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-] {+hands+} 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-] {+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 [-the-] {+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. Ever have the Teachers and the Leaders pointed to us and
frowned and said: "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 {+are required to+} 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."-] {+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-] {+in+} 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.

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-] {+crimes+} of crimes hidden here
under the ground.

We remember the Home of the Infants where we lived till we were
five years old, together with all the children of the City who
had been born in the same year. The sleeping halls there were
white and clean and bare of all things save one hundred beds. We
were just like all our brothers then, save for the one
transgression: we fought with our brothers. There are few
offenses blacker than to fight with our brothers, at any age and
for any cause whatsoever. The Council of the Home told us so, and
of all the children of that year, we were locked in the cellar
most often.

When we were five years old, we were sent to the Home of the
Students, where there are ten wards, for our ten years of
learning. Men must learn till they reach their fifteenth year.
Then they go to work. In the Home of the Students we arose when
the big bell rang in the tower and we went to our beds when it
rang again. Before we removed our garments, we stood in the great
sleeping hall, and we raised our right arms, and we said all
together with the three Teachers at the head:

"We are nothing. Mankind is all. By the grace of our brothers are
we allowed our lives. We exist through, by and for our brothers
who are the State. Amen."

Then we slept. The sleeping halls were white and clean and bare
of all things save one hundred beds.

We, Equality 7-2521, were not happy in those years in the Home of
the Students. It was not that the learning was too hard for us.
It was that the learning was too easy. This is a great sin, to be
born with a head which is too quick. It is not good to be
different from our brothers, but it is evil to be superior to
them. The Teachers told us so, and they frowned when they looked
upon us.

So we fought against this curse. We tried to forget our lessons,
but we always remembered. We tried not to understand what the [-Teachers-]
{+teachers+} taught, but we always understood it before the Teachers
had spoken. We looked upon Union [-5-3992,-] {+5-3992+} who were a pale boy with
only half a brain, and we tried to say and do as they did, that
we might be like them, like Union 5-3992, but somehow the
Teachers knew that we were not. And we were lashed more often
than all the other children.

The Teachers were just, for they had been appointed by the
Councils, and the Councils are the [-voice-] {+voices+} of all justice, for
they are the voice of all men. And if sometimes, in the secret
darkness of our heart, we regret that which befell us on our
fifteenth birthday, we know that it was through our own guilt. We
had broken a law, for we had not paid heed to the words of our
Teachers. The Teachers had said to us all:

"Dare not choose in your minds the work you would like to do
when you leave the Home of the Students. You shall do
[-that which-] {+what+} the
Council of [-Vocations-] {+Vocation+} shall prescribe for you. For the Council of
Vocations knows in its great wisdom where you are needed by your
brother men, better than you can know it in your unworthy little
minds. And if you are not needed by your brother [-man,-] {+men,+} there is no
reason for you to burden the earth with your bodies."

We knew this well, in the years of our childhood, but our curse
broke our will. We were guilty and we confess it here: we were
guilty of the great Transgression of Preference. We preferred
some work and some lessons to the others. We did not listen well
to the history of all the Councils elected since the Great
Rebirth. But we [-love-] {+loved+} the Science of Things. We wished to know.
We wished to know about all the things which [-make-] {+makes+} the earth
around us. We asked so many questions that the Teachers forbade it.

We think that there are mysteries in the
[-sky,-] {+sky+} and [-under-] the water and in
the plants which grow. But the Council of Scholars has said that
there are no mysteries, and the Council of Scholars knows all
things. And we learned much from our Teachers. We learned that
the earth is flat and that the sun revolves around it, which
causes the day and [-the-] night. We learned the names of all the winds
which blow over the seas and push the sails of our great ships.
We learned how to bleed men to cure them of all ailments.

We [-love-] {+loved+} the Science of Things. And in the darkness, in the
secret hour, when we awoke in the night and there were no brothers
around us, but only their shapes in the beds and their snores,
we closed our eyes, and we held our lips shut, and we
stopped our breath, that no shudder might let our brothers see or
hear or guess, and we thought that we wished to be sent to the
Home of the Scholars when our time would come.

All {+of+} the great modern inventions come from the Home of the
Scholars, such as the newest one, which was found only a hundred
years ago, of how to make candles from wax and string; also, how
to make glass, which is put in our windows to protect us from the
rain. To find these things, the Scholars must study the earth and
learn from the rivers, from the sands, from the winds and the
rocks. And if we went to the Home of the Scholars, we could learn
from these also. We could ask questions of these, for they do not
forbid questions.

And questions give us no rest. We know not why our curse makes us
seek we know not what, ever and ever. But we cannot resist it. It
whispers to us that there are great things on this earth of ours,
and that we [-can know them
if we try, and that we-] must know them. We ask, why must we know, but it has
no answer to give us. We must know that we may know.

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."

We felt the cords of our neck grow tight as our head rose higher
to look upon the faces of the Council, and we were happy. We [-knew-] {+know+}
we had been guilty, but now we had a way to atone for it. We
would accept our Life Mandate, and we would work for our
brothers, gladly and willingly, and we would erase our sin
against them, which they did not know, but we knew. So we were
happy, and proud of ourselves and of our victory over ourselves.
We raised our right arm and we spoke, and our voice was the
clearest, the steadiest voice in the hall that day, and we said:

"The will of our brothers be done."

And we looked straight into the eyes of the Council, but their
eyes were as cold {+as+} blue glass buttons.

So we went into the Home of the Street Sweepers. It is a grey
house on a narrow street. There is a sundial in its courtyard, by
which the Council of the Home can tell the hours of the day and
when to ring the bell. When the bell rings, we all arise from our
beds.  [-They-] {+The+} sky is green and cold in our windows to the east. The
shadow on the sundial marks off a half-hour while we dress and
eat our breakfast in the dining hall, where there are five long
tables with twenty clay plates and twenty clay cups on each
table. Then we go to work in the streets of the City, with our
brooms and our rakes. In five hours, when the sun is high, we
return to the Home and we eat our midday meal, for which
one-half hour is allowed. Then we go to work again. In five
hours, the shadows are blue on the pavements, and the sky is blue
with a deep brightness which is not bright. We come back to have
our dinner, which lasts one hour. Then the bell rings and we walk
in a straight column to one of the City Halls, for the Social
Meeting. Other columns of men arrive from the Homes of the
different Trades. The candles are lit, and the Councils of the
different Homes stand in a pulpit, and they speak to us of our
duties and of our brother men. Then visiting Leaders mount the
pulpit and they read to us the speeches which were made in the
City Council that day, for the City Council represents all men
and all men must know. Then we sing hymns, the Hymn of
Brotherhood, and the Hymn of Equality, and the Hymn of the
Collective Spirit. The sky is a soggy purple when we return to
the Home. Then the bell rings and we walk in a straight column to
the City Theatre for three hours of Social Recreation. There a
play is shown upon the stage, with two great choruses from the
Home of the Actors, which speak and answer all together, in two
great voices. The plays are about toil and how good it is. Then
we walk back to the Home [-is-] {+in+} a straight column. The sky is like a
black sieve pierced by silver drops that tremble, ready to burst
through. The moths beat against the street lanterns. We go to our
beds and we sleep, till the bell rings again. The sleeping halls
are white and clean and bare of all things save one hundred beds.

Thus have we lived each day of four years, until two springs ago
when our crime happened. Thus must all men live until they are
forty. At forty, they are worn out. At forty, they are sent to
the Home of the Useless, where the Old Ones live. The Old Ones do
not work, for the State takes care of them. They sit in the sun
in summer and they sit by the fire in winter. They do not speak
often, for they are weary. The Old Ones know that they are soon
to die. When a miracle happens and some live to be forty-five,
they are the
[-ancient ones,-] {+Ancient Ones,+} and [-the-] children stare at them when
passing by the Home of the Useless. Such is to be our life, as
that of all our brothers and of the brothers who came before us.

Such would have been our life, had we not committed our crime
which {+has+} changed all things for us. And it was our curse which
drove us to our crime. We had been a good Street Sweeper and like
all our brother Street Sweepers, save for our cursed wish to
know. We looked too long at the stars at night, and at the trees
and the earth. And when we cleaned the yard of the Home of the
Scholars, we gathered the glass vials, the pieces of metal, the
dried bones which they had discarded. We wished to keep these
things and to study them, but we had no place to hide them. So we
carried them to the City Cesspool. And then we made the
discovery.

It was on a day of the spring before last. We Street Sweepers
work in brigades of three, and we were with Union 5-3992, they of
the [-half brain,-] {+half-brain,+} and with International 4-8818. Now Union 5-3992
are a sickly lad and sometimes they are stricken with
convulsions, when their mouth froths and their eyes turn white.
But International 4-8818 are different. They are a tall, strong
youth and their eyes are like fireflies, for there is laughter in
their eyes. We cannot look upon International 4-8818 and not
smile in answer. For this they were not liked in the Home of the
Students, as it is not proper to smile without reason. And also
they were not liked because they took pieces of coal and they
drew pictures upon the walls, and they were pictures which made
men laugh. But it is only our brothers in the Home of the Artists
who are permitted to draw pictures, so International 4-8818 were
sent to the Home of the Street Sweepers, like ourselves.

