{"id":8225,"date":"2025-11-16T20:00:30","date_gmt":"2025-11-17T00:00:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=8225"},"modified":"2025-11-16T20:00:32","modified_gmt":"2025-11-17T00:00:32","slug":"kurt-vonnegut-harrison-bergeron","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/kurt-vonnegut-harrison-bergeron\/8225\/","title":{"rendered":"Kurt Vonnegut: Harrison Bergeron"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis: <\/strong>\u201cHarrison Bergeron\u201d is a dystopian short story by Kurt Vonnegut, published in 1961 in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. In the year 2081, thanks to Amendments 211, 212, and 213 of the Constitution, the United States government has imposed total equality among people through the use of devices that limit individuals’ physical and intellectual abilities. In this world, anyone who stands out as being more intelligent, attractive, or talented than others must wear devices that make them mediocre. However, not everyone agrees with these policies. One of them, Harrison Bergeron, an extraordinarily talented and strong young man, rebels against these restrictions.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"Kurt<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Harrison Bergeron<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Kurt Vonnegut
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE YEAR WAS 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren\u2019t only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some things about living still weren\u2019t quite right, though. April, for instance, still drove people crazy by not being springtime. And it was in that clammy month that the H-G men took George and Hazel Bergeron\u2019s fourteen-year-old son, Harrison, away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was tragic, all right, but George and Hazel couldn\u2019t think about it very hard. Hazel had a perfectly average intelligence, which meant she couldn\u2019t think about anything except in short bursts. And George, while his intelligence was way above normal, had a little mental handicap radio in his ear. He was required by law to wear it at all times. It was tuned to a government transmitter. Every twenty seconds or so, the transmitter would send out some sharp noise to keep people like George from taking unfair advantage of their brains.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

George and Hazel were watching television. There were tears on Hazel\u2019s cheeks, but she\u2019d forgotten for the moment what they were about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the television screen were ballerinas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A buzzer sounded in George\u2019s head. His thoughts fled in panic, like bandits from a burglar alarm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat was a real pretty dance, that dance they just did,\u201d said Hazel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHuh?\u201d said George.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat dance\u2014it was nice,\u201d said Hazel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYup,\u201d said George. He tried to think a little about the ballerinas. They weren\u2019t really very good\u2014no better than anybody else would have been, anyway. They were burdened with sash-weights and bags of birdshot, and their faces were masked, so that no one, seeing a free and graceful gesture or a pretty face, would feel like something the cat drug in. George was toying with the vague notion that maybe dancers shouldn\u2019t be handicapped. But he didn\u2019t get very far with it before another noise in his ear radio scattered his thoughts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

George winced. So did two out of the eight ballerinas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hazel saw him wince. Having no mental handicap herself, she had to ask George what the latest sound had been.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSounded like somebody hitting a milk bottle with a ball peen hammer,\u201d said George.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019d think it would be real interesting, hearing all the different sounds,\u201d said Hazel, a little envious. \u201cAll the things they think up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUm,\u201d said George.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOnly, if I was Handicapper General, you know what I would do?\u201d said Hazel. Hazel, as a matter of fact, bore a strong resemblance to the Handicapper General, a woman named Diana Moon Glampers. \u201cIf I was Diana Moon Glampers,\u201d said Hazel, \u201cI\u2019d have chimes on Sunday\u2014just chimes. Kind of in honor of religion.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI could think, if it was just chimes,\u201d said George.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell\u2014maybe make \u2019em real loud,\u201d said Hazel. \u201cI think I\u2019d make a good Handicapper General.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood as anybody else,\u201d said George.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho knows better\u2019n I do what normal is?\u201d said Hazel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRight,\u201d said George. He began to think glimmeringly about his abnormal son who was now in jail, about Harrison, but a twenty-one-gun salute in his head stopped that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBoy!\u201d said Hazel, \u201cthat was a doozy, wasn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was such a doozy that George was white and trembling, and tears stood on the rims of his red eyes. Two of the eight ballerinas had collapsed to the studio floor, were holding their temples.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll of a sudden you look so tired,\u201d said Hazel. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you stretch out on the sofa, so\u2019s you can rest your handicap bag on the pillows, honeybunch.\u201d She was referring to the forty-seven pounds of birdshot in a canvas bag, which was padlocked around George\u2019s neck. \u201cGo on and rest the bag for a little while,\u201d she said. \u201cI don\u2019t care if you\u2019re not equal to me for a while.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

