It is a sin to write this. It is a sin to think words no others think
and to put them down upon a paper no others are to see. It is base and
evil. It is as if we were speaking alone to no ears but our own. And
we know well that there is no transgression blacker than to do or think
alone. We have broken the laws. The laws say that men may not write
unless the Council of Vocations bid them so. May we be forgiven!
But this is not the only sin upon us. We have committed a greater crime,
and for this crime there is no name. What punishment awaits us if it be
discovered we know not, for no such crime has come in the memory of men
and there are no laws to provide for it.
It is dark here. The flame of the candle stands still in the air.
Nothing moves in this tunnel save our hand on the paper. We are alone
here under the earth. It is a fearful word, alone. The laws say that
none among men may be alone, ever and at any time, for this is the great
transgression and the root of all evil. But we have broken many laws.
And now there is nothing here save our one body, and it is strange to
see only two legs stretched on the ground, and on the wall before us the
shadow of our one head.
The walls are cracked and water runs upon them in thin threads without
sound, black and glistening as blood. We stole the candle from the
larder of the Home of the Street Sweepers. We shall be sentenced to ten
years in the Palace of Corrective Detention if it be discovered. But
this matters not. It matters only that the light is precious and we
should not waste it to write when we need it for that work which is our
crime. Nothing matters save the work, our secret, our evil, our precious
work. Still, we must also write, for—may the Council have mercy upon
us!—we wish to speak for once to no ears but our own.
Our name is Equality 7-2521, as it is written on the iron bracelet
which all men wear on their left wrists with their names upon it. We are
twenty-one years old. We are six feet tall, and this is a burden, for
there are not many men who are six feet tall. Ever have the Teachers and
the Leaders pointed to us and frowned and said: "There is evil in your
bones, Equality 7-2521, for your body has grown beyond the bodies of
your brothers." But we cannot change our bones nor our body.
We were born with a curse. It has always driven us to thoughts which are
forbidden. It has always given us wishes which men may not wish. We know
that we are evil, but there is no will in us and no power to resist it.
This is our wonder and our secret fear, that we know and do not resist.
We strive to be like all our brother men, for all men must be alike.
Over the portals of the Palace of the World Council, there are words cut
in the marble, which we are required to repeat to ourselves whenever we
"We are one in all and all in one.
There are no men but only the great WE,
One, indivisible and forever."—
We repeat this to ourselves, but it helps us not.
These words were cut long ago. There is green mould in the grooves of
the letters and yellow streaks on the marble, which come from more
years than men could count. And these words are the truth, for they are
written on the Palace of the World Council, and the World Council is the
body of all truth. Thus has it been ever since the Great Rebirth, and
farther back than that no memory can reach.
But we must never speak of the times before the Great Rebirth, else we
are sentenced to three years in the Palace of Corrective Detention. It
is only the Old Ones who whisper about it in the evenings, in the Home
of the Useless. They whisper many strange things, of the towers which
rose to the sky, in those Unmentionable Times, and of the wagons which
moved without horses, and of the lights which burned without flame. But
those times were evil. And those times passed away, when men saw the
Great Truth which is this: that all men are one and that there is no
will save the will of all men together.
All men are good and wise. It is only we, Equality 7-2521, we alone who
were born with a curse. For we are not like our brothers. And as we look
back upon our life, we see that it has ever been thus and that it has
brought us step by step to our last, supreme transgression, our crime of
crimes hidden here under the ground.
We remember the Home of the Infants where we lived till we were five
years old, together with all the children of the City who had been born
in the same year. The sleeping halls there were white and clean and bare
of all things save one hundred beds. We were just like all our brothers
then, save for the one transgression: we fought with our brothers. There
are few offenses blacker than to fight with our brothers, at any age and
for any cause whatsoever. The Council of the Home told us so, and of all
the children of that year, we were locked in the cellar most often.
When we were five years old, we were sent to the Home of the Students,
where there are ten wards, for our ten years of learning. Men must learn
till they reach their fifteenth year. Then they go to work. In the Home
of the Students we arose when the big bell rang in the tower and we went
to our beds when it rang again. Before we removed our garments, we stood
in the great sleeping hall, and we raised our right arms, and we said
all together with the three Teachers at the head:
"We are nothing. Mankind is all. By the grace of our brothers are we
allowed our lives. We exist through, by and for our brothers who are the
Then we slept. The sleeping halls were white and clean and bare of all
things save one hundred beds.
We, Equality 7-2521, were not happy in those years in the Home of the
Students. It was not that the learning was too hard for us. It was that
the learning was too easy. This is a great sin, to be born with a head
which is too quick. It is not good to be different from our brothers,
but it is evil to be superior to them. The Teachers told us so, and they
frowned when they looked upon us.
So we fought against this curse. We tried to forget our lessons, but we
always remembered. We tried not to understand what the Teachers taught,
but we always understood it before the Teachers had spoken. We looked
upon Union 5-3992, who were a pale boy with only half a brain, and we
tried to say and do as they did, that we might be like them, like Union
5-3992, but somehow the Teachers knew that we were not. And we were
lashed more often than all the other children.
The Teachers were just, for they had been appointed by the Councils, and
the Councils are the voice of all justice, for they are the voice of all
men. And if sometimes, in the secret darkness of our heart, we regret
that which befell us on our fifteenth birthday, we know that it was
through our own guilt. We had broken a law, for we had not paid heed to
the words of our Teachers. The Teachers had said to us all:
"Dare not choose in your minds the work you would like to do when
you leave the Home of the Students. You shall do what the Council of
Vocations shall prescribe for you. For the Council of Vocations knows in
its great wisdom where you are needed by your brother men, better than
you can know it in your unworthy little minds. And if you are not needed
by your brother men, there is no reason for you to burden the earth with
We knew this well, in the years of our childhood, but our curse broke
our will. We were guilty and we confess it here: we were guilty of
the great Transgression of Preference. We preferred some work and some
lessons to the others. We did not listen well to the history of all the
Councils elected since the Great Rebirth. But we loved the Science of
Things. We wished to know. We wished to know about all the things which
make the earth around us. We asked so many questions that the Teachers
We think that there are mysteries in the sky and under the water and in
the plants which grow. But the Council of Scholars has said that there
are no mysteries, and the Council of Scholars knows all things. And we
learned much from our Teachers. We learned that the earth is flat and
that the sun revolves around it, which causes the day and night. We
learned the names of all the winds which blow over the seas and push the
sails of our great ships. We learned how to bleed men to cure them of
We loved the Science of Things. And in the darkness, in the secret hour,
when we awoke in the night and there were no brothers around us, but
only their shapes in the beds and their snores, we closed our eyes, and
we held our lips shut, and we stopped our breath, that no shudder might
let our brothers see or hear or guess, and we thought that we wished to
be sent to the Home of the Scholars when our time would come.
All of the great modern inventions come from the Home of the Scholars,
such as the newest one, which was found only a hundred years ago, of how
to make candles from wax and string; also, how to make glass, which is
put in our windows to protect us from the rain. To find these things,
the Scholars must study the earth and learn from the rivers, from the
sands, from the winds and the rocks. And if we went to the Home of the
Scholars, we could learn from these also. We could ask questions of
these, for they do not forbid questions.
And questions give us no rest. We know not why our curse makes us seek
we know not what, ever and ever. But we cannot resist it. It whispers to
us that there are great things on this earth of ours, and that we must
know them. We ask, why must we know, but it has no answer to give us. We
must know that we may know.
So we wished to be sent to the Home of the Scholars. We wished it so
much that our hands trembled under the blankets in the night, and we bit
our arm to stop that other pain which we could not endure. It was evil
and we dared not face our brothers in the morning. For men may wish
nothing for themselves. And we were punished when the Council of
Vocations came to give us our life Mandates which tell those who reach
their fifteenth year what their work is to be for the rest of their
The Council of Vocations came in on the first day of spring, and they
sat in the great hall. And we who were fifteen and all the Teachers came
into the great hall. And the Council of Vocations sat on a high dais,
and they had but two words to speak to each of the Students. They called
the Students' names, and when the Students stepped before them, one
after another, the Council said: "Carpenter" or "Doctor" or "Cook" or
"Leader." Then each Student raised their right arm and said: "The will
of our brothers be done."
Now if the Council said "Carpenter" or "Cook," the Students so assigned
go to work and do not study any further. But if the Council has said
"Leader," then those Students go into the Home of the Leaders, which is
the greatest house in the City, for it has three stories. And there they
study for many years, so that they may become candidates and be elected
to the City Council and the State Council and the World Council—by a
free and general vote of all men. But we wished not to be a Leader, even
though it is a great honor. We wished to be a Scholar.
So we awaited our turn in the great hall and then we heard the Council
of Vocations call our name: "Equality 7-2521." We walked to the dais,
and our legs did not tremble, and we looked up at the Council. There
were five members of the Council, three of the male gender and two of
the female. Their hair was white and their faces were cracked as the
clay of a dry river bed. They were old. They seemed older than the
marble of the Temple of the World Council. They sat before us and they
did not move. And we saw no breath to stir the folds of their white
togas. But we knew that they were alive, for a finger of the hand of the
oldest rose, pointed to us, and fell down again. This was the only
thing which moved, for the lips of the oldest did not move as they said:
We felt the cords of our neck grow tight as our head rose higher to look
upon the faces of the Council, and we were happy. We knew we had been
guilty, but now we had a way to atone for it. We would accept our Life
Mandate, and we would work for our brothers, gladly and willingly, and
we would erase our sin against them, which they did not know, but we
knew. So we were happy, and proud of ourselves and of our victory over
ourselves. We raised our right arm and we spoke, and our voice was the
clearest, the steadiest voice in the hall that day, and we said:
"The will of our brothers be done."