International 4-8818 and we are friends. This is an evil thing to
say, for it is a {+great+} transgression, the great Transgression of
Preference, to love any among men better than the others, since
we must love all men and all men are our friends. So
International 4-8818 and we have never spoken of it. But we know.
We know, when we look into each other's eyes. And when we look
thus without [-words,-] {+works,+} we both know other things also, strange
things for which there are no words, and these things frighten us.

So on that day of the spring before last, Union 5-3992 were stricken
with convulsions on the edge of the City, near the City Theatre.
We left them to lie in the shade of the Theatre tent and
we went with International 4-8818 to finish our work. We came
together to the great ravine behind the Theatre. It is empty save
for trees and weeds. Beyond the ravine there is a plain, and
beyond the plain there lies the Uncharted Forest, about which men
must not think.

We were gathering the papers and the rags which the wind had
blown from the Theatre, when we saw an iron bar among the weeds.
It was old and rusted by [-man-] {+many+} rains. We pulled with all our
strength, but we could not move it. So we called International [-4-8818,-]
{+4-8818+} and together we scraped the earth around the bar. Of a
sudden the earth fell in before us, and we saw an old iron grill
over a black hole.

International 4-8818 stepped back. But we pulled at the grill and
it gave way. And then we saw iron rings as steps leading down a
shaft into a darkness without bottom.

"We shall go down," we said to International 4-8818.

"It is forbidden," they answered.

We said: "The Council does not know of this hole, so it cannot be
forbidden."

And they answered: "Since the Council does not know of this
hole, there can be no law permitting to enter it. And everything
which is not permitted by law is forbidden."

But we said: "We shall go, none the less."

They were frightened, but they stood by and watched us go.

We hung on the iron rings with our hands and {+our+} feet. We could
see nothing below us. And above us the hole [-open-] upon the sky grew
smaller and smaller, till it came to be the size of a button. But
still we went down. Then our foot touched the ground. We rubbed
our eyes, for we could not see. Then our eyes became used to the
darkness,
[-but-] {+and+} we could not believe what we saw.

No [-men-] {+man+} known to us could have built this place, nor the men known
to our brothers who lived before us, and yet it was built by men.
It was a great tunnel. Its walls were hard and smooth to the
touch; it felt like stone, but it was not stone. On the ground
there were long thin tracks of iron, but it was not iron; it felt
smooth and cold as glass. We knelt, and we crawled forward, our
hand groping along the iron line to see where it would lead. But
there was an unbroken night ahead. Only the iron tracks glowed
through it, straight and white, calling us to follow. But we
could not follow, for we were losing the puddle of light behind
us. So we turned and we crawled back, our hand on the iron line.
And our heart beat in our fingertips, without reason. And then we knew.

We knew suddenly that this place was left from the Unmentionable Times.
So it was true, and those Times had been, and all the wonders
of those Times. Hundreds upon hundreds of years ago men knew
secrets which we have lost. And we thought: "This is a foul
place. They are damned who touch the things of the Unmentionable
Times." But our hand which followed the track, as we crawled,
clung to the iron as if it would not leave it, as if the skin of
our hand were thirsty and begging of the metal some secret fluid
beating in its coldness.

We returned to the earth. International 4-8818 looked upon us and
stepped back.

"Equality 7-2521," they said, "your face is white."

But we could not speak and we stood looking upon them.

They backed away, as if they dared not touch us. Then they
smiled, but it was {+a+} not a gay smile; it was lost and pleading.
But still we could not speak. Then they said:

"We shall report our find to the City Council and both of us
will be rewarded."

And then we spoke. Our voice was hard and there was no mercy in
our voice. We said:

"We shall not report our find to the City Council. We shall not
report it to any men."

They raised their hands to their ears, for never had they heard
such words as these.

"International 4-8818," we asked, "will you report us to the
Council and see us lashed to death before your eyes?"

They stood straight [-all-] of a sudden and they answered:

"Rather would we die."

"Then," we said, "keep silent. This place is ours. This place
belongs to us, Equality 7-2521, and to
[-no-] {+not+} other men on earth.
And if ever we surrender it, we shall surrender our life with it
also."

Then we saw that [-they-] {+the+} eyes of International 4-8818 were full to
the lids with tears {+with tears+} they dared not [-drop.
They-] {+drop, they+}
whispered, and their voice trembled, so that their words lost all
shape:

"The will of the Council is above all things, for it is the will
of our brothers, which is holy. But if you wish it so, we shall
obey you. Rather shall we be evil with you than good with all our
brothers. May the Council have mercy upon both our hearts!"

Then we walked away together and back to the Home of the Street
Sweepers. And we walked in silence.

Thus did it come to pass that each night, when the stars are high
and the Street Sweepers sit in the City Theatre, we, Equality
7-2521, steal out and run through the darkness to our place. It
is easy to leave the Theatre; when the candles are blown [-out-] and the
Actors come onto the stage, no eyes can see us as we crawl under
our seat and under the cloth of the tent.  [-Later,-] {+Later+} it is easy to
steal through the shadows and fall in line next to International
4-8818, as the column leaves the Theatre. It is dark in the
streets and there are no men about, for no men may walk through
the City when they have no mission to walk there. Each night, we
run to the ravine, and we remove the stones [-which-] we have piled upon
the iron grill to hide it from [-the-] men. Each night, for three hours,
we are under the earth, alone.

We have stolen candles from the Home of the Street Sweepers, we
have stolen flints and knives and paper, and we have brought them
to this place. We have stolen glass vials and powders and acids
from the Home of the Scholars. Now we sit in the tunnel for three
hours each night and we study. We melt strange metals, and we mix
acids, and we cut open the bodies of the animals which we find in
the City Cesspool. We have built an oven of the bricks we
gathered in the streets. We burn the wood we find in the ravine.
The fire flickers in the oven and blue shadows dance upon the
walls, and there is no sound of men to disturb us.

We have stolen manuscripts. This is a great offense. Manuscripts
are precious, for our brothers in the Home of the Clerks spend
one year to copy one single script in their clear handwriting.
Manuscripts are rare and they are kept in the Home of the
Scholars. So we sit under the earth and we read the stolen
scripts. Two years have passed since we found this place. And in
these two years we have learned more than we had learned in the
ten years of the Home of the Students.

We have learned things which are not in the scripts. We have
solved {+the+} secrets of which the Scholars have no knowledge. We
have come to see how great is the unexplored, and many lifetimes
will not bring us to the end of our quest.  [-But we
wish no end to our quest.-] We wish nothing, save
to be alone and to learn, and to feel as if with each day our
sight were growing sharper than the hawk's and clearer than rock
crystal.

Strange are the ways of evil. We are false in the faces of our
brothers. We are defying the will of our Councils. We alone, of
the thousands who walk this earth, we alone in this hour are
doing a work which has no purpose save that we wish to do it. The
evil of our crime is not for the human mind to probe. The nature
of our punishment, if it be discovered, is not {+free+} for the human
heart to ponder. Never, not in the memory of the Ancient Ones'
Ancients, never have men done [-that
which-] {+what+} we are doing.

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.

Always referring to himself as "we," a youth named Equality 7-2521 writes in a journal from underground, where he is alone in an abandoned railroad tunnel. He and his friend International 4-8818 discovered the tunnel when they were working as street sweepers behind the theater near the edge of the unnamed city where they live. Equality 7-2521, ignoring International 4-8818's objections that it is forbidden because the Council has not allowed it, goes down into the tunnel to explore. He concludes that the tunnel must have been built by men during the Unmentionable Times of long ago, and it must therefore be an evil place. Nonetheless, he is drawn to the train tracks that he finds there, and when he reemerges from the hole, he makes International 4-8818 promise not to tell anyone about the hole. International 4-8818, an artist who is strong and funny, is very upset by this idea because it might be forbidden, but out of a sense of loyalty to Equality 7-2521, he agrees, though even the sense of loyalty that he feels upsets him because preference of one person over another is not permitted by the Council. After he finds the tunnel, Equality 7-2521 returns to it each night by sneaking away from the group home where he lives when the others all go to the theater for the nightly show. He has stolen candles from the Home of the Street Sweepers and manuscripts from the Home of the Scholars. He writes and thinks alone in the tunnel. He acknowledges that his being alone is evil, considering the desire to be alone a part of his curse, but he feels no shame or regret about it. He very much enjoys talking to himself and for his own ears, even though he has been taught that it is evil to do anything for oneself. He knows that if he is discovered he will be punished harshly. Equality 7-2521 describes his childhood at the Home for Infants, where he lived with all the other boys of his age, in a white room with a hundred beds and nothing else in it. At the age of five, he moved to the Home of the Students, where he lived until he was fifteen. He was a troublesome child because he often fought with the other boys who lived there. His teachers disliked him because he was too smart, and the authorities chastised him because he was taller than the others. He tried to be like the other children, but his curse kept him from achieving normalcy. He especially tried to be like Union 5-3992, a dull and stupid boy in his class. His curse made him curious and pushed him to ask questions, which his teachers eventually forbade. When he turned fifteen, Equality 7-2521, like all the other boys, was assigned his task for the remainder of his life by the Council of Vocations. Equality 7-2521 desperately wanted to be assigned to the Home of the Scholars, who develop all technology for the society, including the candle, the most recent invention, discovered a century earlier. He wanted to be a scholar more than anything, even more than being a leader, a status considered a great honor in his society, allowing those so assigned to live in the Home of the Leaders, the largest building in the city. Equality 7-2521 sinned by wanting, however, and he was pleased to be able to make restitution for his sin by embracing his assigned profession--street sweeper. In the tunnel, Equality 7-2521 records in his journal how he had lived at the Home of the Street Sweepers for four years, leading the highly structured life of a street sweeper, when he discovered the tunnel with International 4-8818 and began writing his journal.