George weighed the bag with his hands. \u201cI don\u2019t mind it,\u201d he said. \u201cI don\u2019t notice it any more. It\u2019s just a part of me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou been so tired lately\u2014kind of wore out,\u201d said Hazel. \u201cIf there was just some way we could make a little hole in the bottom of the bag, and just take out a few of them lead balls. Just a few.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTwo years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every ball I took out,\u201d said George. \u201cI don\u2019t call that a bargain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf you could just take a few out when you came home from work,\u201d said Hazel. \u201cI mean\u2014you don\u2019t compete with anybody around here. You just set around.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf I tried to get away with it,\u201d said George, \u201cthen other people\u2019d get away with it\u2014and pretty soon we\u2019d be right back to the dark ages again, with everybody competing against everybody else. You wouldn\u2019t like that, would you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019d hate it,\u201d said Hazel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere you are,\u201d said George. \u201cThe minute people start cheating on laws, what do you think happens to society?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If Hazel hadn\u2019t been able to come up with an answer to this question, George couldn\u2019t have supplied one. A siren was going off in his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cReckon it\u2019d fall all apart,\u201d said Hazel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat would?\u201d said George blankly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSociety,\u201d said Hazel uncertainly. \u201cWasn\u2019t that what you just said?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho knows?\u201d said George.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The television program was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It wasn\u2019t clear at first as to what the bulletin was about, since the announcer, like all announcers, had a serious speech impediment. For about half a minute, and in a state of high excitement, the announcer tried to say, \u201cLadies and gentlemen\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He finally gave up, handed the bulletin to a ballerina to read.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s all right\u2014\u201d Hazel said of the announcer, \u201che tried. That\u2019s the big thing. He tried to do the best he could with what God gave him. He should get a nice raise for trying so hard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLadies and gentlemen\u2014\u201d said the ballerina, reading the bulletin. She must have been extraordinarily beautiful, because the mask she wore was hideous. And it was easy to see that she was the strongest and most graceful of all the dancers, for her handicap bags were as big as those worn by two-hundred-pound men.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And she had to apologize at once for her voice, which was a very unfair voice for a woman to use. Her voice was a warm, luminous, timeless melody. \u201cExcuse me\u2014\u201d she said, and she began again, making her voice absolutely uncompetitive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHarrison Bergeron, age fourteen,\u201d she said in a grackle squawk, \u201chas just escaped from jail, where he was held on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government. He is a genius and an athlete, is under-handicapped, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A police photograph of Harrison Bergeron was flashed on the screen\u2014upside down, then sideways, upside down again, then right side up. The picture showed the full length of Harrison against a background calibrated in feet and inches. He was exactly seven feet tall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The rest of Harrison\u2019s appearance was Halloween and hardware. Nobody had ever borne heavier handicaps. He had outgrown hindrances faster than the H-G men could think them up. Instead of a little ear radio for a mental handicap, he wore a tremendous pair of earphones, and spectacles with thick wavy lenses. The spectacles were intended to make him not only half blind, but to give him whanging headaches besides.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Scrap metal was hung all over him. Ordinarily, there was a certain symmetry, a military neatness to the handicaps issued to strong people, but Harrison looked like a walking junkyard. In the race of life, Harrison carried three hundred pounds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And to offset his good looks, the H-G men required that he wear at all times a red rubber ball for a nose, keep his eyebrows shaved off, and cover his even white teeth with black caps at snaggle-tooth random.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf you see this boy,\u201d said the ballerina, \u201cdo not\u2014I repeat, do not\u2014try to reason with him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was the shriek of a door being torn from its hinges.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Screams and barking cries of consternation came from the television set. The photograph of Harrison Bergeron on the screen jumped again and again, as though dancing to the tune of an earthquake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

