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,
[-but-] {+and+} we could not believe what we saw.
No [-men-] {+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
stepped back.
"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 {+a+} 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 rewarded."
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 [-all-] 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-] {+not+} other men on earth.
And if ever we surrender it, we shall surrender our life with it
also."
Then we saw that [-they-] {+the+} eyes of International 4-8818 were full to
the lids with tears {+with tears+} they dared not [-drop.
They-] {+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 [-out-] 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,-] {+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 [-which-] we have piled upon
the iron grill to hide it from [-the-] men. Each night, for three hours,
we are under the earth, alone.
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 {+the+} 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. [-But we
wish no end to 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 [-that
which-] {+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-] {+heart--strange+} are the ways of [-evil!--in-] {+evil!--
in+} our heart there is the first peace we have known in twenty years.
[-PART TWO-]
{+Chapter Two+}
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 [-is-] {+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 [-did-] we know fear, and then pain.
And we stood still that we might not spill this pain more
precious than pleasure.
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 mist.
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 [-into-] {+in+} our eyes. There was no smile on their face, and no
welcome. But their face was [-taut,-] {+taught,+} and their eyes were dark.
Then they turned as swiftly, and they walked away from us.
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,
[-as-] {+and+} we felt as if a hand had touched our
body, slipping softly from our lips to our feet.
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-] {+don+} not know why,
when we think of them, we feel [-all-] 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,-] {+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-] {+buy+} 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,-]
{+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,-] {+golden one,+}
and we saw the shadows of their lashes on their white cheeks and
the sparks of sun on their lips. And we said:
"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 time.
"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,-] {+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-] {+to+} 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 no virtue.
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 Solidarity 9-6347.
And as we all undress at night, in the dim light of [-the-] 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 Uncharted Forest.
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 [-that-] this is only a legend. We have heard that there are
many Uncharted Forests over the land, among the Cities.
[-And-] {+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 . . .-] {+Ones...+} The words of the Unmentionable [-Times . . .-]
{+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 [-no-] {+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.