ISSUE 5 - 1975

cover size 296 x 210 mm

EDITORIAL NOTE

This is our fifth publication, made possible by the generosity of donors whose contributions we acknowledge elsewhere. A comment from the editors may not be out of place. we still receive twice as many contributions in verse as come to us in prose: and we welcome the chance of receiving whatever friends may send us: but we have on this occasion deliberately included a greater proportion of prose pieces. We have done this for a number of reasons: firstly because it is in prose that a critical note can be struck, and we have received some direct criticism of "Voices" and its aims, with which we do not agree, but which may well open a discussion. 

For reasons of economy we have been less generous with our spacing and margins, and hope to contain the same amount of material in the present 48 pages as filled 60 previously. 

At the bottom of this page we have given guidelines as to how future contributions should be sent to us. As contributions increase in number it is quite essential that writers co-operate in making our task manageable.

"The Record" organ of the Transport and General workers' Union, the "Morning Star" and "Comment" have all been helpful in noticing "Voices". We would welcome notices in all Trade Union publications and Labour movement papers. 

We think that the political stand of "Voices" is crystallising: we still want to make it as broad and catholic a publication as the Labour movement wants and requires: confident, critical, and reflecting the growing struggle of the movement fighting for socialism. we are primarily a literary publication: the ideas, the activities, the spirit of working class activity, pugnacious, unapologetic, but committed to inspiring people not sending them to sleep; and if we are a frankly propagandist organ, this does not mean that we compete with theoretical or pamphleteering writing. 

B.A. 

TO INTENDING CONTRIBUTORS 

We welcome poems, articles, stories, for consideration. We promise considerate and careful reading of them. We cannot possible acknowledge every piece we receive, but we will return unselected contributions provided a stamped addressed envelope is enclosed. 

Material should be sent to us written or typed on one side of the paper only. The writer's name should appear on the first sheet, and sheets should be numbered. Please keep a copy of your material.

Address material to "Voices", B.Ainley, 13 Victoria Way, Bramhall, Stockport. 

S.O.S  VOICES 5    Our Appeal in November

With an utterly empty purse to begin the publication of "Voices 5" we put out our appeal for £150. By December 18th we had received £139.50, and the issue of "Voices 5" is assured. We did not acknowledge every donation individually: it would have cost us a precious two pounds. This is a complete list of all donors (to December 18th) and we are very grateful to all of them. 

BROWN WINDSOR SOUP

Frank Parker

Heyhey trembled under the onslaught of chemical changes in his body provoked by the alarm signals from his brain triggered off by his assessment of the realities of what he was seeing.

Beebe, almost another self, beautiful, complementary Beebe stood very close, smoothing his suddenly hot forehead with her cool, practical hands.

On the computers screen was a visual impression of the data they had fed into it. They saw a man and a woman. The man looked like Heyhey, the woman like Bee.

'With our genetic structure, future humans will not show any physical difference", commented Heyhey.

"No", agreed Bee. "You disappointed?"

"I suppose I am", he admitted, relieved too.

"It's not conclusive", Bee pointed out.

"No", said Heyhey, "But it is logical. As we are now, do we want to be different? Does any human being apart from superficial changes like height, features, hair, mere fashions?"

"I know none , said Bee. "Yet we could choose to be different", said Heyhey."

"But what for?" said Bee.

"We could have wings", said Heyhey smiling.

"We got wings , said Bee, "We've got everything known in the universe. We can fly like birds, dig like moles, do everything, and better."

"Yes, said Heyhey. "This is the crux of the matter."

"You're on about progress again; about stagnation, aren't you?" asked Bee.

"Yes", said Heyhey thoughtfully, "So is the government.

"What will they make of this?" she asked.

"I don't know", he said, "But this could be a crisis. When new purposes are needed nothing inspires more confidence than new people to pursue them."

"And this is the old people?" she ventured.

"Precisely, he said, then added "Mugshots".

"Pardon?" she asked, puzzled.

"Mugshots", he repeated, his eyes showing amusement.

"You've been reading western books again", she accused.

"Mugshots", he laughed. "F.B.I. talk for pictures, press the button Bee and we'll send 'em a picture. Dutifully, she did.

"Blow 'em up?" she asked.

"Got your own back there", he said. Putting the four foot pictures between sheets of stiff thin chemical fibre, they left the centre.

This was the premier city, leading the way in anti-pollution measures, so the air was clear and clean, as were the buildings old and new, set out to give much space for gardens and wide pavements.

They were to give the photographs to Cea who would pass them along to interested people in the government. 

Bee thought her a nice old lady. She had old world charm, wasn't brash, as Bee was inclined to be and most modern youngsters. She had an air of sad tranquility, was very serious.

"Being born before the revolution probably made her that way", said Heyhey. "They had a bad time

"But they had purpose, aim - a whole new world of ideas to conquer as well as country", said Bee.

"You discontented Bee?" asked Heyhey.

"No", she said. "But it does get dull at times".

"You have your work", he said.

"Sterile.," she said.

"Sterile?" he echoed. "You can't say that. No modern state can exist without forward planning, and our work on need estimation and our fundamental research on the nature of change, especially in man, is real exciting stuff."

"All in the air", she scoffed. "It's philosophy. I'm not old enough to bother about it; I just want to live, excitingly".

Heyhey looked at her, very seriously. I didn't know you felt like this," he said.

"Well," she said equally seriously, "You've been busy."

"So have you," he said, 'With me on the same projects."

"There is a difference," she said. "When I go home I forget about work, you don't."

"Ideally there shouldn't be a difference," he said. "One phase should blend with the other."

"Be inter-connected?" she put in.

"Don't she believe it?" he asked.

She pouted, a new phenomena he noted. "Yes," she said discontentedly."But I don't feel it; my senses are not in the correlation."

"You're jaded Bee. What would you like to do tonight? Anything you like, you choose."

"Nothing appeals," she said."I'm depressed."

"Then we'll stay in and talk it out," he said.

"Nothing to talk about," she answered.

"There must be," he insisted. "There is no effect without a cause, work that out and we can find a cure."

"Let's get out," she said defiantly. "To the U.S.A. - somewhere like that."

Heyhey was shocked. "To live't" he asked.

"Yes," she said emphatically.

"You don't know what you're saying," he told her."No thing is predictable in these countries, anything can happen to you. You can be mugged or murdered. Find yourself unemployed. In prison for no reason at all. It's all dirt and filth."

"It's living," she replied. "Precisely what you said. It's unpredictable day by day, hour by hour. When did I last know fear or uncertainty? Relief or horror? All these are words to us. We never feel any of the natural animal emotions."

"Who wants to?" he said.

"I do," she said hotly.

"That's regression," said Heyhey. "I never thought you would put what is after all mere titillation before solid intellectual satisfaction."

"I don't," she protested. "But this life is too artificial, too regulated."

"You are arguing against civilization," he accused.

"I'm not," she replied. "Just too much of it."

"I don't know what to say," said Heyhey. "I thought we were alright. Obviously we are not. You'll have to work it out for yourself. All I can say is don't just suffer; at least use your training to solve your problem. For me? I stay and carry on as I am."

They journeyed the rest of the way in silence. At the super-stores, they bought their needs for the evening, on their salary not needing to count cost.

Their home was a spacious, five roomed apartment, the kitchen as modern as any in the west. 

Beebe set the table whilst Heyhey cooked; neither ate with much show of enjoyment.

Watching ballet on T.V. Beebe commented bitterly., "Why no alternative? Why only one channel? They have 20 or more in the U.S.A."

Heyhey made no answers, but his enjoyment was spoiled. He took a book and went to bed. Beebe came to see him, a little pensive, but the bug had bitten too deep. Her mood was not a passing one. Looking back he realised she had shown symptoms for some time now.

"We can take time off," he said. "Let's go to the cottage in the forest. That's back to nature. Re-charge your batteries. Might help you finalise your thoughts. Agreed?"

She nodded and got into bed beside him. "I'd be sorry to lose you," he said simply, holding her close. 

Zee looked at the picture dispassionately. "What's the time scale?" he asked.

Dee scanned the typescript that Heyhey had given Cee with the picture. "400 years," he said.

Zee looked disgusted. "Why do you bother me with this sort of thing?" He handed Dee back the picture. "The business of government is the present and foreseable future," he added. "And this is hardly in that category."

Dee felt anger. "I am not alone among scientists who are very concerned about this projection," he said.

"Well I'm not," said Zee, "But if it makes you happy I'll pass it on to the highest authority, perhaps he'll show more interest."

"That's all I want," said Dee, handing back the picture. 

Zee, as the deputy in charge of science in the federal government was answerable only to the president. He was surprised by his reaction, for he laughed.

"Mr. President?" he questioned.

"I don't believe it," said the president.

"I never even thought about it," said Zee. "It seemed so immaterial."

"I wouldn't say that," said the president."A bit academic, yes -interesting if you do think about it. The colour? what is their basis for that assumption?"

"The basis for it all,' said Zee, seems to be that the tendency for all nations to live in similar conditions, food, housing, general environment, will lead to a genetic similarity."

"Take longer than 400 years," said the president.

"They point to other factors," said Zee. "With the breakdown of racial prejudice, they believe that there will be a complete international integration."

"All races mix?" asked the president.

"Yes," said Zee.

"Like mixing paint," said the president. "I'd have thought the colour would have come out like a light brown Windsor soup."

"Like you Zee, I believe it all is pointless. Now is not the time to decide what mankind should look like. Some day perhaps. With a world government; with all man organised under socialism: perhaps then that sort of decision would be possible. Now? It's difficult to live in peace with your next door neighbour without trying to get world accord on what the next generation of humans should look like."