty press ups!’ Penelope instructed.

The heartbeats slowed until they stopped completely at the twentieth and the display showed a zero. Robert stood up breathing easily, not having raised a sweat.

Penelope tapped the screen, but nothing changed, then she leaned over Robert to check the instruments. Robert put his head forward and sucked on a nipple. Penelope appeared not to notice, instead she removed the band and wrapped it around her son’s chest. Immediately the sound of a strongly beating heart filled the theatre, at the rate of sixty beats per minute.

‘Ah!’ Penelope said in disgust. ‘You are too vulgar to even have a heartbeat. Quite frankly, you are pissing me off. Which leads me to your next test; I need a urine sample. ‘Perses! Bring the urine sample flask!’

The audience, which had been laughing constantly, clapped and stamped their feet as Robert filled the flask, then the blood bowl, and was rapidly filling the bucket with pale yellow liquid when Penelope tied a bright yellow ribbon around Robert’s penis and pulled it tight, cutting off the flow.

‘Get out! Get out!’ She screamed. ‘You're rude, stupid, heartless and keep taking the piss. This is a serious demonstration… oh what shall I do.’ She sank onto the box in tears. Robert pulled her gently to her feet, removed the yellow ribbon, stroked her hair and said sweetly as he tied it around a lock of her hair, ‘I apologise, doctor, I was rendered stupid by your beauty which is enough to drive a man mad with desire.’ He pulled her head back, fondled her breasts and kissed her on the lips while the audience clapped and called encouragement.

Penelope gazed into his eyes. ‘Am I really beautiful enough to make men mad?’

‘Am I not clinically insane?’

‘Yes.’

‘There’s your proof, doctor.’

Penelope’s smile was beatific. ‘Thank you, Robert. No one has ever said such a nice thing to me. You must come to dinner soon.’

Eyes rolling in relief, Robert retreated to his chair.

The doctor looked at her watch. ‘Goodness, time’s running out. Here, boy.’ She patted her thigh and Arnold came running up like a pet dog.

‘Arnold, Some people are worried that if you noble savages sit down on their best chairs, you’ll leave your personal, perfumed stamp on the furniture. What have you to say to that?’

‘We won’t, because we’re meticulous about hygiene and are constantly checking, and we also have a secret weapon.’

‘Sounds exciting, what’s that?’

‘We strengthen our sphincters with daily exercises until they're so tight nothing can get either in or out—unless we want.’

‘Do you mind demonstrating?’

‘What? The tightness of my sphincter?’

‘The cleanliness. We’ll take the other claim on trust.’ She addressed the audience. ‘But if in doubt, noble residents, provide a small towel, it will embarrass no one.’ Turning back to Arnold. ‘Well, young man? Let the noble residents judge your hygienic standards.’

Arnold shrugged at the audience in resignation, then knelt facing the audience with his bum in the air. Penelope held what looked like a gigantic magnifying glass behind him and the image was projected on the screen. At first slightly out of focus, it resolved into what looked remarkably like tightly pursed lips which twitched slightly, then parted and opened to reveal a set of sharp white teeth before the sphincter drew tightly closed once more.

When the laughter subsided, Penelope continued. ‘As you can see, noble residents, this sphincter is spotless and in perfect condition, not even the suggestion of a haemorrhoid, not a whiff of gas, not a particle of excrement.’ She gave his cheeks a resounding slap. ‘You can place this bottom on my furniture any time you wish, Arnold.’

Arnold stood and smiled modestly. ‘Thank you, Penelope.’

‘My pleasure. Now for the final test—a sperm count.’

‘You want me to masturbate?’

‘How else are you going to produce a sample? Surely you’re not shy.’

‘Of course I’m not shy, just not sure I can oblige. But I’ll give it my best shot, being always delighted to come to the aid of a fair damsel.’

Groans at the puerile pun.

With casual ease and gentlemanly grace, Arnold arranged himself sexily on the box, played with the family jewels for a few seconds then gazed out at the audience, clearly distraught. ‘Apologies, all. It seems this member of the family is shy in front of an audience.’

‘Stuff and nonsense!’ snapped Penelope. ‘You're just attention seeking. Perses! Help this flaccid savage to perform.’

With a resigned shrug and audible sigh at having yet another task to perform, Perses knelt beside Arnold and with delicate fingers brought the recalcitrant member to attention. ‘Shall I finish off, or do you want to do it yourself?’