Equality 7-2521 is Rand's prophet, in the sense that he rejects all the collectivism that has come before him and ushers in a new age of individualism. His society rejects him because he is superior to it, both intellectually and physically, and, most important for Rand, in his belief that the self is important. A few are drawn to his superiority, in spite of the masses' scorn. International 4-8818, though he cannot comprehend why he feels such tremendous loyalty to his friend, is nevertheless compelled to stand by him, in defiance of everything his society has taught him. In this way, International 4-8818 operates as Equality 7-2521's disciple, following him and believing him, even though he does not understand why he does so. Moreover, we are alerted to the importance of International 4-8818's devotion through the use of dialogue, a rare occurrence in the novella. The comparison between Equality 7-2521 and traditional Judeo-Christian prophets is far from perfect, however. Although the language and the plot of the novella contain countless references to allegories from the lives of Christ and Moses and the story of Genesis, Equality 7-2521 does not reference a higher being and does not claim to come in the name of the higher power. Instead of worshipping a god of any kind, Equality 7-2521 worships himself. On the other hand, Equality 7-2521 is similar to other prophets in the sense that everything that came before is modified in light of the message he bears. Though he has been taught to believe that being alone and worshipping the self are sins, he feels no regret about doing these things because he believes them to be right, which is more important to him than anything society can teach him. Although Rand makes many allusions to actual historical details about life in Soviet Russia, Anthem is removed from any particular historical setting and placed in a kind of every-country, an unnamed future world in which individual needs are ignored in favor of the common good. Thus, the references to the Councils and to the nightly meetings at the City Theatre bear close resemblance to the state of affairs in the Soviet Union in the early twentieth century, but the total regression of all technology is an exaggeration that is not grounded in historical fact. By separating the novella from the Soviet Union, Rand makes the story a warning to all people. The novella does not just announce the dangers of adopting Russian socialism, under which many people blamed specific corruptions for the atrocities that were committed in the name of the common good. It also blames the very idea of collectivism for the demise of the human race. Rand believes that this destruction is inevitable where men come to believe in social planning, not just in the case of the specific evils of communist Russia. Although Anthem certainly makes reference to the problems plaguing Russia at the time of its publication, the work is more than just an invective against Lenin, who inaugurated the communist era in Russia, or Stalin, who carried out horrifying purges against the intellectual elite in the name of the good of the many. In the opening chapter, Rand sets up the images that occur throughout the novella to draw our attention to the values she is promoting. The most important element of this imagery is the contrasted pairs she sets up. These pairings point us toward the characters and scenarios she believes are good and those she believes are evil. For example, the dark and dingy tunnel is lit by a candle but Equality 7-2521 prefers it to the pristine white of the homes in which he has lived with all his fellow infants, students, and street sweepers. Additionally, the villains of the novella are soft, featureless, and dead-seeming, like the members of the Council of Vocations, while the hero and later the heroine are hard and strong and vibrant. Indeed, in most cases, Rand turns traditional images on their heads by making the dark and hard preferable to the light and gentle. The worst part of the collective society for Rand is its bland -obliteration of all individual characteristics and features. Thus, Equality 7-2521, the hero, is taller than his compatriots, and International 4-8818, who is also a good character, stands apart from his fellows because he has laughter in his eyes. These features mark the good characters, while the villains are indistinguishable from one another. Indeed, throughout the story, the physical world closely models the internal world, and what is good can be seen as good from the outside as well as from what Rand reveals of the inside.


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.

Then one day they came close to the hedge, and suddenly they
turned to us. They turned in a whirl and the movement of
their body stopped, as if slashed off, as suddenly as it had started.
They stood still as a stone, and they looked straight upon us,
straight [-into-] {+in+} our eyes. There was no smile on their face, and no
welcome. But their face was [-taut,-] {+taught,+} and their eyes were dark.
Then they turned as swiftly, and they walked away from us.

But the following day, when we came to the road, they smiled.
They smiled to us and for us. And we smiled in answer. Their head
fell back, and their arms fell, as if their arms and their thin
white neck were stricken suddenly with a great lassitude. They
were not looking upon us, but upon the sky. Then they glanced at
us over their shoulder,
[-as-] {+and+} we felt as if a hand had touched our
body, slipping softly from our lips to our feet.

Every morning thereafter, we greeted each other with our eyes. We
dared not speak. It is a transgression to speak to men of other
Trades, save in groups at the Social Meetings. But once, standing
at the hedge, we raised our hand to our forehead and then moved
it slowly, palm down, toward Liberty 5-3000. Had the others seen
it, they could have guessed nothing, for it looked only as if we
were shading our eyes from the sun. But Liberty 5-3000 saw it and
understood. They raised their hand to their forehead and moved it
as we had. Thus, each day, we greet Liberty 5-3000, and they
answer, and no men can suspect.

We do not wonder at this new sin of ours. It is our second
Transgression of Preference, for we do not think of all our
brothers, as we must, but only of one, and their name is Liberty
5-3000. We do not know why we think of them. We [-do-] {+don+} not know why,
when we think of them, we feel [-all-] of a sudden that the earth is good
and that it is not a burden to live.

We do not think of them as Liberty 5-3000 any longer. We have
given them a name in our thoughts. We call them the Golden One.
But it is a sin to give men {+other+} names which distinguish them
from other men. Yet we call them the Golden [-One,-] {+one,+} for they are not
like the others. The Golden One are not like the others.

And we take no heed of the law which says that men may not think
of women, save at the Time of Mating. This is the time each
spring when all the men older than twenty and all the women older
than eighteen are sent for one night to the City Palace of
Mating. And each of the men have one of the women assigned to
them
[-by-] {+buy+} the Council of Eugenics. Children are born each winter,
but women never see their children and children never know their
parents. Twice have we been sent to the Palace of Mating, but it
is an ugly and shameful matter, of which we do not like to think.

We had broken so many laws, and today we have broken one more.  [-Today,-]
{+Today+} we spoke to the Golden One.

The other women were far off in the field, when we stopped at the
hedge by the side of the road. The Golden One were kneeling alone
at the moat which runs through the field. And the drops of water
falling from their hands, as they raised the water to their lips,
were like sparks of fire in the sun. Then the Golden One saw us,
and they did not move, kneeling there, looking at us, and circles
of light played upon their white tunic, from the sun on the water
of the moat, and one sparkling drop fell from a finger of their
hand held as frozen in the air.

Then the Golden One rose and walked to the hedge, as if they had
heard a command in our eyes. The two other Street Sweepers of our
brigade were a hundred paces away down the road. And we thought
that International 4-8818 would not betray us, and Union 5-3992
would not understand. So we looked straight upon the [-Golden One,-] {+golden one,+}
and we saw the shadows of their lashes on their white cheeks and
the sparks of sun on their lips. And we said:

"You are beautiful, Liberty 5-3000."

Their face did not move and they did not avert their eyes. Only
their eyes grew wider, and there was triumph in their eyes, and
it was not triumph over us, but over things we could not guess.

Then they asked:

"What is your name?"

"Equality 7-2521," we answered.

"You are not one of our brothers, Equality 7-2521, for we do not
wish you to be."

We cannot say what they meant, for there are no words for their
meaning, but we know it without words and we knew it then.

"No," we answered, "nor are you one of our sisters."

"If you see us among scores of women, will you look upon us?"

"We shall look upon you, Liberty 5-3000, if we see you among all
the women of the earth."

Then they asked:

"Are Street Sweepers sent to different parts of the City or do
they always work in the same places?"

"They always work in the same places," we answered, "and no one
will take this road away from us."

"Your eyes," they said, "are not like the eyes of any among men."

And suddenly, without cause for the thought which came to us, we
felt cold, cold to our stomach.

"How old are you?" we asked.

They understood our thought, for they lowered their eyes for the
first time.

"Seventeen," they whispered.

And we sighed, as if a burden had been taken from us, for we had
been thinking without reason of the Palace of Mating. And we
thought that we would not let the Golden One be sent to the
Palace. How to prevent it, how to bar the will of the Councils,
we knew not, but we knew suddenly that we would. Only we do not
know why such thought came to us, for these ugly matters bear no
relation to us and the Golden One. What relation can they bear?

Still, without reason, as we stood there by the hedge, we felt
our lips drawn tight with hatred, a sudden hatred for all our
brother men. And the Golden One saw it and smiled slowly, and
there was in their smile the first sadness we had seen in them.
We think that in the wisdom of women the Golden One had
understood more than we can understand.

Then three of the sisters in the field appeared, coming toward
the road, so the Golden One walked away from us. They took the
bag of seeds, and they threw the seeds into the furrows of earth
as they walked away. But the seeds flew wildly, for the hand of
the Golden One was trembling.