And we looked straight into the eyes of the Council, but their eyes were
as cold as blue glass buttons.
So we went into the Home of the Street Sweepers. It is a grey house on a
narrow street. There is a sundial in its courtyard, by which the Council
of the Home can tell the hours of the day and when to ring the bell.
When the bell rings, we all arise from our beds. The sky is green and
cold in our windows to the east. The shadow on the sundial marks off a
half-hour while we dress and eat our breakfast in the dining hall, where
there are five long tables with twenty clay plates and twenty clay cups
on each table. Then we go to work in the streets of the City, with our
brooms and our rakes. In five hours, when the sun is high, we return to
the Home and we eat our midday meal, for which one-half hour is allowed.
Then we go to work again. In five hours, the shadows are blue on the
pavements, and the sky is blue with a deep brightness which is not
bright. We come back to have our dinner, which lasts one hour. Then the
bell rings and we walk in a straight column to one of the City Halls,
for the Social Meeting. Other columns of men arrive from the Homes
of the different Trades. The candles are lit, and the Councils of the
different Homes stand in a pulpit, and they speak to us of our duties
and of our brother men. Then visiting Leaders mount the pulpit and they
read to us the speeches which were made in the City Council that day,
for the City Council represents all men and all men must know. Then we
sing hymns, the Hymn of Brotherhood, and the Hymn of Equality, and the
Hymn of the Collective Spirit. The sky is a soggy purple when we return
to the Home. Then the bell rings and we walk in a straight column to the
City Theatre for three hours of Social Recreation. There a play is shown
upon the stage, with two great choruses from the Home of the Actors,
which speak and answer all together, in two great voices. The plays
are about toil and how good it is. Then we walk back to the Home in a
straight column. The sky is like a black sieve pierced by silver drops
that tremble, ready to burst through. The moths beat against the street
lanterns. We go to our beds and we sleep, till the bell rings again.
The sleeping halls are white and clean and bare of all things save one
Thus have we lived each day of four years, until two springs ago when
our crime happened. Thus must all men live until they are forty. At
forty, they are worn out. At forty, they are sent to the Home of the
Useless, where the Old Ones live. The Old Ones do not work, for the
State takes care of them. They sit in the sun in summer and they sit by
the fire in winter. They do not speak often, for they are weary. The
Old Ones know that they are soon to die. When a miracle happens and some
live to be forty-five, they are the Ancient Ones, and children stare at
them when passing by the Home of the Useless. Such is to be our life, as
that of all our brothers and of the brothers who came before us.
Such would have been our life, had we not committed our crime which has
changed all things for us. And it was our curse which drove us to our
crime. We had been a good Street Sweeper and like all our brother Street
Sweepers, save for our cursed wish to know. We looked too long at the
stars at night, and at the trees and the earth. And when we cleaned
the yard of the Home of the Scholars, we gathered the glass vials, the
pieces of metal, the dried bones which they had discarded. We wished to
keep these things and to study them, but we had no place to hide them.
So we carried them to the City Cesspool. And then we made the discovery.
It was on a day of the spring before last. We Street Sweepers work
in brigades of three, and we were with Union 5-3992, they of the
half-brain, and with International 4-8818. Now Union 5-3992 are a sickly
lad and sometimes they are stricken with convulsions, when their
mouth froths and their eyes turn white. But International 4-8818
are different. They are a tall, strong youth and their eyes are like
fireflies, for there is laughter in their eyes. We cannot look upon
International 4-8818 and not smile in answer. For this they were not
liked in the Home of the Students, as it is not proper to smile without
reason. And also they were not liked because they took pieces of coal
and they drew pictures upon the walls, and they were pictures which made
men laugh. But it is only our brothers in the Home of the Artists who
are permitted to draw pictures, so International 4-8818 were sent to the
Home of the Street Sweepers, like ourselves.
International 4-8818 and we are friends. This is an evil thing to say,
for it is a great transgression, the great Transgression of Preference,
to love any among men better than the others, since we must love all men
and all men are our friends. So International 4-8818 and we have never
spoken of it. But we know. We know, when we look into each other's eyes.
And when we look thus without words, we both know other things also,
strange things for which there are no words, and these things frighten
So on that day of the spring before last, Union 5-3992 were stricken
with convulsions on the edge of the City, near the City Theatre. We
left them to lie in the shade of the Theatre tent and we went with
International 4-8818 to finish our work. We came together to the great
ravine behind the Theatre. It is empty save for trees and weeds.
Beyond the ravine there is a plain, and beyond the plain there lies the
Uncharted Forest, about which men must not think.
We were gathering the papers and the rags which the wind had blown from
the Theatre, when we saw an iron bar among the weeds. It was old and
rusted by many rains. We pulled with all our strength, but we could not
move it. So we called International 4-8818, and together we scraped the
earth around the bar. Of a sudden the earth fell in before us, and we
saw an old iron grill over a black hole.
International 4-8818 stepped back. But we pulled at the grill and it
gave way. And then we saw iron rings as steps leading down a shaft into
a darkness without bottom.
"We shall go down," we said to International 4-8818.
"It is forbidden," they answered.
We said: "The Council does not know of this hole, so it cannot be
And they answered: "Since the Council does not know of this hole,
there can be no law permitting to enter it. And everything which is not
permitted by law is forbidden."
But we said: "We shall go, none the less."
They were frightened, but they stood by and watched us go.
We hung on the iron rings with our hands and our feet. We could see
nothing below us. And above us the hole open upon the sky grew smaller
and smaller, till it came to be the size of a button. But still we went
down. Then our foot touched the ground. We rubbed our eyes, for we could
not see. Then our eyes became used to the darkness, and we could not
believe what we saw.
No man known to us could have built this place, nor the men known to
our brothers who lived before us, and yet it was built by men. It was a
great tunnel. Its walls were hard and smooth to the touch; it felt like
stone, but it was not stone. On the ground there were long thin tracks
of iron, but it was not iron; it felt smooth and cold as glass. We
knelt, and we crawled forward, our hand groping along the iron line to
see where it would lead. But there was an unbroken night ahead. Only the
iron tracks glowed through it, straight and white, calling us to follow.
But we could not follow, for we were losing the puddle of light behind
us. So we turned and we crawled back, our hand on the iron line. And our
heart beat in our fingertips, without reason. And then we knew.
We knew suddenly that this place was left from the Unmentionable Times.
So it was true, and those Times had been, and all the wonders of those
Times. Hundreds upon hundreds of years ago men knew secrets which we
have lost. And we thought: "This is a foul place. They are damned
who touch the things of the Unmentionable Times." But our hand which
followed the track, as we crawled, clung to the iron as if it would not
leave it, as if the skin of our hand were thirsty and begging of the
metal some secret fluid beating in its coldness.
We returned to the earth. International 4-8818 looked upon us and
"Equality 7-2521," they said, "your face is white."
But we could not speak and we stood looking upon them.
They backed away, as if they dared not touch us. Then they smiled, but
it was not a gay smile; it was lost and pleading. But still we could not
speak. Then they said:
"We shall report our find to the City Council and both of us will be
And then we spoke. Our voice was hard and there was no mercy in our
voice. We said:
"We shall not report our find to the City Council. We shall not report
it to any men."
They raised their hands to their ears, for never had they heard such
words as these.
"International 4-8818," we asked, "will you report us to the Council and
see us lashed to death before your eyes?"
They stood straight of a sudden and they answered:
"Rather would we die."
"Then," we said, "keep silent. This place is ours. This place belongs
to us, Equality 7-2521, and to no other men on earth. And if ever we
surrender it, we shall surrender our life with it also."
Then we saw that the eyes of International 4-8818 were full to the
lids with tears they dared not drop, they whispered, and their voice
trembled, so that their words lost all shape:
"The will of the Council is above all things, for it is the will of
our brothers, which is holy. But if you wish it so, we shall obey you.
Rather shall we be evil with you than good with all our brothers. May
the Council have mercy upon both our hearts!"
Then we walked away together and back to the Home of the Street
Sweepers. And we walked in silence.
Thus did it come to pass that each night, when the stars are high and
the Street Sweepers sit in the City Theatre, we, Equality 7-2521, steal
out and run through the darkness to our place. It is easy to leave the
Theatre; when the candles are blown and the Actors come onto the stage,
no eyes can see us as we crawl under our seat and under the cloth of
the tent. Later it is easy to steal through the shadows and fall in line
next to International 4-8818, as the column leaves the Theatre. It is
dark in the streets and there are no men about, for no men may walk
through the City when they have no mission to walk there. Each night, we
run to the ravine, and we remove the stones we have piled upon the iron
grill to hide it from men. Each night, for three hours, we are under the
We have stolen candles from the Home of the Street Sweepers, we have
stolen flints and knives and paper, and we have brought them to this
place. We have stolen glass vials and powders and acids from the Home of
the Scholars. Now we sit in the tunnel for three hours each night and
we study. We melt strange metals, and we mix acids, and we cut open the
bodies of the animals which we find in the City Cesspool. We have built
an oven of the bricks we gathered in the streets. We burn the wood we
find in the ravine. The fire flickers in the oven and blue shadows dance
upon the walls, and there is no sound of men to disturb us.
We have stolen manuscripts. This is a great offense. Manuscripts are
precious, for our brothers in the Home of the Clerks spend one year to
copy one single script in their clear handwriting. Manuscripts are rare
and they are kept in the Home of the Scholars. So we sit under the earth
and we read the stolen scripts. Two years have passed since we found
this place. And in these two years we have learned more than we had
learned in the ten years of the Home of the Students.
We have learned things which are not in the scripts. We have solved
secrets of which the Scholars have no knowledge. We have come to see how
great is the unexplored, and many lifetimes will not bring us to the
end of our quest. We wish nothing, save to be alone and to learn, and to
feel as if with each day our sight were growing sharper than the hawk's
and clearer than rock crystal.
