I am pretty sure this story appeared in F&SF - it was definitely during the late '60s/early '70s. Two scientists are strolling through what appears to be a zoo. They look down into a concrete pit containing several people. These people are barefoot, wear rags and live in filth but they have been brainwashed into thinking they are a typical middle-class 20th century American family. When the husband 'goes to work' he stands in the corner and pretends to operate a machine. When Grandpa dies they dump his body into a box and then sit on it, thinking it is a sofa and they are watching TV. The scientists discuss this for a while (it was some kind of sociological experiment) and then go on their way, unaware they are barefoot, filthy and wear rags.
1 Answer
"The Adjusted", a short story by Kenneth Bulmer, first published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, June 1966, available at the Internet Archive.
The beginning:
On this morning as they went down to the pens the mild early sunlight gentled with soft radiance the broken brickwork and gaping concrete so that for a mocking moment the labyrinth assumed a semblance of normality. The two men walked delicately along the raised ramparts between the pens looking down through each transparent roof.
"The zoom they've designed on my new cine camera is fantastic — a recommended Best Buy." The elder of the two withdrew his foot sharply as he kicked a protruding stump of ferro-concrete. "What a frightful bore all this is, Rodney!" He spoke pettishly, like a man roused from an absorbing game to attend a broken fuse. "Every time I come here there are less people to care for."
"But we must care, Charles, surely?" The younger man tended to hang a half-body's distance in rear of his companion. "After all . . . Look at the poor darlings! One does try to remember they are human . . ."
The middle:
The man stood up and walked carefully towards a corner of the pen. He stood facing into the angle of the walls and his body and hands moved occasionally, the bedraggled hem of his clothing knuckling the floor.
"Grandma's quiet this morning, Mum." The remaining Robinsons continued sitting on their boxes, their gruel bowls empty on the harsh floor.
The mother hushed her eldest. "Now you leave your grandma alone, Estelle! She's just having a little nap. Go and watch the telly."
Obediently the three children turned as one to face a blank concrete wall. Mildew grew a roseate whorl. Their faces blanked, smooth and effortlessly becoming tuned receptors. The woman sat humped on her box. A dribble of porridge plopped to the floor.
The ending:
Rodney stood beside Charles with an exaggerated motion of his legs. Charles held both hands out in front of him rounding on the empty air.
"I like the feel of the velvet steering ring," he said moving his hands smoothingly. "Adds a spot of class."
The two old men tottered gently away, their porridge textured garments wrapping them like shrouds, across the concrete to their own pens.