‘It’s obviously on better terms with your hands than mine, so go for it.’

‘Demonstrating a natural aptitude for the task, Perses soon had Arnold leaning back in ecstasy while the doctor hovered with a large plate, ready to catch the precious fluid. After a low groan from the depths of his being, Arnold arched his back in violent spasm and shot at least a litre of thick creamy stuff into the air. Penelope caught it in the centre of the plate where it glistened and wobbled slightly like a large creamy blancmange.

‘Bull’s-eye!’ she crowed, to cheers of approval, then scraped a little off onto a glass slide and placed it under a microscope attached to a video camera and monitor. The audience leaned forward to see the result.

At low magnification millions of tiny wriggling objects covered the screen.

‘You have a potent brew, Arnold. Let’s ramp up the magnification.’

As the objects grew ever larger, so did the wonderment of the observers when they realised the cute little wriggling sperms that had seemed so inoffensive, in reality had scales, legs, claws, snouts and teeth. Sharp little teeth with which they were snapping and chewing at each other.

‘Take careful note, boys and girls,’ the doctor warned with a waggling finger. ‘If you permit Arnold to inject this stuff into your sensitive places you will experience a novel sensation.’

Amid friendly laughter she switched off the monitor, turned to the audience and nodded her head graciously.

‘I hope, fellow Noble Residents, that any doubts you might have had about employing these five noble savages, have been laid to rest.

A portly gentleman well beyond middle age clambered onto the stage.

‘Thanks Penelope, Perses, Bart, Robert, Fidel, Arnold and Hylas for a most amusing insight into the world of medicine. I look forward to seeing you all on stage again. But first, please give us a brief outline of the diversions you might offer us mere mortals.’ He moved to the side of the stage while the five newcomers listed the activities they thought might entertain and be useful to the residents, making it clear they would welcome suggestions for changes and other activities.

The portly gentleman then reminded them that their appointment had to be validated by a unanimous vote. Turning to the audience he stated clearly, ‘Will those who object to the appointment of these five men as noble savages to work with Hercules, Zadig and Mort, please stand.’

‘No one stood.’

The man smiled and shook their hands. ‘I’m Harold, current Chairman of the body Corporate. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to Oasis. Before we all gather for refreshments, however, I want to invite all residents and savages to a Welcome to Oasis Ball to be held in the Hercules Room tomorrow evening—dress formal.’

The house lights came on and the audience joined the actors and backstage crew—Hercules, Zadig and Mort, for drinks and savouries. Everyone wanted to talk to the eight savages, who were plied with food, questioned and complimented on both performance and appearance all evening.

Arnold cornered Perses. ‘How old are you?’

‘Fifteen.’

‘Where did you learn such sexual proficiency?’

‘A teacher at school.’

‘Did he…’

‘No, I did. Six months ago. I told him how I felt, and after thinking about it he discovered I was irresistible.’

‘Do your parents know?’

‘Of course. They met him at a school open day, and we’ve all been to his house for a meal. He’s twenty-four and I stay with him if there’s something on at school in the evenings. We’re going to share a place together when I leave high school.’

Penelope and Aristo, curious at the seriousness of the conversation came to stand protectively beside their son. ‘Perses and Reza share similar ideas, values and physical attraction,’ Aristo said quietly. ‘Penelope and I are in our late forties. We worry about the future. Perses will need a good friend to rely on, and we are convinced Reza is the one. There are very few people one would willingly share one’s life with, so when you find someone, grab them and hang on—as I think you have done with Fidel. At fifteen, young men know very well what they want, and if trusted will choose wisely.’

‘And we are thrilled he will not be breeding,’ Penelope added.

‘Wise of you; I wasn’t being nosy, only concerned.’

‘We understand, and your concern proves how right we are to employ men like you as guardians—because in effect that's what you are—guardians of our sanctuary, our sanity, health and pleasure.’ Aristo shook hands, patted Arnold on the shoulder, and they moved on to speak with others, leaving him with a warm glow in his chest.

An hour later they were gathered in Hercules’ sitting room, discussing Oasis and its inhabitants.

‘The changes I've noticed here in the last two years are troubling.’ Mort frowned and looked to Hercules and Zadig for confirmation.

