 What wouldn't be something Humphrey would want from his life?
Humphrey Fownes strode through the puffs of falling glass still intrigued by a temperature that was always 59 degrees, by a humidity that was always 47%, by weather that was always Optimum. It was this rather than skill that enabled the police to maintain such a tight surveillance on him, a surveillance that went to the extent of getting his fingerprints off the postman's bag, and which photographed, X-rayed and chemically analyzed the contents of his pockets before returning them. Conformity had become more than a social force; it was a physical necessity. Lanfierre was almost proud of Humphrey Fownes. It expressed his weariness and distaste for people who went off and got neurotic when they could be enjoying a happy, normal existence.
 a promotion from his job
 to experience real weather  a family  a promotion from his job  to escape the dome