e assigned to the Home of the Scholars. This has never been done
before, but neither has a gift such as ours ever been offered to men.

We must wait. We must guard our tunnel as we had never guarded it
before. For should any men save the Scholars learn of our secret, they
would not understand it, nor would they believe us. They would see
nothing, save our crime of working alone, and they would destroy us and
our light. We care not about our body, but our light is...

Yes, we do care. For the first time we do care about our body. For this
wire is a part of our body, as a vein torn from us, glowing with our
blood. Are we proud of this thread of metal, or of our hands which made
it, or is there a line to divide these two?

We stretch out our arms. For the first time do we know how strong our
arms are. And a strange thought comes to us: we wonder, for the first
time in our life, what we look like. Men never see their own faces and
never ask their brothers about it, for it is evil to have concern for
their own faces or bodies. But tonight, for a reason we cannot fathom,
we wish it were possible to us to know the likeness of our own person.

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, 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
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