Strange are the ways of evil. We are false in the faces of our brothers.
We are defying the will of our Councils. We alone, of the thousands who
walk this earth, we alone in this hour are doing a work which has no
purpose save that we wish to do it. The evil of our crime is not for the
human mind to probe. The nature of our punishment, if it be discovered,
is not free for the human heart to ponder. Never, not in the memory of
the Ancient Ones' Ancients, never have men done what we are doing.
And yet there is no shame in us and no regret. We say to ourselves that
we are a wretch and a traitor. But we feel no burden upon our spirit and
no fear in our heart. And it seems to us that our spirit is clear as
a lake troubled by no eyes save those of the sun. And in our
heart—strange are the ways of evil!—in our heart there is the first
peace we have known in twenty years.
Liberty 5-3000... Liberty five-three thousand... Liberty 5-3000....
We wish to write this name. We wish to speak it, but we dare not speak
it above a whisper. For men are forbidden to take notice of women, and
women are forbidden to take notice of men. But we think of one among
women, they whose name is Liberty 5-3000, and we think of no others.
The women who have been assigned to work the soil live in the Homes of
the Peasants beyond the City. Where the City ends there is a great road
winding off to the north, and we Street Sweepers must keep this road
clean to the first milepost. There is a hedge along the road, and beyond
the hedge lie the fields. The fields are black and ploughed, and they
lie like a great fan before us, with their furrows gathered in some hand
beyond the sky, spreading forth from that hand, opening wide apart as
they come toward us, like black pleats that sparkle with thin, green
spangles. Women work in the fields, and their white tunics in the wind
are like the wings of sea-gulls beating over the black soil.
And there it was that we saw Liberty 5-3000 walking along the furrows.
Their body was straight and thin as a blade of iron. Their eyes were
dark and hard and glowing, with no fear in them, no kindness and no
guilt. Their hair was golden as the sun; their hair flew in the wind,
shining and wild, as if it defied men to restrain it. They threw seeds
from their hand as if they deigned to fling a scornful gift, and the
earth was a beggar under their feet.
We stood still; for the first time we knew fear, and then pain. And
we stood still that we might not spill this pain more precious than
Then we heard a voice from the others call their name: "Liberty 5-3000,"
and they turned and walked back. Thus we learned their name, and we
stood watching them go, till their white tunic was lost in the blue
And the following day, as we came to the northern road, we kept our eyes
upon Liberty 5-3000 in the field. And each day thereafter we knew the
illness of waiting for our hour on the northern road. And there we
looked at Liberty 5-3000 each day. We know not whether they looked at us
also, but we think they did.
Then one day they came close to the hedge, and suddenly they turned to
us. They turned in a whirl and the movement of their body stopped, as if
slashed off, as suddenly as it had started. They stood still as a stone,
and they looked straight upon us, straight in our eyes. There was no
smile on their face, and no welcome. But their face was taut, and their
eyes were dark. Then they turned as swiftly, and they walked away from
But the following day, when we came to the road, they smiled. They
smiled to us and for us. And we smiled in answer. Their head fell back,
and their arms fell, as if their arms and their thin white neck were
stricken suddenly with a great lassitude. They were not looking upon us,
but upon the sky. Then they glanced at us over their shoulder, and we
felt as if a hand had touched our body, slipping softly from our lips to
Every morning thereafter, we greeted each other with our eyes. We dared
not speak. It is a transgression to speak to men of other Trades, save
in groups at the Social Meetings. But once, standing at the hedge, we
raised our hand to our forehead and then moved it slowly, palm down,
toward Liberty 5-3000. Had the others seen it, they could have guessed
nothing, for it looked only as if we were shading our eyes from the
sun. But Liberty 5-3000 saw it and understood. They raised their hand to
their forehead and moved it as we had. Thus, each day, we greet Liberty
5-3000, and they answer, and no men can suspect.
We do not wonder at this new sin of ours. It is our second Transgression
of Preference, for we do not think of all our brothers, as we must, but
only of one, and their name is Liberty 5-3000. We do not know why we
think of them. We do not know why, when we think of them, we feel of a
sudden that the earth is good and that it is not a burden to live.
We do not think of them as Liberty 5-3000 any longer. We have given them
a name in our thoughts. We call them the Golden One. But it is a sin to
give men other names which distinguish them from other men. Yet we call
them the Golden One, for they are not like the others. The Golden One
are not like the others.
And we take no heed of the law which says that men may not think of
women, save at the Time of Mating. This is the time each spring when all
the men older than twenty and all the women older than eighteen are sent
for one night to the City Palace of Mating. And each of the men have one
of the women assigned to them by the Council of Eugenics. Children are
born each winter, but women never see their children and children never
know their parents. Twice have we been sent to the Palace of Mating, but
it is an ugly and shameful matter, of which we do not like to think.
We had broken so many laws, and today we have broken one more. Today we
spoke to the Golden One.
The other women were far off in the field, when we stopped at the hedge
by the side of the road. The Golden One were kneeling alone at the moat
which runs through the field. And the drops of water falling from their
hands, as they raised the water to their lips, were like sparks of fire
in the sun. Then the Golden One saw us, and they did not move, kneeling
there, looking at us, and circles of light played upon their white
tunic, from the sun on the water of the moat, and one sparkling drop
fell from a finger of their hand held as frozen in the air.
Then the Golden One rose and walked to the hedge, as if they had heard a
command in our eyes. The two other Street Sweepers of our brigade were
a hundred paces away down the road. And we thought that International
4-8818 would not betray us, and Union 5-3992 would not understand. So
we looked straight upon the Golden One, and we saw the shadows of their
lashes on their white cheeks and the sparks of sun on their lips. And we
"You are beautiful, Liberty 5-3000."
Their face did not move and they did not avert their eyes. Only their
eyes grew wider, and there was triumph in their eyes, and it was not
triumph over us, but over things we could not guess.
Then they asked:
"What is your name?"
"Equality 7-2521," we answered.
"You are not one of our brothers, Equality 7-2521, for we do not wish
you to be."
We cannot say what they meant, for there are no words for their meaning,
but we know it without words and we knew it then.
"No," we answered, "nor are you one of our sisters."
"If you see us among scores of women, will you look upon us?"
"We shall look upon you, Liberty 5-3000, if we see you among all the
women of the earth."
Then they asked:
"Are Street Sweepers sent to different parts of the City or do they
always work in the same places?"
"They always work in the same places," we answered, "and no one will
take this road away from us."
"Your eyes," they said, "are not like the eyes of any among men."
And suddenly, without cause for the thought which came to us, we felt
cold, cold to our stomach.
"How old are you?" we asked.
They understood our thought, for they lowered their eyes for the first
"Seventeen," they whispered.
And we sighed, as if a burden had been taken from us, for we had been
thinking without reason of the Palace of Mating. And we thought that we
would not let the Golden One be sent to the Palace. How to prevent it,
how to bar the will of the Councils, we knew not, but we knew suddenly
that we would. Only we do not know why such thought came to us, for
these ugly matters bear no relation to us and the Golden One. What
relation can they bear?
Still, without reason, as we stood there by the hedge, we felt our lips
drawn tight with hatred, a sudden hatred for all our brother men. And
the Golden One saw it and smiled slowly, and there was in their smile
the first sadness we had seen in them. We think that in the wisdom of
women the Golden One had understood more than we can understand.
Then three of the sisters in the field appeared, coming toward the road,
so the Golden One walked away from us. They took the bag of seeds, and
they threw the seeds into the furrows of earth as they walked away. But
the seeds flew wildly, for the hand of the Golden One was trembling.
Yet as we walked back to the Home of the Street Sweepers, we felt that
we wanted to sing, without reason. So we were reprimanded tonight, in
the dining hall, for without knowing it we had begun to sing aloud some
tune we had never heard. But it is not proper to sing without reason,
save at the Social Meetings.
"We are singing because we are happy," we answered the one of the Home
Council who reprimanded us.
"Indeed you are happy," they answered. "How else can men be when they
live for their brothers?"
And now, sitting here in our tunnel, we wonder about these words. It is
forbidden, not to be happy. For, as it has been explained to us, men are
free and the earth belongs to them; and all things on earth belong to
all men; and the will of all men together is good for all; and so all
men must be happy.
Yet as we stand at night in the great hall, removing our garments
for sleep, we look upon our brothers and we wonder. The heads of our
brothers are bowed. The eyes of our brothers are dull, and never do they
look one another in the eyes. The shoulders of our brothers are hunched,
and their muscles are drawn, as if their bodies were shrinking and
wished to shrink out of sight. And a word steals into our mind, as we
look upon our brothers, and that word is fear.
There is fear hanging in the air of the sleeping halls, and in the air
of the streets. Fear walks through the City, fear without name, without
shape. All men feel it and none dare to speak.
We feel it also, when we are in the Home of the Street Sweepers. But
here, in our tunnel, we feel it no longer. The air is pure under the
ground. There is no odor of men. And these three hours give us strength
for our hours above the ground.
Our body is betraying us, for the Council of the Home looks with
suspicion upon us. It is not good to feel too much joy nor to be glad
that our body lives. For we matter not and it must not matter to us
whether we live or die, which is to be as our brothers will it. But we,
Equality 7-2521, are glad to be living. If this is a vice, then we wish
Yet our brothers are not like us. All is not well with our brothers.