‘Mort’s right. Since JECHIS reared its ugly head our carefree bunch of insanely rich people have become nervous, irritable and only with difficulty able to appear as relaxed as they have since you arrived.’

Zadig laughed. ‘You guys thought you were being judged tonight; whereas they were worried you'd judge them severely and not want to stay. Hercules’ initial recommendation was sufficient to have you appointed. Tonight’s show was a fun formality, which you executed with élan. It was a great show.’

‘Thanks to you guys for doing all the clever stuff backstage.’

‘Our pleasure.’

‘So,’ Bart asked, ‘What's the problem?’

‘There are one hundred and ninety eight residents comprised of forty-one retirees, of which twenty-eight are female and thirteen male, aged from sixty-two to seventy-nine. Ninety-eight other adults, forty-nine of each sex, aged between thirty-six and forty-eight. They’ve spawned fifty-nine children of whom thirty-three are females and twenty-six male. The youngest child is a twelve year-old boy, the oldest a seventeen year-old girl. Until JECHIS arrived, all the kids were at school during the day, and the adults at work or amusing themselves in the city, leaving only retirees, few of whom bothered to go to the city. So our work was easy; fitness groups before breakfast, tennis and suchlike for the women who stayed home, and cards and dancing and walks etc for the retirees. Now, only forty men still go to work, and twenty-five boys to school. Women and girls seldom leave the place, and neither do the retirees—too frightened. That means we have one hundred and thirty-three people hanging around Oasis all day every day, one hundred and twenty of whom are female! Most are bored out of their minds and starting to get on each other’s nerves, and several marriages are heading for the rocks, unless...’

‘Unless we can make their lives fun and interesting?’ Fidel’s face reflected his doubt.

‘I think you're guilty of withholding facts that might have had a bearing on our acceptance of your offer, Mort,’ Robert said seriously.

‘If you'd known the facts,’ Zadig asked, ‘would you have refused?’ ‘

‘Of course not; I was joking.’

‘It’s going to make it more interesting’ Hylas declared with the nodded assent of the others. ‘We won’t be just baby-sitters, we’ll actually have something useful to do.’

‘Yeah,’ Arnold added. ‘I can’t wait to get started.’

‘Is the Hercules Room anything to do with you, Hercules?’

‘It sure is,’ Mort laughed. ‘As you’ve noticed, public spaces are all in the style of ancient Greek or Rome, and there are statues of gods in the theatre and elsewhere. Oasis boasts two large spaces, one for informal social activities, and one for formal gatherings. The first is simply called the Assembly Room. Years ago when he was an escort, Hercules won the title of Cairns most desirable gigolo. Archie, my father, remembered that and for a joke commissioned a bronze miniature of him and placed it in a niche above the main entrance. From then on it’s been called the Hercules Room. If you look on the base you can see the inscription.’

‘Did you really win that title?’

‘It was an advertising stunt by the escort agency I sometimes worked for. Archie thought it such a joke he immortalised it.’

‘It’s a damned good likeness, though,’ Zadig said cheerfully. ‘Now our Hercules has joined the pantheon of the gods—deservedly.’

‘Indeed,’ Mort added.

After a night of sleep and sex, and a day in which the new men became acquainted with more of the ins and outs of Oasis and most of the residents, the formal Ball in the superb classical ambience of the Hercules Room did not disappoint. One hundred and ninety-eight residents in their finest apparel gathered in chatty clusters between columns and arches, leaned against elegant balustrades on the vine-draped terrace, and posed self-consciously beside sculptures of naked classical gods and goddesses, including the remarkable likeness to Hercules, which the new men admired.

While females jealously eyed each other’s corsage, décolleté, jewels and gown, men in starched fronts, white ties and tails, patent leather shoes and discreet buttonholes, discussed the latest political reports, the strange weather, their cars and bank accounts. The four children younger than fourteen were already eating from a small buffet, while the teenagers, impatient to start dancing, were already groping and giggling.

At eight o'clock precisely, the Master of Ceremonies called everyone to attention, welcomed the five newcomers who looked serene, healthy, alert and more comfortable in their skins than their hosts in their finery, and, as was customary, asked Hercules to take his partner for the first dance. Not customary was Hercules’ choice of Hylas as dancing partner, but frowns became smiles of awe when their dance proved to be a tour de force of strength, agility and grace, thanks to a practice that afternoon to a recording of the waltz. So enthralled were the onlookers that the MC allowed them to complete three circuits of the floor before calling on everyone else to join them.

