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