Anthem
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 repeat to ourselves whenever we are
tempted:
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 State. Amen."
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