Individuality -- Fiction; Love stories; Men -- Psychology -- Fiction; Psychological fiction; Science fiction; Time travel -- Fiction
And yet there is no shame in us and no regret. We say to
ourselves that we are a wretch and a traitor. But we feel no
burden upon our spirit and no fear in our heart. And it seems to
us that our spirit is clear as a lake troubled by no eyes save those
of the sun. And in our [-heart--
strange-] {+heart--strange+} are the ways of [-evil!--in-] {+evil!--
in+} our heart there is the first peace we have known in twenty years.
[-PART TWO-]
{+Chapter Two+}
Liberty 5-3000 . . . Liberty five-three thousand . . . Liberty 5-3000 . . . .
We wish to write this name. We wish to speak it, but we dare not
speak it above a whisper. For men are forbidden to take notice of
women, and women are forbidden to take notice of men. But we
think of one among women, they whose name is Liberty 5-3000, and
we think of no others.
The women who have been assigned to work the soil live in the
Homes of the Peasants beyond the City. Where the City ends there
is a great road winding off to the north, and we Street Sweepers
must keep this road clean to the first milepost. There is a hedge
along the road, and beyond the hedge lie the fields. The fields
are black and ploughed, and they lie like a great fan before us,
with their furrows gathered in some hand beyond the sky,
spreading forth from that hand, opening wide apart as they come
toward us, like black pleats that sparkle with thin, green
spangles. Women work in the fields, and their white tunics in the
wind are like the wings of sea-gulls beating over the black
soil.
And there [-is-] {+it+} was that we saw Liberty 5-3000 walking along the
furrows. Their body was straight and thin as a blade of iron.
Their eyes were dark and hard and glowing, with no fear in them,
no kindness and no guilt. Their hair was golden as the sun; their
hair flew in the wind, shining and wild, as if it defied men to
restrain it. They threw seeds from their hand as if they deigned
to fling a scornful gift, and the earth was a beggar under their
feet.
We stood still; for the first time [-did-] we know fear, and then pain.
And we stood still that we might not spill this pain more
precious than pleasure.
Then we heard a voice from the others call their name: "Liberty
5-3000," and they turned and walked back. Thus we learned their
name, and we stood watching them go, till their white tunic was
lost in the blue mist.
And the following day, as we came to the northern road, we kept
our eyes upon Liberty 5-3000 in the field. And each day
thereafter we knew the illness of waiting for our hour on the
northern road. And there we looked at Liberty 5-3000 each day. We
know not whether they looked at us also, but we think they did.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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