Individuality -- Fiction; Love stories; Men -- Psychology -- Fiction; Psychological fiction; Science fiction; Time travel -- Fiction
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-] {+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-]
{+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 [-has-] said "Carpenter" or "Cook," the Students so
assigned go to [-work,-] {+work+} and [-they-] do not study any further. But if the
Council has said "Leader," then those [-Students-] {+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."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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