There are Fraternity 2-5503, a quiet boy with wise, kind eyes, who cry
suddenly, without reason, in the midst of day or night, and their body
shakes with sobs so they cannot explain. There are Solidarity 9-6347,
who are a bright youth, without fear in the day; but they scream in
their sleep, and they scream: "Help us! Help us! Help us!" into the
night, in a voice which chills our bones, but the Doctors cannot cure
And as we all undress at night, in the dim light of candles, our
brothers are silent, for they dare not speak the thoughts of their
minds. For all must agree with all, and they cannot know if their
thoughts are the thoughts of all, and so they fear to speak. And they
are glad when the candles are blown for the night. But we, Equality
7-2521, look through the window upon the sky, and there is peace in the
sky, and cleanliness, and dignity. And beyond the City there lies the
plain, and beyond the plain, black upon the black sky, there lies the
We do not wish to look upon the Uncharted Forest. We do not wish to
think of it. But ever do our eyes return to that black patch upon the
sky. Men never enter the Uncharted Forest, for there is no power to
explore it and no path to lead among its ancient trees which stand
as guards of fearful secrets. It is whispered that once or twice in a
hundred years, one among the men of the City escape alone and run to the
Uncharted Forest, without call or reason. These men do not return. They
perish from hunger and from the claws of the wild beasts which roam the
Forest. But our Councils say this is only a legend. We have heard that
there are many Uncharted Forests over the land, among the Cities. And it
is whispered that they have grown over the ruins of many cities of the
Unmentionable Times. The trees have swallowed the ruins, and the bones
under the ruins, and all the things which perished.
And as we look upon the Uncharted Forest far in the night, we think of
the secrets of the Unmentionable Times. And we wonder how it came
to pass that these secrets were lost to the world. We have heard the
legends of the great fighting, in which many men fought on one side
and only a few on the other. These few were the Evil Ones and they were
conquered. Then great fires raged over the land. And in these fires
the Evil Ones were burned. And the fire which is called the Dawn of the
Great Rebirth, was the Script Fire where all the scripts of the Evil
Ones were burned, and with them all the words of the Evil Ones. Great
mountains of flame stood in the squares of the Cities for three months.
Then came the Great Rebirth.
The words of the Evil Ones... The words of the Unmentionable Times...
What are the words which we have lost?
May the Council have mercy upon us! We had no wish to write such a
question, and we knew not what we were doing till we had written it. We
shall not ask this question and we shall not think it. We shall not call
death upon our head.
And yet... And yet...
There is some word, one single word which is not in the language of men,
but which has been. And this is the Unspeakable Word, which no men may
speak nor hear. But sometimes, and it is rare, sometimes, somewhere, one
among men find that word. They find it upon scraps of old manuscripts
or cut into the fragments of ancient stones. But when they speak it they
are put to death. There is no crime punished by death in this world,
save this one crime of speaking the Unspeakable Word.
We have seen one of such men burned alive in the square of the City. And
it was a sight which has stayed with us through the years, and it haunts
us, and follows us, and it gives us no rest. We were a child then, ten
years old. And we stood in the great square with all the children and
all the men of the City, sent to behold the burning. They brought the
Transgressor out into the square and they led him to the pyre. They had
torn out the tongue of the Transgressor, so that they could speak no
longer. The Transgressor were young and tall. They had hair of gold and
eyes blue as morning. They walked to the pyre, and their step did not
falter. And of all the faces on that square, of all the faces which
shrieked and screamed and spat curses upon them, theirs was the calmest
and happiest face.
As the chains were wound over their body at the stake, and a flame set
to the pyre, the Transgressor looked upon the City. There was a thin
thread of blood running from the corner of their mouth, but their lips
were smiling. And a monstrous thought came to us then, which has never
left us. We had heard of Saints. There are the Saints of Labor, and the
Saints of the Councils, and the Saints of the Great Rebirth. But we had
never seen a Saint nor what the likeness of a Saint should be. And we
thought then, standing in the square, that the likeness of a Saint was
the face we saw before us in the flames, the face of the Transgressor of
the Unspeakable Word.
As the flames rose, a thing happened which no eyes saw but ours, else
we would not be living today. Perhaps it had only seemed to us. But it
seemed to us that the eyes of the Transgressor had chosen us from the
crowd and were looking straight upon us. There was no pain in their eyes
and no knowledge of the agony of their body. There was only joy in them,
and pride, a pride holier than it is fit for human pride to be. And it
seemed as if these eyes were trying to tell us something through the
flames, to send into our eyes some word without sound. And it seemed as
if these eyes were begging us to gather that word and not to let it go
from us and from the earth. But the flames rose and we could not guess
What—even if we have to burn for it like the Saint of the pyre—what
is the Unspeakable Word?
We, Equality 7-2521, have discovered a new power of nature. And we have
discovered it alone, and we are to know it.
It is said. Now let us be lashed for it, if we must. The Council of
Scholars has said that we all know the things which exist and therefore
all the things which are not known by all do not exist. But we think
that the Council of Scholars is blind. The secrets of this earth are not
for all men to see, but only for those who will seek them. We know, for
we have found a secret unknown to all our brothers.
We know not what this power is nor whence it comes. But we know its
nature, we have watched it and worked with it. We saw it first two years
ago. One night, we were cutting open the body of a dead frog when we saw
its leg jerking. It was dead, yet it moved. Some power unknown to men
was making it move. We could not understand it. Then, after many tests,
we found the answer. The frog had been hanging on a wire of copper; and
it had been the metal of our knife which had sent a strange power to the
copper through the brine of the frog's body. We put a piece of copper
and a piece of zinc into a jar of brine, we touched a wire to them, and
there, under our fingers, was a miracle which had never occurred before,
a new miracle and a new power.
This discovery haunted us. We followed it in preference to all our
studies. We worked with it, we tested in more ways than we can describe,
and each step was another miracle unveiling before us. We came to know
that we had found the greatest power on earth. For it defies all the
laws known to men. It makes the needle move and turn on the compass
which we stole from the Home of the Scholars; but we had been taught,
when still a child, that the loadstone points to the north and this is
a law which nothing can change; yet our new power defies all laws. We
found that it causes lightning, and never have men known what causes
lightning. In thunderstorms, we raised a tall rod of iron by the side
of our hole, and we watched it from below. We have seen the lightning
strike it again and again. And now we know that metal draws the power of
the sky, and that metal can be made to give it forth.
We have built strange things with this discovery of ours. We used for
it the copper wires which we found here under the ground. We have walked
the length of our tunnel, with a candle lighting the way. We could go
no farther than half a mile, for earth and rock had fallen at both ends.
But we gathered all the things we found and we brought them to our work
place. We found strange boxes with bars of metal inside, with many
cords and strands and coils of metal. We found wires that led to strange
little globes of glass on the walls; they contained threads of metal
thinner than a spider's web.
These things help us in our work. We do not understand them, but we
think that the men of the Unmentionable Times had known our power of the
sky, and these things had some relation to it. We do not know, but we
shall learn. We cannot stop now, even though it frightens us that we are
alone in our knowledge.
No single one can possess greater wisdom than the many Scholars who are
elected by all men for their wisdom. Yet we can. We do. We have fought
against saying it, but now it is said. We do not care. We forget all
men, all laws and all things save our metals and our wires. So much is
still to be learned! So long a road lies before us, and what care we if
we must travel it alone!
Many days passed before we could speak to the Golden One again. But
then came the day when the sky turned white, as if the sun had burst and
spread its flame in the air, and the fields lay still without breath,
and the dust of the road was white in the glow. So the women of the
field were weary, and they tarried over their work, and they were far
from the road when we came. But the Golden One stood alone at the hedge,
waiting. We stopped and we saw that their eyes, so hard and scornful to
the world, were looking at us as if they would obey any word we might
And we said:
"We have given you a name in our thoughts, Liberty 5-3000."
"What is our name?" they asked.
"The Golden One."
"Nor do we call you Equality 7-2521 when we think of you."
"What name have you given us?"
They looked straight into our eyes and they held their head high and
For a long time we could not speak. Then we said:
"Such thoughts are forbidden, Golden One."
"But you think such thoughts as these and you wish us to think them."
We looked into their eyes and we could not lie.
"Yes," we whispered, and they smiled, and then we said: "Our dearest
one, do not obey us."
They stepped back, and their eyes were wide and still.
"Speak those words again," they whispered.
"Which words?" we asked. But they did not answer, and we knew it.
"Our dearest one," we whispered.
Never have men said this to women.
The head of the Golden One bowed slowly, and they stood still before us,
their arms at their sides, the palms of their hands turned to us, as if
their body were delivered in submission to our eyes. And we could not
Then they raised their head, and they spoke simply and gently, as if
they wished us to forget some anxiety of their own.
"The day is hot," they said, "and you have worked for many hours and you
must be weary."
"No," we answered.
"It is cooler in the fields," they said, "and there is water to drink.
Are you thirsty?"
"Yes," we answered, "but we cannot cross the hedge."
"We shall bring the water to you," they said.
Then they knelt by the moat, they gathered water in their two hands,
they rose and they held the water out to our lips.
We do not know if we drank that water. We only knew suddenly that their
hands were empty, but we were still holding our lips to their hands, and
that they knew it but did not move.
We raised our head and stepped back. For we did not understand what had
made us do this, and we were afraid to understand it.
And the Golden One stepped back, and stood looking upon their hands
in wonder. Then the Golden One moved away, even though no others were
coming, and they moved stepping back, as if they could not turn from us,
their arms bent before them, as if they could not lower their hands.
We made it. We created it. We brought it forth from the night of the
ages. We alone. Our hands. Our mind. Ours alone and only.
We know not what we are saying. Our head is reeling. We look upon
the light which we had made. We shall be forgiven for anything we say
Tonight, after more days and trials than we can count, we finished
building a strange thing, from the remains of the Unmentionable Times,
a box of glass, devised to give forth the power of the sky of greater
strength than we had ever achieved before. And when we put our wires to
this box, when we closed the current—the wire glowed! It came to life,
it turned red, and a circle of light lay on the stone before us.
