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PART SIX
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
it, 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
found 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 the 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 the 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 our lips.
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 around us.
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 you been? . . ."
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 betrayed it.
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 departed.
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 . . .
Content of PART SIX [Ayn Rand's novella: Anthem]
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