Anthem | Page 6

to speak to each of the Students. They called
the Students' names, and when the 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 and they do not study any further. But if the
Council has said "Leader," then those 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 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 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. 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