We stood, and we held our head in our hands. We could not conceive of
that which we had created. We had touched no flint, made no fire. Yet
here was light, light that came from nowhere, light from the heart of
We blew out the candle. Darkness swallowed us. There was nothing left
around us, nothing save night and a thin thread of flame in it, as a
crack in the wall of a prison. We stretched our hands to the wire, and
we saw our fingers in the red glow. We could not see our body nor feel
it, and in that moment nothing existed save our two hands over a wire
glowing in a black abyss.
Then we thought of the meaning of that which lay before us. We can light
our tunnel, and the City, and all the Cities of the world with nothing
save metal and wires. We can give our brothers a new light, cleaner and
brighter than any they have ever known. The power of the sky can be made
to do men's bidding. There are no limits to its secrets and its might,
and it can be made to grant us anything if we but choose to ask.
Then we knew what we must do. Our discovery is too great for us to waste
our time in sweeping streets. We must not keep our secret to ourselves,
nor buried under the ground. We must bring it into the sight of all
men. We need all our time, we need the work rooms of the Home of the
Scholars, we want the help of our brother Scholars and their wisdom
joined to ours. There is so much work ahead for all of us, for all the
Scholars of the world.
In a month, the World Council of Scholars is to meet in our City. It is
a great Council, to which the wisest of all lands are elected, and it
meets once a year in the different Cities of the earth. We shall go to
this Council and we shall lay before them, as our gift, the glass box
with the power of the sky. We shall confess everything to them. They
will see, understand and forgive. For our gift is greater than our
transgression. They will explain it to the Council of Vocations, and we
shall be assigned to the Home of the Scholars. This has never been done
before, but neither has a gift such as ours ever been offered to men.
We must wait. We must guard our tunnel as we had never guarded it
before. For should any men save the Scholars learn of our secret, they
would not understand it, nor would they believe us. They would see
nothing, save our crime of working alone, and they would destroy us and
our light. We care not about our body, but our light is...
Yes, we do care. For the first time we do care about our body. For this
wire is a part of our body, as a vein torn from us, glowing with our
blood. Are we proud of this thread of metal, or of our hands which made
it, or is there a line to divide these two?
We stretch out our arms. For the first time do we know how strong our
arms are. And a strange thought comes to us: we wonder, for the first
time in our life, what we look like. Men never see their own faces and
never ask their brothers about it, for it is evil to have concern for
their own faces or bodies. But tonight, for a reason we cannot fathom,
we wish it were possible to us to know the likeness of our own person.
We have not written for thirty days. For thirty days we have not been
here, in our tunnel. We had been caught.
It happened on that night when we wrote last. We forgot, that night, to
watch the sand in the glass which tells us when three hours have passed
and it is time to return to the City Theatre. When we remembered, the
sand had run out.
We hastened to the Theatre. But the big tent stood grey and silent
against the sky. The streets of the City lay before us, dark and empty.
If we went back to hide in our tunnel, we would be found and our light
with us. So we walked to the Home of the Street Sweepers.
When the Council of the Home questioned us, we looked upon the faces of
the Council, but there was no curiosity in those faces, and no anger,
and no mercy. So when the oldest of them asked us: "Where have you
been?" we thought of our glass box and of our light, and we forgot all
else. And we answered:
"We will not tell you."
The oldest did not question us further. They turned to the two youngest,
and said, and their voice was bored:
"Take our brother Equality 7-2521 to the Palace of Corrective Detention.
Lash them until they tell."
So we were taken to the Stone Room under the Palace of Corrective
Detention. This room has no windows and it is empty save for an iron
post. Two men stood by the post, naked but for leather aprons and
leather hoods over their faces. Those who had brought us departed,
leaving us to the two Judges who stood in a corner of the room. The
Judges were small, thin men, grey and bent. They gave the signal to the
two strong hooded ones.
They tore our clothes from our body, they threw us down upon our knees
and they tied our hands to the iron post.
The first blow of the lash felt as if our spine had been cut in two. The
second blow stopped the first, and for a second we felt nothing, then
pain struck us in our throat and fire ran in our lungs without air. But
we did not cry out.
The lash whistled like a singing wind. We tried to count the blows, but
we lost count. We knew that the blows were falling upon our back. Only
we felt nothing upon our back any longer. A flaming grill kept dancing
before our eyes, and we thought of nothing save that grill, a grill,
a grill of red squares, and then we knew that we were looking at the
squares of the iron grill in the door, and there were also the squares
of stone on the walls, and the squares which the lash was cutting upon
our back, crossing and re-crossing itself in our flesh.
Then we saw a fist before us. It knocked our chin up, and we saw the red
froth of our mouth on the withered fingers, and the Judge asked:
"Where have you been?"
But we jerked our head away, hid our face upon our tied hands, and bit
The lash whistled again. We wondered who was sprinkling burning coal
dust upon the floor, for we saw drops of red twinkling on the stones
Then we knew nothing, save two voices snarling steadily, one after the
other, even though we knew they were speaking many minutes apart:
"Where have you been where have you been where have you been where have
And our lips moved, but the sound trickled back into our throat, and the
sound was only:
"The light... The light... The light...."
Then we knew nothing.
We opened our eyes, lying on our stomach on the brick floor of a cell.
We looked upon two hands lying far before us on the bricks, and we moved
them, and we knew that they were our hands. But we could not move our
body. Then we smiled, for we thought of the light and that we had not
We lay in our cell for many days. The door opened twice each day, once
for the men who brought us bread and water, and once for the Judges.
Many Judges came to our cell, first the humblest and then the most
honored Judges of the City. They stood before us in their white togas,
and they asked:
"Are you ready to speak?"
But we shook our head, lying before them on the floor. And they
We counted each day and each night as it passed. Then, tonight, we knew
that we must escape. For tomorrow the World Council of Scholars is to
meet in our City.
It was easy to escape from the Palace of Corrective Detention. The locks
are old on the doors and there are no guards about. There is no reason
to have guards, for men have never defied the Councils so far as to
escape from whatever place they were ordered to be. Our body is healthy
and strength returns to it speedily. We lunged against the door and
it gave way. We stole through the dark passages, and through the dark
streets, and down into our tunnel.
We lit the candle and we saw that our place had not been found and
nothing had been touched. And our glass box stood before us on the cold
oven, as we had left it. What matter they now, the scars upon our back!
Tomorrow, in the full light of day, we shall take our box, and leave our
tunnel open, and walk through the streets to the Home of the Scholars.
We shall put before them the greatest gift ever offered to men. We shall
tell them the truth. We shall hand to them, as our confession, these
pages we have written. We shall join our hands to theirs, and we shall
work together, with the power of the sky, for the glory of mankind. Our
blessing upon you, our brothers! Tomorrow, you will take us back into
your fold and we shall be an outcast no longer. Tomorrow we shall be one
of you again. Tomorrow...
It is dark here in the forest. The leaves rustle over our head, black
against the last gold of the sky. The moss is soft and warm. We shall
sleep on this moss for many nights, till the beasts of the forest come
to tear our body. We have no bed now, save the moss, and no future, save
We are old now, yet we were young this morning, when we carried our
glass box through the streets of the City to the Home of the Scholars.
No men stopped us, for there were none about the Palace of Corrective
Detention, and the others knew nothing. No men stopped us at the gate.
We walked through the empty passages and into the great hall where the
World Council of Scholars sat in solemn meeting.
We saw nothing as we entered, save the sky in the great windows, blue
and glowing. Then we saw the Scholars who sat around a long table; they
were as shapeless clouds huddled at the rise of a great sky. There were
the men whose famous names we knew, and others from distant lands whose
names we had not heard. We saw a great painting on the wall over their
heads, of the twenty illustrious men who had invented the candle.
All the heads of the Council turned to us as we entered. These great and
wise of the earth did not know what to think of us, and they looked upon
us with wonder and curiosity, as if we were a miracle. It is true that
our tunic was torn and stained with brown stains which had been blood.
We raised our right arm and we said:
"Our greeting to you, our honored brothers of the World Council of
Then Collective 0-0009, the oldest and wisest of the Council, spoke and
"Who are you, our brother? For you do not look like a Scholar."
"Our name is Equality 7-2521," we answered, "and we are a Street Sweeper
of this City."
Then it was as if a great wind had stricken the hall, for all the
Scholars spoke at once, and they were angry and frightened.
"A Street Sweeper! A Street Sweeper walking in upon the World Council of
Scholars! It is not to be believed! It is against all the rules and all
But we knew how to stop them.
"Our brothers!" we said. "We matter not, nor our transgression. It
is only our brother men who matter. Give no thought to us, for we are
nothing, but listen to our words, for we bring you a gift such as has
never been brought to men. Listen to us, for we hold the future of
mankind in our hands."
Then they listened.
We placed our glass box on the table before them. We spoke of it, and of
our long quest, and of our tunnel, and of our escape from the Palace of
Corrective Detention. Not a hand moved in that hall, as we spoke, nor an
eye. Then we put the wires to the box, and they all bent forward and sat
still, watching. And we stood still, our eyes upon the wire. And slowly,
slowly as a flush of blood, a red flame trembled in the wire. Then the
But terror struck the men of the Council. They leapt to their feet, they
ran from the table, and they stood pressed against the wall, huddled
together, seeking the warmth of one another's bodies to give them
We looked upon them and we laughed and said:
"Fear nothing, our brothers. There is a great power in these wires, but
this power is tamed. It is yours. We give it to you."
Still they would not move.
"We give you the power of the sky!" we cried. "We give you the key to
the earth! Take it, and let us be one of you, the humblest among you.
