[-PART SIX-]
{+Chapter 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,-] {+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
[-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-] {+judges+} were small, thin men, grey and bent.
They gave the signal to the two strong hooded ones.
They tore [-the-] {+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 [-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.-] {+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-] {+flying+} 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, [-or-] {+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 . . .