Yet as we walked back to the Home of the Street Sweepers, we felt
that we wanted to sing, without reason. So we were reprimanded
tonight, in the dining hall, for without knowing it we had begun
to sing aloud some tune we had never heard. But it is not proper
to sing without reason, save at the Social Meetings.

"We are singing because we are happy," we answered the one of the
Home Council who reprimanded us.

"Indeed you are happy," they answered. "How else can men be when
they live for their brothers?"

And now, sitting here in our tunnel, we wonder about these words.
It is forbidden, not to be happy. For, as it has been explained
to us, men are free and the earth belongs to them; and all things
on earth belong to all men; and the will of all men together is
good for all; and so all men must be happy.

Yet as we stand at night in the great hall, removing our garments
for sleep, we look upon our brothers and we wonder. The heads of
our brothers are bowed. The eyes of our brothers are dull, and
never do they look one another in the eyes. The shoulders of our
brothers are hunched, and their muscles are drawn, as if their
bodies were shrinking and wished to shrink out of sight. And a
word steals into our mind, as we look upon our brothers, and that
word is fear.

There is fear hanging in the air of the sleeping halls, and in
the air of the streets. Fear walks through the [-City,-] {+city,+} fear without
name, without shape. All men feel it and none dare to speak.

We feel it also, when we are in the Home of the Street Sweepers.
But here, in our tunnel, we feel it no longer. The air is pure
under the ground. There is no odor of men. And these three hours
give us strength for our hours above the ground.

Our body is betraying us, for the Council of the Home looks with
suspicion upon us. It is not good to feel [-too-] {+to+} much joy nor to be
glad that our body lives. For we matter not and it must not
matter to us whether we live or die, which is to be as our
brothers will it. But we, Equality 7-2521, are glad to be living.
If this is a vice, then we wish no virtue.

Yet our brothers are not like us. All is not well with our
brothers. There are Fraternity 2-5503, a quiet boy with wise,
kind eyes, who cry suddenly, without reason, in the midst of day
or night, and their body shakes with sobs {+so+} they cannot explain.
There are Solidarity 9-6347, who are a bright youth, without fear
in the day; but they scream in their sleep, and they scream:
"Help us! Help us! Help us!" into the night, in a voice which
chills our bones, but the Doctors cannot cure Solidarity 9-6347.

And as we all undress at night, in the dim light of [-the-] candles, our
brothers are silent, for they dare not speak the thoughts of
their minds. For all must agree with all, and they cannot know if
their thoughts are the thoughts of all, and so they fear to
speak. And they are glad when {+the+} candles are blown for the
night. But we, Equality 7-2521, look through the window upon the
sky, and there is peace in the sky, and cleanliness, and dignity.
And beyond the City there lies the plain, and beyond the plain,
black upon the black sky, there lies the Uncharted Forest.

We do not wish to look upon the Uncharted Forest. We do not wish
to think of it. But ever do our eyes return to that black patch
upon the sky. Men never enter the Uncharted Forest, for there is
no power to explore it and no path to lead among its ancient
trees which stand as guards of fearful secrets. It is whispered
that once or twice in a hundred years, one among the men of the
City escape alone and run to the Uncharted Forest, without call
or reason. These men do not return. They perish from hunger and
from the claws of the wild beasts which roam the Forest. But our
Councils say [-that-] this is only a legend. We have heard that there are
many Uncharted Forests over the land, among the Cities.
[-And-] {+and+} it is
whispered that they have grown over the ruins of many cities of
the Unmentionable Times. The trees have swallowed the ruins, and
the bones under the ruins, and all the things which perished.

And as we look upon the Uncharted Forest far in the night, we
think of the secrets of the Unmentionable Times. And we wonder
how it came to pass that these secrets were lost to the world. We
have heard the legends of the great fighting, in which many men
fought on one side and only a few on the other. These few were
the Evil Ones and they were conquered. Then great fires raged
over the land. And in these fires the Evil Ones were {+burned. And
the fire which is called the Dawn of the Great Rebirth, was the
Script Fire where all the scripts of the Evil Ones were+} burned,
and with them all the words of the Evil Ones. Great mountains of
flame stood in the squares of the Cities for three months. Then
came the Great Rebirth.

The words of the Evil [-Ones . . .-] {+Ones...+} The words of the Unmentionable [-Times . . .-]
{+Times...+} What are the words which we have lost?

May the Council have mercy upon us! We had no wish to write such
a question, and we knew [-no-] {+not+} what we were doing till we had
written it. We shall not ask this question and we shall not
think it. We shall not call death upon our head.

And [-yet . . .-] {+yet...+} And [-yet . . .-] {+yet...+}

There is some word, one single word which is not in the language
of men, but which [-had-] {+has+} been. And this is the Unspeakable Word,
which no men may speak nor hear. But sometimes, and it is rare,
sometimes, somewhere, one among men find that word. They find it
upon scraps of old manuscripts or cut into the fragments of
ancient stones. But when they speak it they are put to death.
There is no crime punished by death in this world, save this one
crime of speaking the Unspeakable Word.

We have seen one of such men burned alive in the square of the
City. And it was a sight which has stayed with us through the
years, and it haunts us, and follows us, and it gives us no rest.
We were a child then, ten years old. And we stood in the great
square with all the children and all the men of the City, sent to
behold the burning. They brought the Transgressor out into the
square and they led [-them-] {+him+} to the pyre. They had torn out the tongue
of the Transgressor, so that they could speak no longer. The
Transgressor were young and tall. They had hair of gold and eyes
blue as morning. They walked to the pyre, and their step did not
falter. And of all the faces on that square, of all the faces
which shrieked and screamed and spat curses upon them, [-their-] {+theirs+} was
the calmest and [-the-] happiest face.

As the chains were wound over their body at the stake, and a
flame set to the pyre, the Transgressor looked upon the City.
There was a thin thread of blood running from the corner of their
mouth, but their lips were smiling. And a monstrous thought came
to us then, which has never left us. We had heard of Saints.
There are the Saints of Labor, and the Saints of the Councils,
and the Saints of the Great Rebirth. But we had never seen a
Saint nor what the likeness of a Saint should be. And we thought
then, standing in the square, that the likeness of a Saint was
the face we saw before us in the flames, the face of the
Transgressor of the Unspeakable Word.

As the flames rose, a thing happened which no eyes saw but ours,
else we would not be living today. Perhaps it had only seemed to
us. But it seemed to us that the eyes of the Transgressor had
chosen us from the crowd and were looking straight upon us. There
was no pain in their eyes and no knowledge of the agony of their
body. There was only joy in them, and pride, a pride holier than
{+it+} is fit for human pride to be. And it seemed as if these eyes
were trying to tell us something through the flames, to send into
our eyes some word without sound. And it seemed as if these eyes
were begging us to gather that word and not to let it go from us
and from the earth. But the flames rose and we could not guess
the [-word. . . .-] {+word....+}

What--even if we have to burn for it like the Saint of the [-Pyre--what-] {+pyre
--what+} is the Unspeakable Word?

There was no pain in their eyes and no knowledge of the agony of their body. There was only joy in them, and pride, a pride holier than it is fit for human pride to be.  Summary Equality 7-2521 meets Liberty 5-3000, a worker in the Home of the Peasants. She is working in the fields near the road he is sweeping when he sees her and falls in love with her. She is physically beautiful, tall, and blonde with a hard face and an unafraid expression. She sees him on the road, and the next day, she comes over to the hedges where he is working. They do not speak to each other but gesture so each recognizes the other. He comes to name Liberty 5-3000 the Golden One. Several days later, Equality 7-2521 and the Golden One speak for the first time. He tells her that she is beautiful, and she remains stoic upon receiving the compliment. She tells him she does not want him to be her brother, and he tells her that he does not want her to be his sister. On the second day, while they are looking at each other, Equality 7-2521 thinks of the City Palace of Mating, a place where all the physically mature men and women of the city are sent each year and assigned to have sex with another person. Equality 7-2521 does not understand why he thinks of the City Palace of Mating while he is looking at the Golden One, but he does not want to see her there. Fortunately, the Golden One is only seventeen, not old enough to be sent to the City Palace of Mating. Nevertheless, the thought makes Equality 7-2521 very angry, and the Golden One sees his anger and smiles. In "the wisdom of women" she understands more than Equality 7-2521. At dinner, Equality 7-2521 is reprimanded for singing out of joy. He tells the reprimanding Council Member that he is happy and that is why he sings, and the Council Member tells him that he should be happy since he lives among his brothers. In the tunnel, Equality 7-2521 meditates on the meaning of happiness and the fact that it is forbidden to be unhappy. He concludes that his brothers are not happy because they are afraid. Equality 7-2521 is not afraid when he is in his tunnel, and he concludes that he wishes not to be afraid, that he is glad to live, even though his lack of fear arouses suspicion in his brothers. He notices Fraternity 2-5503, who sobs and cries without explanation, and Solidarity 9-6347, who has screaming fits in the middle of the night. Equality 7-2521 begins to dream of the Unmentionable Times and the Uncharted Forest, which has overgrown the cities of that time. He begins to wonder what the Evil Ones, those who lived in the Unmentionable Times, thought and wrote, about whom only those in the Home of the Useless still have any memory. He wonders about the Unspeakable Word, which used to be present in the language of men but is not anymore. Speaking the Unspeakable Word is the only crime punishable by death. He recalls seeing the Transgressor of the Unspeakable Word burned alive in the town square for speaking the Unspeakable Word, and he remembers that there was no pain in his face, only joy. As he died, the Transgressor of the Unspeakable Word stared at Equality 7-2521, and Equality 7-2521 thought he looked like a saint.