Lifelike papier-mâché sculptures of a five-man orchestral ensemble, sat on a tiny stage while a state of the art sound system played waltzes, tangos, quick-steps, the veleta, rumbas… all dances favoured by the afternoon-tea dancers. The music was cheerful, not loud enough to inhibit conversation, and popular. The savages danced every dance with different partners, both young and old, bringing healthy blushes to every female cheek. The ambience was pleasantly exciting, as far from the heart-stopping beat, crush and insanity of the Brisbane discos as it is possible to conceive.

The residents had come to Oasis to be healthy as well as exceptional, and achieved both aims by heeding health warnings. In consensus decisions they had banned humanity’s most addictive and pernicious drugs, alcohol and smoking, from the entire estate. Thus social gatherings were always delightful, relaxing, friendly and refreshing and no one woke with a sore head. The revelry ended at midnight and, as was customary, it was declared the best ball ever.

The following morning at ten o'clock, every resident who was not at work or school, was sitting on grassy terraces beneath a large shade tree, waiting for the eight young men sprawled over the grass at their feet to tell them what to do. All looked remarkably fresh and exceedingly well dressed—albeit less formal than the previous evening.

Hercules got to his feet, grateful for the tradition that permitted noble savages to speak their minds, with direct honesty; it always saved a lot of time.

‘Many residents of all ages, especially females, have lately become depressed, bitchy and unpleasant,’ he stated bluntly. ‘Some of you are wondering why you bother staying here and if it might be better to risk living in the outside world. We understand your frustration and feelings and have worked out ways we reckon will improve things. Bart will set the ball rolling.’ He sprawled back on the grass, as if it wasn’t his problem and he was unconcerned about the outcome of the meeting.

Bart in the sunshine looked younger than inside; radiating trustworthiness and decency—the sort of man who doesn't seek approval; therefore others seek his.

‘Life may be getting dull for females here,’ he said gravely, ‘however I strongly advise women and girls against trying to live outside Oasis. Here you can associate with whomever you wish. Out there, you may not leave the house unless accompanied by a male relative. Here you can run naked if you want. There only your face and hands may be uncovered. You're bored and feeling trapped and useless. What do you think every female outside of Oasis is feeling? These emotions are natural—in fact I’d be concerned if you weren't feeling this way. Fortunately, the solution is simple and can start today if you follow our advice.’

A rustling of interest, amusement, and mutterings of disbelief.

‘As soon as you return home after this meeting, give your servants excellent references, at least a month’s wages, more if you can afford it, and dismiss them with grateful thanks, telling them you're moving away permanently from Oasis.’ He paused. ‘Will any of you have a problem doing that?’

A raised hand. Bart nodded.

‘I’m having a dinner party tonight, as you know, seeing you and Robert are invited. What am I expected to do?’

Bart shrugged incomprehension. ‘Can’t you cook?’

‘Of course I can, but…’

‘But you prefer to let others have the pleasure of creating meals, serving your family and being useful. That’s very noble of you, Moira, but isn't it time your generosity was directed towards yourself. Don’t you think you also have the right to invent and prepare meals, serve people you like and admire, and be useful to others?’

‘Of course… but…’

‘I’ll bet your servant/cook has not felt useless, bored or unable to sleep while working for you. Well, now it’s your turn to have a raison d’être.’ He gazed around, eyes challenging. ‘Is there anyone here who will not handsomely reward and dismiss their servant after this meeting, so that they can also enjoy the pleasures of an active, useful and inventive life?’

‘What about us? We’re in our seventies. Some of the housework is getting too much.’

‘Close off all the rooms you don’t use frequently, and when you have a genuine need for assistance in either house or garden, employ one of the residents. The opportunity for a girl to find paid employment outside Oasis is zero, so you’ll be inundated with offers.’

‘But we’re rich! We can afford servants; it seems stupid not to have them.’

‘The problem with riches is they promise what they can’t give. We’re told that money will bring happiness because we can buy anything, even other humans to work for us. But as you’ve experienced, that leads to boredom, ennui and irritability, not to mention worry about losing it. As for servants, do you really like having a stranger in your house listening to everything you say, watching your every move? How do you know he’s not a JECHIS spy? Wouldn’t you prefer to have privacy?