Let us work together, and harness this power, and make it ease the toil
of men. Let us throw away our candles and our torches. Let us flood our
cities with light. Let us bring a new light to men!"
But they looked upon us, and suddenly we were afraid. For their eyes
were still, and small, and evil.
"Our brothers!" we cried. "Have you nothing to say to us?"
Then Collective 0-0009 moved forward. They moved to the table and the
"Yes," spoke Collective 0-0009, "we have much to say to you."
The sound of their voice brought silence to the hall and to the beat of
"Yes," said Collective 0-0009, "we have much to say to a wretch who have
broken all the laws and who boast of their infamy! How dared you think
that your mind held greater wisdom than the minds of your brothers? And
if the Council had decreed that you be a Street Sweeper, how dared
you think that you could be of greater use to men than in sweeping the
"How dared you, gutter cleaner," spoke Fraternity 9-3452, "to hold
yourself as one alone and with the thoughts of one and not of many?"
"You shall be burned at the stake," said Democracy 4-6998.
"No, they shall be lashed," said Unanimity 7-3304, "till there is
nothing left under the lashes."
"No," said Collective 0-0009, "we cannot decide upon this, our brothers.
No such crime has ever been committed, and it is not for us to judge.
Nor for any small Council. We shall deliver this creature to the World
Council itself and let their will be done."
We looked upon them and we pleaded:
"Our brothers! You are right. Let the will of the Council be done upon
our body. We do not care. But the light? What will you do with the
Collective 0-0009 looked upon us, and they smiled.
"So you think you have found a new power," said Collective 0-0009. "Do
you think all your brothers think that?"
"No," we answered.
"What is not thought by all men cannot be true," said Collective 0-0009.
"You have worked on this alone?" asked International 1-5537.
"Yes," we answered.
"What is not done collectively cannot be good," said International
"Many men in the Homes of the Scholars have had strange new ideas in the
past," said Solidarity 8-1164, "but when the majority of their brother
Scholars voted against them, they abandoned their ideas, as all men
"This box is useless," said Alliance 6-7349.
"Should it be what they claim of it," said Harmony 9-2642, "then it
would bring ruin to the Department of Candles. The Candle is a great
boon to mankind, as approved by all men. Therefore it cannot be
destroyed by the whim of one."
"This would wreck the Plans of the World Council," said Unanimity
2-9913, "and without the Plans of the World Council the sun cannot rise.
It took fifty years to secure the approval of all the Councils for the
Candle, and to decide upon the number needed, and to re-fit the Plans so
as to make candles instead of torches. This touched upon thousands and
thousands of men working in scores of States. We cannot alter the Plans
again so soon."
"And if this should lighten the toil of men," said Similarity 5-0306,
"then it is a great evil, for men have no cause to exist save in toiling
for other men."
Then Collective 0-0009 rose and pointed at our box.
"This thing," they said, "must be destroyed."
And all the others cried as one:
"It must be destroyed!"
Then we leapt to the table.
We seized our box, we shoved them aside, and we ran to the window. We
turned and we looked at them for the last time, and a rage, such as is
not fit for humans to know, choked our voice in our throat.
"You fools!" we cried. "You fools! You thrice-damned fools!"
We swung our fist through the windowpane, and we leapt out in a ringing
rain of glass.
We fell, but we never let the box fall from our hands. Then we ran. We
ran blindly, and men and houses streaked past us in a torrent without
shape. And the road seemed not to be flat before us, but as if it were
leaping up to meet us, and we waited for the earth to rise and strike us
in the face. But we ran. We knew not where we were going. We knew only
that we must run, run to the end of the world, to the end of our days.
Then we knew suddenly that we were lying on a soft earth and that we had
stopped. Trees taller than we had ever seen before stood over us in a
great silence. Then we knew. We were in the Uncharted Forest. We had
not thought of coming here, but our legs had carried our wisdom, and our
legs had brought us to the Uncharted Forest against our will.
Our glass box lay beside us. We crawled to it, we fell upon it, our face
in our arms, and we lay still.
We lay thus for a long time. Then we rose, we took our box, and walked
on into the forest.
It mattered not where we went. We knew that men would not follow us,
for they never entered the Uncharted Forest. We had nothing to fear
from them. The forest disposes of its own victims. This gave us no fear
either. Only we wished to be away from the City and the air that touches
upon the air of the City. So we walked on, our box in our arms, our
We are doomed. Whatever days are left to us, we shall spend them alone.
And we have heard of the corruption to be found in solitude. We have
torn ourselves from the truth which is our brother men, and there is no
road back for us, and no redemption.
We know these things, but we do not care. We care for nothing on earth.
We are tired.
Only the glass box in our arms is like a living heart that gives us
strength. We have lied to ourselves. We have not built this box for the
good of our brothers. We built it for its own sake. It is above all our
brothers to us, and its truth above their truth. Why wonder about this?
We have not many days to live. We are walking to the fangs awaiting us
somewhere among the great, silent trees. There is not a thing behind us
Then a blow of pain struck us, our first and our only. We thought of the
Golden One. We thought of the Golden One whom we shall never see again.
Then the pain passed. It is best. We are one of the Damned. It is best
if the Golden One forget our name and the body which bore that name.
It has been a day of wonder, this, our first day in the forest.
We awoke when a ray of sunlight fell across our face. We wanted to leap
to our feet, as we have had to leap to our feet every morning of our
life, but we remembered suddenly that no bell had rung and that there
was no bell to ring anywhere. We lay on our back, we threw our arms
out, and we looked up at the sky. The leaves had edges of silver that
trembled and rippled like a river of green and fire flowing high above
We did not wish to move. We thought suddenly that we could lie thus as
long as we wished, and we laughed aloud at the thought. We could also
rise, or run, or leap, or fall down again. We were thinking that these
were things without sense, but before we knew it, our body had risen in
one leap. Our arms stretched out of their own will, and our body whirled
and whirled, till it raised a wind to rustle through the leaves of the
bushes. Then our hands seized a branch and swung us high into a tree,
with no aim save the wonder of learning the strength of our body. The
branch snapped under us and we fell upon the moss that was soft as a
cushion. Then our body, losing all sense, rolled over and over on the
moss, dry leaves in our tunic, in our hair, in our face. And we heard
suddenly that we were laughing, laughing aloud, laughing as if there
were no power left in us save laughter.
Then we took our glass box, and we went into the forest. We went on,
cutting through the branches, and it was as if we were swimming through
a sea of leaves, with the bushes as waves rising and falling and rising
around us, and flinging their green sprays high to the treetops. The
trees parted before us, calling us forward. The forest seemed to welcome
us. We went on, without thought, without care, with nothing to feel save
the song of our body.
We stopped when we felt hunger. We saw birds in the tree branches, and
flying from under our footsteps. We picked a stone and we sent it as an
arrow at a bird. It fell before us. We made a fire, we cooked the bird,
and we ate it, and no meal had ever tasted better to us. And we thought
suddenly that there was a great satisfaction to be found in the food
which we need and obtain by our own hand. And we wished to be hungry
again and soon, that we might know again this strange new pride in
Then we walked on. And we came to a stream which lay as a streak of
glass among the trees. It lay so still that we saw no water but only a
cut in the earth, in which the trees grew down, upturned, and the sky at
the bottom. We knelt by the stream and we bent down to drink. And then
we stopped. For, upon the blue of the sky below us, we saw our own face
for the first time.
We sat still and we held our breath. For our face and our body were
beautiful. Our face was not like the faces of our brothers, for we felt
no pity when we looked upon it. Our body was not like the bodies of our
brothers, for our limbs were straight and thin and hard and strong. And
we thought that we could trust this being who looked upon us from the
stream, and that we had nothing to fear from this being.
We walked on till the sun had set. When the shadows gathered among the
trees, we stopped in a hollow between the roots, where we shall sleep
tonight. And suddenly, for the first time this day, we remembered that
we are the Damned. We remembered it, and we laughed.
We are writing this on the paper we had hidden in our tunic together
with the written pages we had brought for the World Council of Scholars,
but never given to them. We have much to speak of to ourselves, and we
hope we shall find the words for it in the days to come. Now, we cannot
speak, for we cannot understand.
We have not written for many days. We did not wish to speak. For we
needed no words to remember that which has happened to us.
It was on our second day in the forest that we heard steps behind us. We
hid in the bushes, and we waited. The steps came closer. And then we saw
the fold of a white tunic among the trees, and a gleam of gold.
We leapt forward, we ran to them, and we stood looking upon the Golden
They saw us, and their hands closed into fists, and the fists pulled
their arms down, as if they wished their arms to hold them, while their
body swayed. And they could not speak.
We dared not come too close to them. We asked, and our voice trembled:
"How come you to be here, Golden One?"
But they whispered only:
"We have found you...."
"How came you to be in the forest?" we asked.
They raised their head, and there was a great pride in their voice; they
"We have followed you."
Then we could not speak, and they said:
"We heard that you had gone to the Uncharted Forest, for the whole City
is speaking of it. So on the night of the day when we heard it, we ran
away from the Home of the Peasants. We found the marks of your feet
across the plain where no men walk. So we followed them, and we went
into the forest, and we followed the path where the branches were broken
by your body."
Their white tunic was torn, and the branches had cut the skin of their
arms, but they spoke as if they had never taken notice of it, nor of
weariness, nor of fear.
"We have followed you," they said, "and we shall follow you wherever you
go. If danger threatens you, we shall face it also. If it be death,
we shall die with you. You are damned, and we wish to share your
They looked upon us, and their voice was low, but there was bitterness
and triumph in their voice:
"Your eyes are as a flame, but our brothers have neither hope nor fire.
Your mouth is cut of granite, but our brothers are soft and humble. Your
head is high, but our brothers cringe. You walk, but our brothers crawl.