In the Golden One, Equality 7-2521 finds a match for his physical perfection and stoic self-righteousness. Though she later bows to Equality 7-2521 as her master, Rand introduces the Golden One here as the pinnacle of feminine power and wisdom. The Golden One takes Equality 7-2521's affection for her as a personal triumph, and she is hard and unafraid like him. He worships her and thinks of her constantly as a goal to be achieved and an object to be admired. Even once they meet, their encounters are discreet, and he comes to her as an admirer, while she in turn accepts his admiration as the natural conclusion of her perfection. Feminists criticize Rand's view of women, arguing that it idealizes and dehumanizes them and ultimately subjugates them to the will of men. Rand, however, believes that the success of women is in their innate wisdom--an unspoken, intuitive kind of knowledge--and in their physical beauty. As with all her characters, Rand idealizes physical beauty, which sets her heroes apart from her villains. Sex and the relationship between men and women play an important role in Rand's works, including Anthem, in which she presents the City Palace of Mating as the ultimate evil in sexual relations because is allows for sex without choice. Notably, Equality 7-2521 does not even recognize the connection between his love for the Golden One and his physical lust, and he feels shame at the idea that he could be forced to have sex with the Golden One or to witness her be forced to have sex with someone else. For Rand, sex is not sex without choice, and so there is no connection at all between the City Palace of Mating and the pure love felt by Equality 7-2521 for the Golden One. Equality 7-2521's meditations on happiness involve fear and freedom, a contrast that runs throughout Anthem. For Rand, happiness is possible only with absolute freedom, and freedom erases all possibility of fear. Fear accompanies the introduction of arbitrary power into human existence, epitomized by the forcing of individuals to work for the good of others. The Transgressor of the Unspeakable Word is another example of the impossibility of fear in the face of freedom. Though he is burned on the pyre, he is unafraid of death or torture because he has learned to speak of himself as "I." Rand does not explicitly say why the Transgressor is not afraid, but his bravery can be explained by the fact that Rand's philosophy holds that individualism brings great happiness and that it is worth dying to experience one's own sense of self. Though the Transgressor's death, of course, mirrors the tales of Judeo-Christian saints and martyrs, the nature of his martyrdom contrasts with the nature of theirs. In Christian stories, the saints suffer on earth, even as they die, in the knowledge that they will be rewarded for their suffering with heaven. They firmly hold the ideal for which they are martyred, but the martyrdom itself is torturous. For Rand, by contrast, true happiness and ideals are possible on earth, and so death in the name of an ideal is its own reward. Her characters do not suffer for their faith; rather, their faith provides their happiness. The discussion of the Unmentionable Times alerts us to the fact that this is not a society that has failed to achieve greatness but rather one that has forgotten that which made it great. This -difference is important, as the existence of this past provides Equality 7-2521 WITH A GLIMPSE OF AN alternative MODEL FOR SOCIETy and for his own existence. Rand does not specify how long before Equality 7-2521's time this fall from greatness occurred, but it occurred recently enough that the people in the Home of the Useless still recall the old times and that Equality 7-2521 knows that the Uncharted Forest was not always there--that it sprung up over the old cities. The knowledge of this past gives Equality 7-2521 something to aspire to, and his growing obsession with the Unmentionable Times foreshadows his eventual break from the society that constrains him.


We, Equality 7-2521, have discovered a new power of nature. And
we have discovered it alone, and we [-alone-] are to know it.

It is said. Now let us be lashed for it, if we must. The Council
of Scholars has said that we all know the things which exist and
therefore {+all+} the things which are not known by all do not exist.
But we think that the Council of Scholars is blind. The secrets
of this earth are not for all men to see, but only for those who
will seek them. We know, for we have found a secret unknown to
all our brothers.

We know not what this power is nor whence [-is-] {+it+} comes. But we know
its nature, we have watched it and worked with it. We saw it
first two years ago. One night, we were cutting open the body of
a dead frog when we [-saw-] {+say+} its leg jerking. It was dead, yet it
moved. Some power unknown to men was making it move. We could not
understand it. Then, after many tests, we found the answer. The
frog had been hanging on a wire of copper; and it had been the
metal of our knife which had sent
[-the-] {+a+} strange power to the copper
through the brine of the frog's body. We put a piece of copper
and a piece of zinc into a jar of brine, we touched a wire to
them, and there, under our fingers, was a miracle which had never
occurred before, a new miracle and a new power.

This discovery haunted us. We followed it in preference to all
our studies. We worked with it, we tested [-it-] in more ways than we
can describe, and each step was [-as-] another miracle unveiling before
us. We came to know that we had found the greatest power on
earth. For it defies all the laws known to men. It makes the
needle move and turn on the compass which we stole from the Home
of the Scholars; but we had been taught, when still a child, that
the loadstone points to the north and [-that-] this is a law which nothing
can change; yet our new power defies all laws. We found that it
causes lightning, and never have men known what causes lightning.
In thunderstorms, we raised a tall rod of iron by the side of our
hole, and we watched it from below. We have seen the
[-lightning-] {+lightening+}
strike it again and again. And now we know that metal draws the
power of the sky, and that metal can be made to give it forth.

We have built strange things with this discovery of ours. We used
for it the copper wires which we found here under the ground. We
have walked the length of our tunnel, with a candle lighting the
way. We could go no farther [-that-] {+than+} half a mile, for earth and rock
had fallen at both ends. But we gathered all the things we found
and we brought them to our work place. We found strange boxes
with bars of metal inside, with many cords and strands and coils
of metal. We found wires that led to strange little globes of
glass on the walls; they contained threads of metal thinner than
a spider's web.

These things help us in our work. We do not understand them, but
we think that the men of the Unmentionable Times had known our
power of the sky, and these things had some relation to it. We do
not know, but we shall learn. We cannot stop now, even though it
frightens us that we are alone in our knowledge.

No single one can possess greater wisdom  [-that-] {+than+} the many Scholars
who are elected by all men for their wisdom. Yet we can. We do.
We have fought against saying it, but now it is said. We do not
care. We forget all men, all laws and all things save our metals
and our wires. So much is still to be learned! So long a road
lies before us, and what care we if we must travel it alone!

While dissecting a frog hanging on a copper wire, Equality 7-2521 discovers the power of electricity, which he explores in his tunnel underground. In his journal, he recounts his experiments: he makes a magnet move using electricity and creates a lighting rod outside the tunnel. He explores his tunnel to look for technology, and he discovers unidentified boxes with wires and switches and lightbulbs, although he does not yet know how to use them. He worries that he is the only person in the world with this knowledge because he has been taught that the Council of Scholars knows everything and that all men share all collective knowledge. Along these lines of thinking, anything known by only one person cannot be true by virtue of the fact that not everyone knows it. At first Equality 7-2521 says that he has discovered a new power that was previously unknown to any man. This power frightens him even though he believes it is a very important and potent force. Later, Equality 7-2521 concludes that electricity is the power of the sky, and that men in the Unmentionable Times had harnessed the power of the sky. He becomes an avid scientist, exploring the power of electricity, and in his quest he realizes how much he does not know and how much of his previous learning had been mistaken. Equality 7-2521 announces in his journal that he knows more than the Council of Scholars, something which his society believes is impossible

Equality 7-2521's break with society manifests itself in both explicit and more subtle, structural ways. With the discovery of electricity, Equality 7-2521 moves away from his musings on the state of his society and less frequently exhorts the Councils to forgive him. Instead, he writes with newfound fervor for his scientific exploration. This shift signifies his increasing independence from the society around him because it shows him finding truth in the external world rather than in the opinions of others. Nevertheless, at this point in the novella, Equality 7-2521 still worries about the conventions of society, especially about the fact that his discoveries are his alone. Later, he breaks entirely with such conventions, but here he still doubts what he thinks he knows about himself and the world around him. Such doubts allow us to witness the slow and gradual process of his leaving society. The content of the conversations that Equality 7-2521 has with others constitutes important markers of his progress toward an eventual break from his society. Because these conversations are rare--Anthem consists almost entirely of musings about the state of the natural and human world and thus often bears resemblance to a scientific journal or a religious meditation--they gain even greater significance in their function as expressions of individual will. Equality 7-2521's conversation with International 4-8818 in Chapter I demonstrates Equality 7-2521's willingness to break the law in pursuit of truth. His conversation with the Golden One here builds upon his growing desire for freedom from the society that constrains him. His calling her "dearest one," which evidences his increasing attraction to her, demonstrates his willingness to break the law in the pursuit of love. The conversation between the Golden One and Equality 7-2521 is rife with biblical imagery, both in their naming of each other and her giving him water to cool him. Naming, the original power of man in Genesis, makes the Golden One and Equality 7-2521 more intimate with each other and establishes their possession of each other. Interestingly, though Liberty 5-3000 is referred to throughout Anthem as "the Golden One," the name Equality 7-2521 assigns to her, her name for him does not appear again in the text. Feminists argue that this disparity marks the fundamental inequality in Rand's view of men and women, though Rand might say that the issue is entirely stylistic: after all, Equality 7-2521 is writing the text, and it would be hard to incorporate the Golden One's name for him into the text in a meaningful way.  The offering of water is important both because it represents the Golden One's assumption of the role of caretaker and also because it is laden with biblical imagery. In offering water to Equality 7-2521, the Golden One adopts a role as caretaker and comfort-giver--a role feminists might argue Rand prescribes for her out of a heightened sense of the traditional roles of women. The offering of water is significant also, however, because it is an image very common in the Judeo-Christian Bible. According to the New Testament, Jesus Christ often asked and received water from townspeople he met in his travels, and the sharing of water is considered to be a virtue, as it represents the giving of life-sustaining respite from the heat and weariness of travel. Notably, Christ usually made followers of those who gave him water to drink. In this case, the Golden One's giving water to Equality 7-2521 accompanies her conversion into obedience of him, represents her comforting of him, and is also shot through with sexual overtones. As she nurtures Equality 7-2521, he desires her and she desires him shamelessly for the first time in the novella. Rand seems to be conjoining the conversion experience and the sexual experience into one baffling moment of ecstasy.