Several people began to speak, stopped, thought, then whispered to their neighbours. Bart allowed the hubbub to continue for a few minutes, then called the meeting to attention.

‘In the absence of further discussion, I’ll assume you have all decided to take control of your lives and will start doing so the minute you arrive home after this meeting.’

To a mumbled chorus of bemused agreement, Bart bestowed a smile that rewarded their decision and warmed their hearts, then lay back beside Hercules, his place being taken by Mort.

‘I want to congratulate every one of you for coping so well with the changes forced on us by JECHIS. Unfortunately, like the changing climate it is a permanent fixture, so we have to make permanent changes to the way we think about ourselves and our place in the world. For most of human existence people have lived in communities no bigger than ours, with fewer conveniences. Are we less than our ancestors? I don’t think so. Being responsible for our own shelter and food is essential, as is taking charge of our emotions. My grandmother told me that when she was young, people got rid of negative emotions by uttering primordial screams until their anger, frustration, disappointment or whatever was troubling them, evaporated—or they became hoarse. We have a better solution than that; we have the theatre where we share our ideas without restraint or censure. I’d like to expand this so there’s a performance every night of very short plays, monologues, songs, poems, dances…in which the writers/composers explore their personal fantasies, frustrations, and emotions. I’d like each one of you to compose pieces to be performed by others, permitting the audience to learn what other residents are feeling, and the actors to experience other people’s emotions. I hope that when the writer sees other people apparently in his or her situation, the different perspective will help them to see solutions to what now seem to be intractable problems.’

‘Like my fear that I’ll never have a lover or sex because girls outnumber boys here, and some of them are gay.’ The teenaged girl’s voice broke slightly. ‘I might be able to bear not having a baby, but never to be fucked by a lover?’ She stopped suddenly, sniffed bravely, then dissolved into tears, unable to be consoled by motherly caresses.

‘That sort of thing, yes.’

‘That sounds embarrassing; do we have to put our names on them?’

‘Let’s put it to the meeting.’

After a short discussion it was unanimously decided that the author of each presentation would remain anonymous, to permit total honesty.

‘Are there any restrictions on content?’

‘There never has been before, so why start now?’

‘I just wondered because some of the ideas in my head go well beyond anything presented so far.’

‘Yeah, me too.’

‘Let’s leave it to the actors; which means you. If an actor thinks he or she is unable to play the role, then that’s all the censorship required. I’ll direct the shows and guarantee the author’s anonymity.’

Fidel replaced Mort, smiling shyly, making every woman over the age of thirty want to stroke and take care of him.

‘Entropy,’ he said with a sad shake of his head. ‘Even the best of buildings need repairs and maintenance. We have to stop relying on others to maintain things. We’re not dumb animals. Things humans have made can be repaired and maintained by humans, so I reckon it’s not only household servants we should dispense with, but also the cleaning and maintenance guys who come every night. Hercules has agreed to terminate all cleaning and maintenance contracts, if all of us are prepared to do the work ourselves. There’s a job for everyone and many hands make light work. Repairing a window, or sweeping leaves is good exercise, gives a sense of achievement, and improves our knowledge of our environment. If you all agree I’ll make a roster of regular duties, taking into consideration a person’s age. I’d also appreciate the names of anyone who’d like to be on call for urgent repairs.’ He shook his head as if to dislodge an idea. Frowned, looked up and grinned. ‘Can’t think of anything else. Any questions?’

‘I gather you'll be in charge of maintenance?’

‘No, no! I'm in charge of nothing. Oasis belongs to you residents, so all of you are in charge, by keeping an eye out for leaking taps, roofs, broken tiles, jammed doors, wobbly handrails… that sort of thing, then letting me know. I’ll just be the coordinator. With a self-deprecatory smile he returned to his seat and Arnold stepped up, causing everyone to unconsciously sit straighter, open their eyes wider and smile slightly to gain the attention of this superbly symmetrical being whose performance on stage had almost every resident in love/lust with his body, flawless skin, dark beard and eyebrows, flashing eyes, tight sphincter, sublime ejaculations and shock of straight, black hair. The sigh from almost every chest was audible. Arnold, unaware of the fluttering hearts and languid lust he inspired from male and female alike, grinned innocently and charmed the more.