We wish to be damned with you, rather than be blessed with all our
brothers. Do as you please with us, but do not send us away from you."
Then they knelt, and bowed their golden head before us.
We had never thought of that which we did. We bent to raise the Golden
One to their feet, but when we touched them, it was as if madness had
stricken us. We seized their body and we pressed our lips to theirs. The
Golden One breathed once, and their breath was a moan, and then their
arms closed around us.
We stood together for a long time. And we were frightened that we had
lived for twenty-one years and had never known what joy is possible to
Then we said:
"Our dearest one. Fear nothing of the forest. There is no danger in
solitude. We have no need of our brothers. Let us forget their good and
our evil, let us forget all things save that we are together and that
there is joy between us. Give us your hand. Look ahead. It is our own
world, Golden One, a strange, unknown world, but our own."
Then we walked on into the forest, their hand in ours.
And that night we knew that to hold the body of a woman in our arms is
neither ugly nor shameful, but the one ecstasy granted to the race of
We have walked for many days. The forest has no end, and we seek no end.
But each day added to the chain of days between us and the City is like
an added blessing.
We have made a bow and many arrows. We can kill more birds than we need
for our food; we find water and fruit in the forest. At night, we choose
a clearing, and we build a ring of fires around it. We sleep in the
midst of that ring, and the beasts dare not attack us. We can see their
eyes, green and yellow as coals, watching us from the tree branches
beyond. The fires smolder as a crown of jewels around us, and smoke
stands still in the air, in columns made blue by the moonlight. We sleep
together in the midst of the ring, the arms of the Golden One around us,
their head upon our breast.
Some day, we shall stop and build a house, when we shall have gone far
enough. But we do not have to hasten. The days before us are without
end, like the forest.
We cannot understand this new life which we have found, yet it seems so
clear and so simple. When questions come to puzzle us, we walk faster,
then turn and forget all things as we watch the Golden One following.
The shadows of leaves fall upon their arms, as they spread the branches
apart, but their shoulders are in the sun. The skin of their arms is
like a blue mist, but their shoulders are white and glowing, as if the
light fell not from above, but rose from under their skin. We watch the
leaf which has fallen upon their shoulder, and it lies at the curve
of their neck, and a drop of dew glistens upon it like a jewel. They
approach us, and they stop, laughing, knowing what we think, and they
wait obediently, without questions, till it pleases us to turn and go
We go on and we bless the earth under our feet. But questions come to
us again, as we walk in silence. If that which we have found is the
corruption of solitude, then what can men wish for save corruption? If
this is the great evil of being alone, then what is good and what is
Everything which comes from the many is good. Everything which comes
from one is evil. Thus we have been taught with our first breath. We
have broken the law, but we have never doubted it. Yet now, as we walk
the forest, we are learning to doubt.
There is no life for men, save in useful toil for the good of their
brothers. But we lived not, when we toiled for our brothers, we were
only weary. There is no joy for men, save the joy shared with all their
brothers. But the only things which taught us joy were the power created
in our wires, and the Golden One. And both these joys belong to us
alone, they come from us alone, they bear no relation to our brothers,
and they do not concern our brothers in any way. Thus do we wonder.
There is some error, one frightful error, in the thinking of men. What
is that error? We do not know, but the knowledge struggles within us,
struggles to be born.
Today, the Golden One stopped suddenly and said:
"We love you."
But then they frowned and shook their head and looked at us helplessly.
"No," they whispered, "that is not what we wished to say."
They were silent, then they spoke slowly, and their words were halting,
like the words of a child learning to speak for the first time:
"We are one... alone... and only... and we love you who are one...
alone... and only."
We looked into each other's eyes and we knew that the breath of a
miracle had touched us, and fled, and left us groping vainly.
And we felt torn, torn for some word we could not find.
We are sitting at a table and we are writing this upon paper made
thousands of years ago. The light is dim, and we cannot see the Golden
One, only one lock of gold on the pillow of an ancient bed. This is our
We came upon it today, at sunrise. For many days we have been crossing a
chain of mountains. The forest rose among cliffs, and whenever we walked
out upon a barren stretch of rock we saw great peaks before us in the
west, and to the north of us, and to the south, as far as our eyes could
see. The peaks were red and brown, with the green streaks of forests as
veins upon them, with blue mists as veils over their heads. We had never
heard of these mountains, nor seen them marked on any map. The Uncharted
Forest has protected them from the Cities and from the men of the
We climbed paths where the wild goat dared not follow. Stones rolled
from under our feet, and we heard them striking the rocks below, farther
and farther down, and the mountains rang with each stroke, and long
after the strokes had died. But we went on, for we knew that no men
would ever follow our track nor reach us here.
Then today, at sunrise, we saw a white flame among the trees, high on a
sheer peak before us. We thought that it was a fire and we stopped.
But the flame was unmoving, yet blinding as liquid metal. So we climbed
toward it through the rocks. And there, before us, on a broad summit,
with the mountains rising behind it, stood a house such as we had never
seen, and the white fire came from the sun on the glass of its windows.
The house had two stories and a strange roof flat as a floor. There was
more window than wall upon its walls, and the windows went on straight
around corners, though how this house kept standing we could not guess.
The walls were hard and smooth, of that stone unlike stone which we had
seen in our tunnel.
We both knew it without words: this house was left from the
Unmentionable Times. The trees had protected it from time and weather,
and from men who have less pity than time and weather. We turned to the
Golden One and we asked:
"Are you afraid?"
But they shook their head. So we walked to the door, and we threw it
open, and we stepped together into the house of the Unmentionable Times.
We shall need the days and the years ahead, to look, to learn and to
understand the things of this house. Today, we could only look and try
to believe the sight of our eyes. We pulled the heavy curtains from the
windows and we saw that the rooms were small, and we thought that not
more than twelve men could have lived here. We thought it strange that
man had been permitted to build a house for only twelve.
Never had we seen rooms so full of light. The sunrays danced upon
colors, colors, and more colors than we thought possible, we who had
seen no houses save the white ones, the brown ones and the grey. There
were great pieces of glass on the walls, but it was not glass, for when
we looked upon it we saw our own bodies and all the things behind us, as
on the face of a lake. There were strange things which we had never
seen and the use of which we do not know. And there were globes of glass
everywhere, in each room, the globes with the metal cobwebs inside, such
as we had seen in our tunnel.
We found the sleeping hall and we stood in awe upon its threshold. For
it was a small room and there were only two beds in it. We found no
other beds in the house, and then we knew that only two had lived here,
and this passes understanding. What kind of world did they have, the men
of the Unmentionable Times?
We found garments, and the Golden One gasped at the sight of them. For
they were not white tunics, nor white togas; they were of all colors, no
two of them alike. Some crumbled to dust as we touched them, but others
were of heavier cloth, and they felt soft and new in our fingers.
We found a room with walls made of shelves, which held rows of
manuscripts, from the floor to the ceiling. Never had we seen such
a number of them, nor of such strange shape. They were not soft and
rolled, they had hard shells of cloth and leather; and the letters on
their pages were small and so even that we wondered at the men who had
such handwriting. We glanced through the pages, and we saw that they
were written in our language, but we found many words which we could not
understand. Tomorrow, we shall begin to read these scripts.
When we had seen all the rooms of the house, we looked at the Golden One
and we both knew the thought in our minds.
"We shall never leave this house," we said, "nor let it be taken from
us. This is our home and the end of our journey. This is your house,
Golden One, and ours, and it belongs to no other men whatever as far as
the earth may stretch. We shall not share it with others, as we share
not our joy with them, nor our love, nor our hunger. So be it to the end
of our days."
"Your will be done," they said.
Then we went out to gather wood for the great hearth of our home. We
brought water from the stream which runs among the trees under our
windows. We killed a mountain goat, and we brought its flesh to be
cooked in a strange copper pot we found in a place of wonders, which
must have been the cooking room of the house.
We did this work alone, for no words of ours could take the Golden One
away from the big glass which is not glass. They stood before it and
they looked and looked upon their own body.
When the sun sank beyond the mountains, the Golden One fell asleep on
the floor, amidst jewels, and bottles of crystal, and flowers of silk.
We lifted the Golden One in our arms and we carried them to a bed, their
head falling softly upon our shoulder. Then we lit a candle, and we
brought paper from the room of the manuscripts, and we sat by the
window, for we knew that we could not sleep tonight.
And now we look upon the earth and sky. This spread of naked rock and
peaks and moonlight is like a world ready to be born, a world that
waits. It seems to us it asks a sign from us, a spark, a first
commandment. We cannot know what word we are to give, nor what great
deed this earth expects to witness. We know it waits. It seems to say
it has great gifts to lay before us. We are to speak. We are to give its
goal, its highest meaning to all this glowing space of rock and sky.
We look ahead, we beg our heart for guidance in answering this call no
voice has spoken, yet we have heard. We look upon our hands. We see the
dust of centuries, the dust which hid great secrets and perhaps great
evils. And yet it stirs no fear within our heart, but only silent
reverence and pity.
May knowledge come to us! What is this secret our heart has understood
and yet will not reveal to us, although it seems to beat as if it were
endeavoring to tell it?
I am. I think. I will.
My hands... My spirit... My sky... My forest... This earth of mine....
What must I say besides? These are the words. This is the answer.
I stand here on the summit of the mountain. I lift my head and I spread
my arms. This, my body and spirit, this is the end of the quest. I
wished to know the meaning of things. I am the meaning. I wished to
find a warrant for being. I need no warrant for being, and no word of
sanction upon my being. I am the warrant and the sanction.