Many days passed before we could speak to the Golden One again.
But then came the day when the sky turned white, as if the sun
had burst and spread its flame in the air, and the fields lay
still without breath, and the dust of the road [-was-] {+what+} white in the
glow. So the women of the field were weary, and they tarried over
their work, and they were far from the road when we came. But the
Golden [-One-] {+one+} stood alone at the hedge, waiting. We stopped and we
saw that their eyes, so hard and scornful to the world, were
looking at us [-at-] {+as+} if they would obey any word we might speak.

And we said:

"We have [-give-] {+given+} you a name in our thoughts, Liberty 5-3000."

"What is our name?" they asked.

"The Golden One."

"Nor do we call you Equality 7-2521 when we think of you."

"What name have you given us?"

They looked straight into our eyes and they held their head high
and they answered:

"The Unconquered."

For a long time we could not speak. Then we said:

"Such thoughts [-as these-] are forbidden, Golden One."

"But you think such thoughts as these and you wish us to think
them."

We [-look-] {+looked+} into their {+eyes+} and we could not lie.

"Yes," we whispered, and they smiled, and then we said: "Our
dearest one, do not obey us."

They stepped back, and their eyes were wide and still.

"Speak [-these-] {+those+} words again," they whispered.

"Which words?" we asked. But they did not answer, and we knew it.

"Our dearest one," we whispered.

Never have men said this to women.

The head of the Golden One bowed slowly, and they stood still
before us, their arms at their sides, the palms of their hands
turned to us, as if their body were delivered in submission to
our eyes. And we could not speak.

Then they raised their head, and they spoke simply and gently, as
if they wished us to forget some anxiety of their own.

"The day is hot," they said, "and you have worked for many hours
and you must be weary."

"No," we answered.

"It is cooler in the fields," they said, "and there is water to
drink. Are you thirsty?"

[-"Yes,"-]

{+"Yes,+} we answered, "but we cannot cross the hedge."

"We shall bring the water to you," they said.

Then they knelt by the moat, they gathered water in their two
hands, they rose and they held the water out to our lips.

We do not know if we drank that water. We only knew suddenly that
their hands were empty, but we were still holding our lips to
their hands, and that they knew [-it,-] {+it+} but did not move.

We raised our head and stepped back. For we did not understand
what had made us do this, and we were afraid to understand it.

And the Golden One stepped back, and stood looking upon their
hands in wonder. Then the Golden One moved away, even though no
others were coming, and they
[-moved,-] {+moved+} stepping back, as if they
could not turn from us, their arms bent before them, as if they
could not lower their hands.

Many days after his first conversation with the Golden One, Equality 7-2521 speaks to her again by the hedges along the road he sweeps. She is waiting for him there when he arrives one afternoon, and he sees that she will obey him, despite her scorn for the rest of the world. He tells her that he has renamed her "the Golden One," and she tells him that she has renamed him "the Unconquered. He warns her that such thoughts are not permitted, and she responds that he thinks them anyway and wants her to think them. He agrees, but, calling her "dearest one," warns her not to obey him. He believes he is the first man ever to call a woman "dearest one. She offers her body to him in submission by gesturing that she belongs to him. The Golden One urges Equality 7-2521 to come into the field where it is cooler, but he refuses to cross the hedge, so she brings him water to drink. She holds the water in her hands and holds her hands to his lips, and they stand that way for several moments after he has finished drinking. Even though their conversation remains undiscovered by the others in the field, they each back away, confused by their intimate gesture


It is dark here in the forest. The leaves rustle over our head,
black against the last gold of the sky. The moss is soft and
warm. We shall sleep on this moss for many nights, till the
beasts of the forest come to tear our body. We have no bed now,
save the moss, and no future, save the beasts.

We are old now, yet we were young this morning, when we carried
our glass box through the streets of the City to the Home of the
Scholars. No men stopped us, for there were none about [-from-] the Palace
of Corrective Detention, and the others knew nothing. No men
stopped us at the gate. We walked through {+the+} empty passages and
into the great hall where the World Council of Scholars sat in
solemn meeting.

We saw nothing as we entered, save the sky in the great windows,
blue and glowing. Then we saw the Scholars who sat around a long table;
they were as shapeless clouds huddled at the rise of [-the-] {+a+} great sky.
There were {+the+} men whose famous names we knew, and others
from distant lands whose names we had not heard. We saw a
great painting on the wall over their heads, of the twenty
illustrious men who had invented the candle.

All the heads of the Council turned to us as we entered. These
great and wise of the earth did not know what to think of us, and
they looked upon us with wonder and curiosity, as if we were a
miracle. It is true that our tunic was torn and stained with
brown stains which had been blood. We raised our right arm and we
said:

"Our greeting to you, our honored brothers of the World Council
of Scholars!"

Then Collective 0-0009, the oldest and wisest of the Council,
spoke and asked:

"Who are you, our brother? For you do not look like a Scholar."

"Our name is [-Equality-] {+Equity+} 7-2521," we answered, "and we are a Street
Sweeper of this City."

Then [-is-] {+it+} was [-as-] if a great wind had stricken the hall, for all the
Scholars spoke at once, and they were angry and frightened.

"A Street Sweeper! A Street Sweeper walking in upon the World
Council of Scholars! It is not to be believed! It is against all
the rules and all the laws!"

But we knew how to stop them.

"Our brothers!" we said. "We matter not, nor our transgression.
It is only our brother men who matter. Give no thought to us, for
we are nothing, but listen to our words, for we bring you a gift
such as [-had-] {+has+} never been brought to men. Listen to us, for we hold
the future of mankind in our hands."

Then they listened.

We placed our glass box [-upon-] {+on+} the table before them. We spoke of it,
and of our long quest, and of our tunnel, and of our escape from
the Palace of Corrective Detention. Not a hand moved in that
hall, as we spoke, nor an eye. Then we put the wires to the box,
and they all bent forward and sat still, watching. And we stood
still, our eyes upon the wire. And slowly, slowly as a flush of
blood, a red flame trembled in the wire. Then the wire glowed.

But terror struck the men of the Council. They leapt to their
feet, they ran from the table, and they stood pressed against the
wall, huddled together, seeking the warmth of one another's
bodies to give them courage.

We looked upon them and we laughed and said:

"Fear nothing, our brothers. There is a great power in these
wires, but this power is tamed. It is yours. We give it to you."

Still they would not move.

"We give you the power of the sky!" we cried. "We give you the
key to the earth! Take it, and let us be one of you, the humblest
among you. Let us [-all-] work together, and harness this power, and make
it ease the toil of men. Let us throw away our candles and our
torches. Let us flood our cities with light. Let us bring a new
light to men!"

But they looked upon us, and suddenly we were afraid. For their
eyes were still, and small, and evil.

"Our brothers!" we cried. "Have you nothing to say to us?"

Then Collective 0-0009 moved forward. They moved to the table and
the others followed.

"Yes," spoke Collective 0-0009, "we have much to say to you."

The sound of their [-voices-] {+voice+} brought silence to the hall and to [-be-] {+the+}
beat of our heart.

"Yes," said Collective 0-0009, "we have much to say to a wretch
who have broken all the laws and who boast of their infamy! How
dared you think that your mind held greater wisdom [-that-] {+than+} the minds
of your brothers? And if the [-Councils-] {+Council+} had decreed that you [-should-] be a
Street Sweeper, how dared you think that you could be of greater
use to men than in sweeping the streets?"

"How dared you, gutter cleaner," spoke Fraternity 9-3452, "to
hold yourself as one alone and with the thoughts of [-the-] one and not
of [-the-] many?"

"You shall be burned at the stake," said Democracy 4-6998.

"No, they shall be lashed," said Unanimity 7-3304, "till there is
nothing left under the lashes."

"No," said Collective 0-0009, "we cannot decide upon this, our
brothers. No such crime has ever been committed, and it is not
for us to judge. Nor for any small Council. We shall deliver this
creature to the World Council itself and let their will be done."