‘Health,’ he said seriously. ‘Body and mind. Mens sana in corpore sano. Whoever walks, or runs around the boundary every day will soon become so fit it will seem easy. It’s the same with your decision to look after your own comfort and survival instead of employing others. At first it’ll seem a strain, then suddenly it’ll be like breathing. A healthy body makes for a healthy mind that sloughs off useless thoughts. The best part of Oasis is the nature, and I’m going to assist Zadig with the increasing burden of forest maintenance, replanting, and weed control, as well as the formal plantings. I hope some of you will also give us a hand and also be creative with the design and maintenance of the ornamental gardens that help to make Oasis such a paradise. There’s also a need for people to work in a nursery to raise new plants. Like Fidel, I'm not in charge of anything, but if you tell me your ideas, I’ll help organise their execution.’ With a self-conscious smile he strolled back to lie on the grass with the others.

Robert replaced him. ‘I’d like everyone to take up dancing and vegetable gardening, he said with an infectious grin that set everyone laughing. Yeah, it sounds an odd combination, but gardening requires stooping, bending and lifting, so tends to tighten up some muscle groups, while dancing loosens them and puts aching joints back into place.’

‘What sort of dancing?’

‘Folk, ballroom, creative. I reckon we should have an Afternoon Tea Dance every evening before dinner in the Hercules Room. The Savages will all endeavour to be there to assist the remaining men to partner the ladies, but of course there’s a long tradition of women dancing with each other, which is good. As for gardening, we should be able to become self-sufficient in most vegetables and fruits. I want to divide unused cleared areas into allotments to be shared, or worked individually—whatever suits. No competition, just useful exercise and edible fun to be shared. I’d also like to complement Mort's self defence lessons with discussions about other ways of keeping yourself safe from unwanted attention, and strengthening the entire body through wrestling.’

‘Girls too.’

‘Certainly! Girls benefit greatly from an activity that uses virtually every muscle in the body.’

‘Will you be wrestling with us?’

‘Of course, just like I dance with you. Wrestling’s sort of hard dancing.’ Robert’s roguish, sexy grin made every woman decide to take up wrestling. ‘I’ll set these activities up and keep you all posted.’

Slender, youthful Hylas; twenty but looking sixteen. He frowned nervously and every girl decided then and there she would kiss him one day. ‘I finished year twelve,’ he said diffidently, ‘and then things happened. But I discovered at the gym that I like to teach, so I’d like to help with teaching girls who no longer go to school. And I also learned to cook when I was a kid, and to clean our house, so if anyone wants a few tips on easy cleaning after the servants go, and some easy recipes, then ask me. And if any older person would like to go for a walk but needs a companion, ask me. I’m skinny but strong. And Fidel’s an excellent drawer, and I love it too, so if anyone’s interested we’d like to start art classes.’ He stopped, embarrassed and was joined by Bart who draped an arm affectionately across his shoulders.

‘Hylas is a very useful young man. He cooked up the best rat stew I've ever eaten a while ago…’ Everyone laughed. ‘Please bear in mind that we five newcomers are only putting out ideas, not laying down rules. You are the chiefs, we’re the Indians. Please don’t mistake our keenness for bossiness. We’re not pushy pricks trying to take over the place. We accepted Mort’s offer because at first sight we loved Oasis and our social position. Believe me, that’s one thing I really do not want to change! I honestly love being a savage. Ideally, I wouldn’t change anything—but change is forced upon us. Perhaps one day we might have philosophy discussions, a reading group, musical listening and a bridge group. Meanwhile, I’ll be general dogsbody assisting all the others if needed, available to you if needed.’ He smiled and returned with Hylas to the grass.

‘Well, that's plenty to think about for now,’ Hercules said briskly. ‘I’ll put the suggestions on the board for you to think about and discuss with your husbands and sons when they return. As always, if you're interested in anything, put your name on the list in my office.’

‘Is there a minimum number of people required for an activity?’

Hercules shrugged. ‘Can’t see why. We’re all individuals, so one person is just as important as twenty. If someone’s available and one person is interested then it goes ahead.’

‘Meanwhile,’ Mort added, coming to stand beside Hercules, ‘be strong. Get rid of everything in your life that doesn't contribute directly to your peace, health and happiness… and stand on your own two feet by saying goodbye to your servants.