It is my eyes which see, and the sight of my eyes grants beauty to the
earth. It is my ears which hear, and the hearing of my ears gives its
song to the world. It is my mind which thinks, and the judgment of my
mind is the only searchlight that can find the truth. It is my will
which chooses, and the choice of my will is the only edict I must
Many words have been granted me, and some are wise, and some are false,
but only three are holy: "I will it!"
Whatever road I take, the guiding star is within me; the guiding star
and the loadstone which point the way. They point in but one direction.
They point to me.
I know not if this earth on which I stand is the core of the universe
or if it is but a speck of dust lost in eternity. I know not and I
care not. For I know what happiness is possible to me on earth. And my
happiness needs no higher aim to vindicate it. My happiness is not
the means to any end. It is the end. It is its own goal. It is its own
Neither am I the means to any end others may wish to accomplish. I am
not a tool for their use. I am not a servant of their needs. I am not a
bandage for their wounds. I am not a sacrifice on their altars.
I am a man. This miracle of me is mine to own and keep, and mine to
guard, and mine to use, and mine to kneel before!
I do not surrender my treasures, nor do I share them. The fortune of my
spirit is not to be blown into coins of brass and flung to the winds as
alms for the poor of the spirit. I guard my treasures: my thought, my
will, my freedom. And the greatest of these is freedom.
I owe nothing to my brothers, nor do I gather debts from them. I ask
none to live for me, nor do I live for any others. I covet no man's
soul, nor is my soul theirs to covet.
I am neither foe nor friend to my brothers, but such as each of them
shall deserve of me. And to earn my love, my brothers must do more than
to have been born. I do not grant my love without reason, nor to any
chance passer-by who may wish to claim it. I honor men with my love. But
honor is a thing to be earned.
I shall choose friends among men, but neither slaves nor masters. And I
shall choose only such as please me, and them I shall love and respect,
but neither command nor obey. And we shall join our hands when we wish,
or walk alone when we so desire. For in the temple of his spirit, each
man is alone. Let each man keep his temple untouched and undefiled. Then
let him join hands with others if he wishes, but only beyond his holy
For the word "We" must never be spoken, save by one's choice and as a
second thought. This word must never be placed first within man's soul,
else it becomes a monster, the root of all the evils on earth, the root
of man's torture by men, and an unspeakable lie.
The word "We" is as lime poured over men, which sets and hardens to
stone, and crushes all beneath it, and that which is white and that
which is black are lost equally in the grey of it. It is the word by
which the depraved steal the virtue of the good, by which the weak steal
the might of the strong, by which the fools steal the wisdom of the
What is my joy if all hands, even the unclean, can reach into it? What
is my wisdom, if even the fools can dictate to me? What is my freedom,
if all creatures, even the botched and impotent, are my masters? What is
my life, if I am but to bow, to agree, and to obey?
But I am done with this creed of corruption.
I am done with the monster of "We," the word of serfdom, of plunder, of
misery, falsehood and shame.
And now I see the face of god, and I raise this god over the earth, this
god whom men have sought since men came into being, this god who will
grant them joy and peace and pride.
This god, this one word:
It was when I read the first of the books I found in my house that I
saw the word "I." And when I understood this word, the book fell from
my hands, and I wept, I who had never known tears. I wept in deliverance
and in pity for all mankind.
I understood the blessed thing which I had called my curse. I understood
why the best in me had been my sins and my transgressions; and why I had
never felt guilt in my sins. I understood that centuries of chains and
lashes will not kill the spirit of man nor the sense of truth within
I read many books for many days. Then I called the Golden One, and I
told her what I had read and what I had learned. She looked at me and
the first words she spoke were:
"I love you."
Then I said:
"My dearest one, it is not proper for men to be without names. There was
a time when each man had a name of his own to distinguish him from all
other men. So let us choose our names. I have read of a man who lived
many thousands of years ago, and of all the names in these books, his is
the one I wish to bear. He took the light of the gods and brought it to
men, and he taught men to be gods. And he suffered for his deed as all
bearers of light must suffer. His name was Prometheus."
"It shall be your name," said the Golden One.
"And I have read of a goddess," I said, "who was the mother of the earth
and of all the gods. Her name was Gaea. Let this be your name, my Golden
One, for you are to be the mother of a new kind of gods."
"It shall be my name," said the Golden One.
Now I look ahead. My future is clear before me. The Saint of the pyre
had seen the future when he chose me as his heir, as the heir of all the
saints and all the martyrs who came before him and who died for the same
cause, for the same word, no matter what name they gave to their cause
and their truth.
I shall live here, in my own house. I shall take my food from the earth
by the toil of my own hands. I shall learn many secrets from my books.
Through the years ahead, I shall rebuild the achievements of the past,
and open the way to carry them further, the achievements which are open
to me, but closed forever to my brothers, for their minds are shackled
to the weakest and dullest among them.
I have learned that the power of the sky was known to men long ago;
they called it Electricity. It was the power that moved their greatest
inventions. It lit this house with light that came from those globes of
glass on the walls. I have found the engine which produced this light.
I shall learn how to repair it and how to make it work again. I shall
learn how to use the wires which carry this power. Then I shall build a
barrier of wires around my home, and across the paths which lead to
my home; a barrier light as a cobweb, more impassable than a wall of
granite; a barrier my brothers will never be able to cross. For they
have nothing to fight me with, save the brute force of their numbers. I
have my mind.
Then here, on this mountaintop, with the world below me and nothing
above me but the sun, I shall live my own truth. Gaea is pregnant with
my child. He will be taught to say "I" and to bear the pride of it.
He will be taught to walk straight on his own feet. He will be taught
reverence for his own spirit.
When I shall have read all the books and learned my new way, when my
home will be ready and my earth tilled, I shall steal one day, for
the last time, into the cursed City of my birth. I shall call to me my
friend who has no name save International 4-8818, and all those like
him, Fraternity 2-5503, who cries without reason, and Solidarity 9-6347
who calls for help in the night, and a few others. I shall call to me
all the men and the women whose spirit has not been killed within them
and who suffer under the yoke of their brothers. They will follow me
and I shall lead them to my fortress. And here, in this uncharted
wilderness, I and they, my chosen friends, my fellow-builders, shall
write the first chapter in the new history of man.
These are the last things before me. And as I stand here at the door of
glory, I look behind me for the last time. I look upon the history of
men, which I have learned from the books, and I wonder. It was a long
story, and the spirit which moved it was the spirit of man's freedom.
But what is freedom? Freedom from what? There is nothing to take a man's
freedom away from him, save other men. To be free, a man must be free of
his brothers. That is freedom. That and nothing else.
At first, man was enslaved by the gods. But he broke their chains. Then
he was enslaved by the kings. But he broke their chains. He was enslaved
by his birth, by his kin, by his race. But he broke their chains. He
declared to all his brothers that a man has rights which neither god nor
king nor other men can take away from him, no matter what their number,
for his is the right of man, and there is no right on earth above this
right. And he stood on the threshold of freedom for which the blood of
the centuries behind him had been spilled.
But then he gave up all he had won, and fell lower than his savage
What brought it to pass? What disaster took their reason away from
men? What whip lashed them to their knees in shame and submission? The
worship of the word "We."
When men accepted that worship, the structure of centuries collapsed
about them, the structure whose every beam had come from the thought of
some one man, each in his day down the ages, from the depth of some
one spirit, such as spirit existed but for its own sake. Those men who
survived—those eager to obey, eager to live for one another, since they
had nothing else to vindicate them—those men could neither carry on,
nor preserve what they had received. Thus did all thought, all science,
all wisdom perish on earth. Thus did men—men with nothing to offer save
their great numbers—lose the steel towers, the flying ships, the
power wires, all the things they had not created and could never keep.
Perhaps, later, some men had been born with the mind and the courage to
recover these things which were lost; perhaps these men came before the
Councils of Scholars. They answered as I have been answered—and for the
But I still wonder how it was possible, in those graceless years of
transition, long ago, that men did not see whither they were going, and
went on, in blindness and cowardice, to their fate. I wonder, for it is
hard for me to conceive how men who knew the word "I," could give it up
and not know what they had lost. But such has been the story, for I have
lived in the City of the damned, and I know what horror men permitted to
be brought upon them.
Perhaps, in those days, there were a few among men, a few of clear sight
and clean soul, who refused to surrender that word. What agony must
have been theirs before that which they saw coming and could not stop!
Perhaps they cried out in protest and in warning. But men paid no heed
to their warning. And they, those few, fought a hopeless battle, and
they perished with their banners smeared by their own blood. And they
chose to perish, for they knew. To them, I send my salute across the
centuries, and my pity.
Theirs is the banner in my hand. And I wish I had the power to tell them
that the despair of their hearts was not to be final, and their night
was not without hope. For the battle they lost can never be lost. For
that which they died to save can never perish. Through all the darkness,
through all the shame of which men are capable, the spirit of man will
remain alive on this earth. It may sleep, but it will awaken. It may
wear chains, but it will break through. And man will go on. Man, not
Here, on this mountain, I and my sons and my chosen friends shall build
our new land and our fort. And it will become as the heart of the earth,
lost and hidden at first, but beating, beating louder each day. And word
of it will reach every corner of the earth. And the roads of the world
will become as veins which will carry the best of the world's blood to
my threshold. And all my brothers, and the Councils of my brothers, will
hear of it, but they will be impotent against me. And the day will come
when I shall break the chains of the earth, and raze the cities of the
enslaved, and my home will become the capital of a world where each man
will be free to exist for his own sake.
For the coming of that day I shall fight, I and my sons and my chosen
friends. For the freedom of Man. For his rights. For his life. For his
And here, over the portals of my fort, I shall cut in the stone the word
which is to be my beacon and my banner. The word which will not die,
should we all perish in battle. The word which can never die on this
earth, for it is the heart of it and the meaning and the glory.
The sacred word: