But when the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, pundits proclaimed the end of history, shopping reigned triumphant, and there was already lots of quasi-soma percolating through society. Which template would win, we wondered? During the Cold War, Nineteen Eighty-Four seemed to have the edge. The other was Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World (1932), which proposed a different and softer form of totalitarianism – one of conformity achieved through engineered, bottle-grown babies and hypnotic persuasion rather than through brutality of boundless consumption that keeps the wheels of production turning and of officially enforced promiscuity that does away with sexual frustration of a pre-ordained caste system ranging from a highly intelligent managerial class to a subgroup of dimwitted serfs programmed to love their menial work and of soma, a drug that confers instant bliss with no side effects.

One was George Orwell’s 1949 novel, Nineteen Eighty-Four, with its horrific vision of a brutal, mind-controlling totalitarian state – a book that gave us Big Brother, and thoughtcrime and Newspeak and the memory hole and the torture palace called the Ministry of Love, and the discouraging spectacle of a boot grinding into the human face forever. In the latter half of the twentieth century, two visionary books cast their shadows over our futures. ‘O brave new world, that has such people in’t!’ – Miranda, in Shakespeare’s play The Tempest, on first sighting the shipwrecked courtiers.

Oh brave new world