We looked upon them and we pleaded:

"Our brothers! You are right. Let the will of the Council be
done upon our body. We do not care. But the light? What will you
do with the light?"

Collective 0-0009 looked upon us, and they smiled.

"So you think [-that-] you have found a new power," said Collective
0-0009. "Do {+you think+} all your brothers think that?"

"No," we answered.

"What is not thought by all men cannot be true," said Collective
0-0009.

"You have worked on this alone?" asked International 1-5537.

[-"Man-]

{+"Yes," we answered.

"What is not done collectively cannot be good," said
International 1-5537.

"Many+} men in the Homes of the Scholars have had strange new
ideas in the past," said Solidarity 8-1164, "but when the
majority of their brother Scholars voted against them, they
abandoned their ideas, as all men must."

"This box is useless," said Alliance [-6-4349.-] {+6-7349.+}

"Should it be what they claim of it," said Harmony 9-2642, "then
it would bring ruin to the Department of Candles. The [-andle-] {+Candle+} is a
great boon to mankind, as approved by all men. Therefore it
cannot be destroyed by the whim of one."

"This would wreck the [-Plans-] {+plans+} of the World Council," said
Unanimity 2-9913, "and without the Plans of the World Council the
sun cannot rise. It took fifty years to secure the approval of
all the Councils for the Candle, and to decide upon the number
needed, and to re-fit {+the+} Plans so as to make candles instead of
torches. This touched upon thousands and thousands of men working
in scores of States. We cannot alter the Plans again [-to-] {+so+} soon."

"And if this should lighten the toil of men," said Similarity
5-0306, "then it is a great evil, for men have no cause to exist
save in toiling for other men."

Then Collective 0-0009 rose and pointed at our box.

"This thing," they said, "must be destroyed."

And all the others cried as one:

"It must be destroyed!"

Then we leapt to the table.

We seized our box, we shoved them aside, and we ran to the
window. We turned and we looked at them for the last time, and a
rage, such as [-it-] is not fit for humans to know, choked our voice in
our throat.

"You [-fools"-] {+fools!"+} we cried. "You fools! You thrice-damned fools!"

We swung our fist through the windowpane, and we leapt out in a
ringing rain of glass.

We fell, but we never let the box fall from our hands. Then we
ran. We ran blindly, and men and houses streaked past us in a
torrent without shape. And the road seemed not to be flat before
us, but as if it were leaping up to meet us, and we waited for
the earth to rise and strike us in the face. But we ran. We knew
not where we were going. We knew only that we must run, run to
the end of the world, to the end of our days.

Then we knew suddenly that we were lying on a soft earth and that
we had stopped. Trees taller than we had ever seen before stood
over us in {+a+} great silence. Then we knew. We were in the
Uncharted Forest. We had not thought of coming here, but our legs
had carried our wisdom, and our legs had brought us to the
Uncharted Forest against our will.

Our glass box lay beside us. We crawled to it, we fell upon it,
our face in our arms, and we lay still.

We lay [-this-] {+thus+} for a long time. Then we rose, we took our [-box and-] {+box, had+}
walked on into the forest.

It mattered not where we went. We knew that men would not follow
us, for they never [-enter-] {+entered+} the Uncharted Forest. We had nothing
to fear from them. The forest disposes of its own victims. This
gave us no fear either. Only we wished to be [-away,-] away from the City
and [-from-] the air that touches upon the air of the City. So we walked
on, our box in our arms, our heart empty.

We are doomed. Whatever days are left to us, we shall spend them
alone. And we have heard of the corruption to be found in
solitude. We have torn ourselves from the truth which is our
brother men, and there is no road back for us, and no redemption.

We know these things, but we do not care. We care for nothing on
earth. We are tired.

Only the glass box in our arms is like a living heart that gives
us strength. We have lied to ourselves. We have not built this
box for the good of our brothers. We built it for its own sake.
It is above all our brothers to us, and its truth above their
truth. Why wonder about this? We {+have not many days to live. We+}
are walking to the fangs awaiting us somewhere among the great,
silent trees. There is not a thing behind us to regret.

Then a blow of pain struck us, our first and our only. We thought
of the Golden One. We thought of the Golden One whom we shall
never see again. Then the pain passed. It is best. We are one of
the Damned. It is best if the Golden [-One-] {+one+} forget our name and the
body which bore that name.

"Many men in the Homes of the Scholars have had strange new ideas in the past . . . but when the majority of their brother Scholars voted against them, they abandoned their ideas, as all men must. "  Summary Equality 7-2521 writes from the forest to which he has fled that he has abandoned hope and believes he will sleep on the grass for a few days until the beasts come to eat his body. He feels that he has aged a lifetime in this day. He recounts the events of the day: he is able to walk right into the meeting of the World Council of Scholars because there are no guards to stop him. The first thing he notices is the sky shining in the windows and a painting on the wall, depicting the twenty men who invented the candle. The shapeless forms of the scholars are huddled around a long table. As he enters, the scholars turn to him, but they do not know what to think. He addresses them in a loud voice and in greeting. Collective 0-0009, the oldest and wisest of the scholars, asks Equality 7-2521 who he is, and Equality 7-2521 gives him his name and tells him he is a street sweeper. The scholars are angry and scared that a street sweeper should have interrupted their meeting. Equality 7-2521 stops their murmurs by telling them he has brought them the greatest gift ever presented to mankind, and they listen to him while he tells them the story of the invention of the lightbulb, the tunnel, and his incarceration in the Palace of Corrective Detention. The scholars hear out his story, but when he lights the lightbulb, they become terrified and huddle against the walls, trembling together. Equality 7-2521 laughs at them and tells them that he has tamed the sky for them and has presented to them the key of the earth. Collective 0-0009 lambasts Equality 7-2521 for breaking all the laws of their society and even boasting of doing so. The other scholars begin slinging insults and threats at Equality 7-2521, telling him they will have him burned at the stake or lashed to death. Equality 7-2521 tells them he does not care what they do with his body but that he wants them only to protect the light. The scholars tell him that what is not achieved collectively cannot be good and what is not thought by all men cannot be true. They tell him that there have often been scholars who thought they had brilliants ideas, but when their brothers voted against them, they abandoned their work. They worry that the light will ruin the Department of Candles, which was only recently established and took great labor to be ratified, and that it will ruin the plans of the World Council, without which not even the sun can rise. One scholar concludes that if the light lightens the toil of men, it is evil because toil is the end for which men exist. The scholars conclude that the light will be destroyed. Equality 7-2521 cannot abide the destruction of the lightbulb, so he grabs his invention and flees the council. He runs blindly until he collapses and discovers he is in the Uncharted Forest, where he supposes he will die alone. He realizes, however, that he had been lying to himself, that he did not create the light for his brothers but rather for its own sake. He does not regret building the light and pursuing his scientific discoveries, though he wishes he could see the Golden One again." f this should lighten the toil of men . . . then it is a great evil, for men have no cause to exist save in toiling for other men. "

In Collective 0-0009, Rand exposes the mastermind behind the demise of the old world. Until we meet Collective 0-0009, we might suppose that the failings of Equality 7-2521's society are grounded in the failings of individuals who do not realize their potential or are stupid, weak, and helpless. Rand's view of the collectivist society, however, holds that it systematically rejects progress and perpetuates hurtful cycles of working for others. Thus the failure of technology stems not from the failure of scientists to develop technologies or the failure of the average citizen to take advantage of those technologies, but rather the failure of the World Council of Scholars to come to a consensus about how to utilize the new technologies. Additionally, the Council is afraid of the lightbulb, even though Equality 7-2521 promises to harness its power for them. Their ingrained fear of new things becomes public policy and makes a system of the repression of progress. This distinction--that society at large rather than certain individuals are holding humankind back--is very important to the political criticism that Anthem makes. Rand is arguing against a position that holds that socialism and collectivism are fundamentally useful and good propositions but were simply executed poorly in Russia. This position holds that Communism in Russia was a failure in large part because of the corruption, vanity, and cruelty of men like Josef Stalin, who lined their own pockets and carried out personal vendettas rather than truly pursue the good of the people. Rand, on the other hand, believes that collectivism is evil and doomed to fail no matter how it is executed, and the individual who fights for his own well-being over that of his brothers is the only effective solution to the problems inherent in collectivism. Equality 7-2521's conflict with the World Council of Scholars forms the central event of Anthem and comes closest to being the climax of the story, because it is the point at which there is no turning back for Equality 7-2521. His smaller transgressions--preferring International 4-8818, falling in love with the Golden One and speaking to her as a lover, seeking the solitude of the tunnel, and creating the lightbulb--could potentially be forgiven and have not cut Equality 7-2521 off irreparably from his society. Once the World Council rejects the lightbulb, however, all hope of reconciliation vanishes, and Equality 7-2521's path clears. Even though Equality 7-2521 himself does not see the path before him, it is inevitable that he break with society and seek his own way in the Uncharted Forest. Rand claims that Anthem does not have traditional structure and that it does not have a meaningful plot. For her, the novella revolves entirely around the internal conflict inside Equality 7-2521's mind. This conflict resolves itself in the final chapters of the novella and provides the jumping-off point for the most philosophical part of the story, the actual anthem of the title. Here, however, despite Rand's claims about the novella's lack of formal structure, it is possible to identify a likely candidate for the climax of the story. The conflict with the World Council becomes inevitable in this chapter, and this conflict, and the resulting exile of Equality 7-2521, helps cause Equality 7-2521's crucial realization that he is an individual and that his individuality is more important than his place in society. Equality 7-2521's realization that he actually created light for his own good and for its own sake conflicts with his earlier belief that he should present the lightbulb for the good of his brothers. Rand wants us to see this changed point of view as a kind of self-actualization. She believes that Equality 7-2521 has been deluding himself about his motivations and that he can realize his true feelings only now that he is free of social constraints and returned to a state of nature. This contention is troublesome, however, for it threatens the infallibility of the individual, whom Rand cherishes so much. Her statement that Equality 7-2521 has always known the truth but has not realized this truth is tantamount to second-guessing him, which is in tension with her belief that what the individual thinks and believes is sacred and should be followed at all costs.


