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.
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.
um bloque de missatges sem significado e pedantes como o carago se los putogoeses se substituiran.... per etiquetes individuals ganhávamos algo ou...no? crear putogoeses enllaços no apareixerà en aquests queques? no rastrejar-lo enterra-lo...
dilluns, 2 de juny del 2014
"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.
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en qualsevol moment si tornes a volver ô no, no se suprimiran els enllaços entre ...ahn? quien es?