George Bergeron correctly identified the earthquake, and well he might have\u2014for many was the time his own home had danced to the same crashing tune. \u201cMy God\u2014\u201d said George, \u201cthat must be Harrison!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The realization was blasted from his mind instantly by the sound of an automobile collision in his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When George could open his eyes again, the photograph of Harrison was gone. A living, breathing Harrison filled the screen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clanking, clownish, and huge, Harrison stood in the center of the studio. The knob of the uprooted studio door was still in his hand. Ballerinas, technicians, musicians, and announcers cowered on their knees before him, expecting to die.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI am the Emperor!\u201d cried Harrison. \u201cDo you hear? I am the Emperor! Everybody must do what I say at once!\u201d He stamped his foot and the studio shook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEven as I stand here\u2014\u201d he bellowed, \u201ccrippled, hobbled, sickened\u2014I am a greater ruler than any man who ever lived! Now watch me become what I can<\/em> become!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harrison tore the straps of his handicap harness like wet tissue paper, tore straps guaranteed to support five thousand pounds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harrison\u2019s scrap-iron handicaps crashed to the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harrison thrust his thumbs under the bar of the padlock that secured his head harness. The bar snapped like celery. Harrison smashed his headphones and spectacles against the wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He flung away his rubber-ball nose, revealed a man that would have awed Thor, the god of thunder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI shall now select my Empress!\u201d he said, looking down on the cowering people. \u201cLet the first woman who dares rise to her feet claim her mate and her throne!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, snapped off her physical handicaps with marvellous delicacy. Last of all, he removed her mask.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was blindingly beautiful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNow\u2014\u201d said Harrison, taking her heand, \u201cshall we show the people the meaning of the word dance? Music!\u201d he commanded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The musicians scrambled back into their chairs, and Harrison stripped them of their handicaps, too. \u201cPlay your best,\u201d he told them, \u201cand I\u2019ll make you barons and dukes and earls.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The music began. It was normal at first\u2014cheap, silly, false. But Harrison snatched two musicians from their chairs, waved them like batons as he sang the music as he wanted it played. He slammed them back into their chairs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The music began again and was much improved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harrison and his Empress merely listened to the music for a while\u2014listened gravely, as though synchronizing their heartbeats with it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They shifted their weights to their toes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harrison placed his big hands on the girl\u2019s tiny waist, letting her sense the weightlessness that would soon be hers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then, in an explosion of joy and grace, into the air they sprang!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not only were the laws of the land abandoned, but the law of gravity and the laws of motion as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They reeled, whirled, swiveled, flounced, capered, gamboled, and spun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They leaped like deer on the moon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The studio ceiling was thirty feet high, but each leap brought the dancers nearer to it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It became their obvious intention to kiss the ceiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They kissed it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then, neutralizing gravity with love and pure will, they remained suspended in air inches below the ceiling, and they kissed each other for a long, long time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was then that Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, came into the studio with a double-barreled ten-gauge shotgun. She fired twice, and the Emperor and the Empress were dead before they hit the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Diana Moon Glampers loaded the gun again. She aimed it at the musicians and told them they had ten seconds to get their handicaps back on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was then that the Bergerons\u2019 television tube burned out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hazel turned to comment about the blackout to George. But George had gone out into the kitchen for a can of beer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

George came back in with the beer, paused while a handicap signal shook him up. And then he sat down again. \u201cYou been crying?\u201d he said to Hazel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYup,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat about?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI forget,\u201d she said. \u201cSomething real sad on television.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat was it?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all kind of mixed up in my mind,\u201d said Hazel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cForget sad things,\u201d said George.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI always do,\u201d said Hazel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s my girl,\u201d said George. He winced. There was the sound of a rivetting gun in his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGee\u2014I could tell that one was a doozy,\u201d said Hazel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can say that again,\u201d said George.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGee\u2014\u201d said Hazel, \u201cI could tell that one was a doozy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cHarrison Bergeron\u201d is a dystopian short story by Kurt Vonnegut, published in 1961 in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. In the year 2081, thanks to Amendments 211, 212, and 213 of the Constitution, the United States government has imposed total equality among people through the use of devices that limit individuals’ physical and intellectual abilities. In this world, anyone who stands out as being more intelligent, attractive, or talented than others must wear devices that make them mediocre. However, not everyone agrees with these policies. One of them, Harrison Bergeron, an extraordinarily talented and strong young man, rebels against these restrictions.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":13910,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[633,552,570],"class_list":["post-8225","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-kurt-vonnegut-en","tag-science-fiction","tag-united-states","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":633,"label":"Kurt Vonnegut"},{"value":552,"label":"Science fiction"},{"value":570,"label":"United States"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/11\/Kurt-Vonnegut-Harrison-Bergeron.jpg",1024,1024,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":424,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":424,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":633,"name":"Kurt Vonnegut","slug":"kurt-vonnegut-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":633,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":1,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":552,"name":"Science fiction","slug":"science-fiction","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":552,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":123,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":570,"name":"United States","slug":"united-states","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":570,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":296,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8225","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8225"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8225\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/13910"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8225"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8225"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8225"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}