It has been a day of wonder, this, our first day in the forest.

We awoke when a ray of sunlight fell across our face. We wanted
to leap to our feet, as we have had to leap {+to our feet+} every
morning of our life, but we remembered suddenly that no bell had
rung and that there was no bell to ring anywhere. We lay on our
back, we threw our arms out, and we looked up at the sky. The
leaves had edges of silver that trembled and rippled like a river
of green and fire flowing high above us.

We did not wish to move. We thought suddenly that we could lie
thus as long as we wished, and we laughed aloud at the thought.
We could also rise, or run, or leap, or fall down again. We were
thinking that these were [-thoughts-] {+things+} without sense, but before we knew [-it-]
{+it,+} our body had risen in one leap. Our arms stretched out of
their own will, and our body whirled and whirled, till it raised
a wind to rustle through the leaves of the bushes. Then our hands
seized a branch and swung us high into a tree, with no aim save
the wonder of learning the strength of our body. The branch
snapped under us and we fell upon the moss that was soft as a
cushion. Then our body, losing all sense, rolled over and over on
the moss, dry leaves in our tunic, in our hair, in our face. And
we heard suddenly that we were laughing, laughing aloud, laughing
as if there were no power left in us save laughter.

Then we took our glass box, and we went [-on-] into the forest. We went
on, cutting through the branches, and it was as if we were
swimming through a sea of leaves, with the bushes as waves rising
and falling and rising around us, and flinging their green sprays
high to the treetops. The trees parted before us, calling us
forward. The forest seemed to welcome us. We went on, without
thought, without care, with nothing to [-feel-] {+fell+} save the song of our
body.

We stopped when we felt hunger. We saw birds in the tree
branches, and flying from under our footsteps. We picked a stone
and we sent [-is-] {+it+} as an arrow at a bird. It fell before us. We made
a fire, we cooked the bird, and we ate it, and no meal had ever
tasted better to us. And we thought suddenly that there was a
great satisfaction to be found in the food which we need and
obtain by our own hand. And we wished to {+be+} hungry again and
soon, that we might know again this strange new pride in eating.

Then we walked on. And we came to a stream which lay as a streak
of glass among the trees. It lay so still that we saw no water
but only a cut in the earth, in which the trees grew down,
upturned, and the sky [-lay-] at the bottom. We knelt by the stream and
we bent down to drink. And then we stopped. For, upon the blue of
the sky below us, we saw our own face for the first time.

We sat still and we held our breath. For our face and our body
were beautiful. Our face was not like the faces of our brothers,
for we felt [-not-] {+no+} pity when [-looking-] {+we looked+} upon it. Our body was not like
the bodies of our brothers, for our limbs were straight and thin
and hard and strong. And we thought that we could trust this
being who looked upon us from the stream, and that we had nothing
to fear
[-with-] {+from+} this being.

We walked on till the sun had set. When the shadows gathered
among the trees, we stopped in a hollow between the roots, where
we shall sleep tonight. And suddenly, for the first time this
day, we remembered that we are the Damned. We remembered it, and
we laughed.

We are writing this on the paper we had hidden in our tunic
together with the written pages we had brought for the World
Council of Scholars, but never given to them. We have much to
speak of to ourselves, and we hope we shall find the words for it
in the days to come. Now, we cannot speak, for we cannot
understand.

Equality 7-2521 wakes in the forest and realizes that for the first time in his life, he is waking because he is rested and not because someone is ringing a bell to wake him. He observes the forest in some detail, and it seems magnificent to him. He stretches his body out on the moss, and he laughs and laughs for no reason except that he is free. He realizes that he can stay asleep and lie on the moss as long as he wants. His body, of its own volition, jumps up and whirls around in a circle. Equality 7-2521 takes his lightbulb and heads into the forest. The forest is dense, and as he works through the leaves, he compares the forest to the sea, thinking of the bushes as waves below him, spraying up into the treetops. When he is hungry, Equality 7-2521 stops and uses a single stone as an arrow to kill a bird. He cooks the bird and eats it. He finds great satisfaction in killing the bird and is surprised to find that he takes pride in eating. Equality 7-2521 then comes to a stream, where he stops to drink. He sees his reflection for the first time, and it takes his breath away. He is frozen in front of the stream staring at his own image. He discovers he does not look like his brothers, because they are shapeless, formless, and downtrodden while he is thin, strong, and lithe. He is hard and strong and concludes that he can trust himself and has nothing to fear of his own company. Equality 7-2521 has walked through the forest all day when he suddenly remembers that he is exiled from society, or, in his words, "Damned." He laughs because he does not care that he is damned. It is the only time he thinks of what he has left behind. Equality 7-2521 tells us that he is writing on the same paper he used in the tunnel. He intends to write a great deal because he concludes he has a great deal to say to himself. At the moment, however, there is too much he does not understand to continue writing.

Equality 7-2521's return to nature to escape the evils of man reflects Rand's belief that only other men can limit the freedom of a man and that in the state of nature man is completely free. This theme is common in philosophy, especially in the work of eighteenth-century Swiss philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau who, in his Confessions, suggests that man was a superior being before society and its constructs weakened his constitution. In Anthem, in the forest, where he has been forbidden by society to go, Equality 7-2521 experiences the joy of his body for the first time when he is not oppressed by work assigned to him by others and the yoke of collectivism. His legs return him to the state of nature instinctively because, for Rand, individualism constitutes a near-instinct, a feeling so ingrained in human make-up that it cannot be completely abolished and will be rediscovered, as Equality 7-2521 has rediscovered it, under even the most dire circumstances. For Rand, physical beauty and athletic prowess accompany intellectual and moral perfection naturally, and the two combine in Equality 7-2521 to create what she considers an ideal man. Vanity and pride are both positive attributes in Rand's thinking, which is why she relates the story of Equality 7-2521's discovery of his own reflection with no irony. The incident closely resembles the story of Narcissus, the Greek mythological character who became so obsessed with his own reflection that he sat at the edge of a pool staring at it until he became a flower. Nevertheless, in Anthem, Equality 7-2521's self-admiration is a form of self-discovery and liberation from social convention. Additionally, the episode of Equality 7-2521 feeding himself is a manifestation of his perfection. Though as a street sweeper Equality 7-2521 has never been hunting for birds before and has probably never cooked a bird before, he fells a bird with a single throw of a sharp rock, cooks the bird over a fire, and very much enjoys his meal because he is a perfect man, capable of succeeding in everything he tries, even when it is completely new to him. Rand often referred to herself as a Romantic, by which she meant that she was concerned chiefly with the ideal. Omitting details such as Equality 7-2521's probable first ten tries to kill the bird is an example of her disregard for realistic detail in favor of imbuing her heroes with perfection befitting her ideal. Equality 7-2521's return to nature also signals Rand's presentation of Equality 7-2521 as the new Adam, the creator of the true human race. Here, he is at one with nature and at peace with his body, and he has returned to Eden. In the biblical story of Genesis, Adam and Eve live in harmony in the Garden of Eden until a serpent tempts Eve with fruit from the tree of knowledge. When they eat the fruit, Adam and Eve become aware of their own bodies and selves. When God, who has forbidden them to eat of the tree of knowledge, discovers their sin, he throws them out of the garden and into the world, where they spawn a flawed race of men. The parallel is turned on its head here, however, by Equality 7-2521's realization that he is, in fact, an outcast. For Rand, Eden is a place that can be re-entered by using knowledge itself. Ironically, it takes becoming an outcast for Equality 7-2521 to realize where he will be able to find happiness and self-awareness. For Rand, self-awareness is saving, not damning. Technology and nature, often in tension in literature, are means to the same end in Anthem. Nature provides man a chance to prove himself, a way to make it on his own. It belongs to him because he is a man, and the natural order is such that the forest welcomes him into its keep. Technology, likewise, belongs to man because he has created it. He creates it because it is progress and it exalts him. Interestingly, the emphasis on nature in Anthem is not present in Rand's other works, where the emphasis is chiefly on the city and man's achievements. In Anthem, however, Rand emphasizes that man is the master of all creation, and that he can use his mind to master even those elements, such as lightning and electricity, that seem to master him. Indeed, Rand often suggests that the world is meaningless without man's mind in it to give it meaning, and in this way, technology is the complement of nature because technology is essentially a natural force with the direction of man's will behind it.