The winter after the picnic that rescued Greta Brandt, the regime discovered a fresh cruelty and called it hygiene. Pamphlets appeared with tidy fonts and diagrams of ears, noses, and throats—body parts reduced to plumbing. National Quiet, the circulars said. A Program for Prosperity. Noise, they argued, wasted energy; chatter squandered discipline; laughter, if uncoordinated, corroded trust. There would be inspections. There would be fines for excessive decibels. There would be public shaming for “unscheduled choruses.”