Anthem
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Ayn Rand >> Anthem
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Chapter One
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 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."
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 your bodies."
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 forbade it.
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 all ailments.
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 days.
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:
"Street Sweeper."
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 hundred beds.
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 us.
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
forbidden."
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
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 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 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 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 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.