一无所有-第62部分

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hevek　steadily　all　the　time　they　talked；　now；　as　if　the　examination　was　done；　he　looked　away；　leaning　back　in　his　chair。　〃This　city's　about　ready　for　anything。　A　strike　is　what　we　need；　a　general　strike；　and　massive　demonstrations。　Like　the　Ninth　Month　Strike　that　Odo　led；〃　he　added　with　a　dry；　strained　smile。　〃We　could　use　an　Odo　now。　But　they've　got　no　Moon　to　buy　us　off　with　this　time。　We　make　justice　here；　or　nowhere。〃　He　looked　back　at　Shevek；　and　presently　said　in　a　softer　voice；　〃Do　you　know　what　your　society　has　meant；　here；　to　us；　these　last　hundred　and　fifty　years？　Do　you　know　that　when　people　here　want　to　wish　each　other　luck　they　say；　'May　you　get　reborn　on　Anarres！'　To　know　that　it　exists；　to　know　that　there　is　a　society　without　government；　without　police；　without　economic　exploitation；　that　they　can　never　say　again　that　it's　just　a　mirage；　an　idealist's　dream！　I　wonder　if　you　fully　understand　why　they've　kept　you　so　well　hidden　out　there　at　leu　Eun；　Dr。　Shevek。　Why　you　never　were　allowed　to　appear　at　any　meeting　open　to　the　public。　Why　they'll　be　after　you　like　dogs　after　a　rabbit　the　moment　they　find　you're　gone。　It's　not　just　because　they　want　this　idea　of　yours。　But　because　you　are　an　idea。　A　dangerous　one。　The　idea　of　anarchism；　made　flesh。　Walking　amongst　us。〃

〃Then　you've　got　your　Odo；〃　the　girl　said　in　her　quiet；　urgent　voice。　She　had　reentered　as　Maedda　was　speaking。　〃After　all；　Odo　was　only　an　idea。　Dr。　Shevek　is　the　proof。〃

Maedda　was　silent　for　a　minute。　〃An　undemonstrable　proof；〃　he　said。

〃Why？〃

〃If　people　know　he's　here；　the　police　will　know　it　too。〃　

〃Let　them　e　and　try　to　take　him；〃　the　girl　said；　and　smiled。

〃The　demonstration　is　going　to　be　absolutely　nonviolent；〃　Maedda　said　with　sudden　violence。　〃Even　the　SWU　have　accepted　that！〃

〃I　haven't　accepted　it；　Tuio。　I'm　not　going　to　let　my　face　get　knocked　in　or　my　brains　blown　out　by　the　blackcoats。　If　they　hurt　me；　I'll　hurt　back。〃

〃Join　them；　if　you　like　their　methods。　Justice　is　not　achieved　by　force！〃

〃And　power　isn't　achieved　by　passivity。〃

〃We　are　not　seeking　power。　We　are　seeking　the　end　of　power！　What　do　you　say？〃　Maedda　appealed　to　Shevek。　〃The　means　are　the　end。　Odo　said　it　all　her　life。　Only　peace　brings　peace；　only　just　acts　bring　justice！　We　cannot　be　divided　on　that　on　the　eve　of　action！〃

Shevek　looked　at　him；　at　the　girl；　and　at　the　pawnbroker　who　stood　listening　tensely　near　the　door。　He　said　in　a　tired；　quiet　voice；　〃If　I　would　be　of　use；　use　me。　Maybe　I　could　publish　a　statement　on　this　in　one　of　your　papers。　I　did　not　e　to　Urras　to　hide。　If　all　the　people　know　I　am　here；　maybe　the　government　would　be　afraid　to　arrest　me　in　public？　I　don't　know。〃

〃That's　it；〃　Maedda　said。　〃Of　course。〃　His　dark　eyes　blazed　with　excitement。　〃Where　the　devil　is　Remeivi？　Go　call　his　sister；　Siro；　tell　her　to　hunt　him　out　and　get　him　over　here。　—　Write　why　you　came　here；　write　about　Anarres；　write　why　you　won't　sell　yourself　to　the　government；　write　what　you　like　—　we'll　get　it　printed。　Siro！　Call　Meisthe　too。　—　We'll　hide　you；　but　by　God　we'll　let　ever　man　in　AIo　know　you're　here；　you're　with　us！〃　The　words　poured　out　of　him；　his　hands　jerked　as　he　spoke；　and　he　walked　quickly　back　and　forth　across　the　room。　〃And　then；　after　the　demonstration；　after　the　strike；　we'll　see。　Maybe　things　will　be　different　then！　Maybe　you　won't　have　to　hide！〃

〃Maybe　all　the　prison　doors　will　fly　open；〃　Shevek　said。　〃Well；　give　me　some　paper；　I'll　write。〃

The　girl　Siro　came　up　to　him。　Smiling；　she　stooped　as　if　bowing　to　him；　a　little　timorously；　with　decorum；　and　kissed　him　on　the　cheek；　then　she　went　out。　The　touch　of　her　lips　was　cool；　and　he　felt　it　on　his　cheek　for　a　long　time。

He　spent　one　day　in　the　attic　of　a　tenement　in　Joking　Lane；　and　two　nights　and　a　day　in　a　basement　under　a　usedfurniture　store；　a　strange　dim　place　full　of　empty　mirror　frames　and　broken　bedsteads。　He　wrote。　They　brought　him　what　he　had　written；　printed；　within　a　few　hours：　at　first　in　the　newspaper　Modem　Age；　and　later；　after　the　Modem　Age　presses　had　been　closed　down　and　the　editors　arrested；　as　handbills　run　on　a　clandestine　press；　along　with　plans　and　incitations　for　the　demonstration　and　general　strike。　He　did　not　read　over　what　he　had　written。　He　did　not　listen　closely　to　Maedda　and　the　others；　who　described　the　enthusiasm　with　which　the　papers　were　read；　the　spreading　acceptance　of　the　plan　for　the　strike；　the　effect　his　presence　at　the　demonstration　would　make　in　the　eyes　of　the　world。　When　they　left　him　alone；　sometimes　he　took　a　small　notebook　from　his　shirt　pocket　and　looked　at　the　coded　notes　and　equations　of　the　General　Temporal　Theory。　He　looked　at　them　and　could　not　read　them。　He　did　not　understand　them。　He　put　the　notebook　away　again　and　sat　with　his　head　between　his　hands。



Anarres　had　no　flag　to　wave；　but　among　the　placards　proclaiming　the　general　strike；　and　the　blue　and　white　banners　of　the　Syndicalists　and　the　Socialist　Workers；　there　were　many　homemade　signs　showing　the　green　Circle　of　life；　the　old　symbol　of　the　Odoman　Movement　of　two　hundred　years　before。　All　the　flags　and　signs　shone　bravely　in　the　sunlight。

It　was　good　to　be　outside；　after　the　rooms　with　locked　doors；　the　hiding　places。　It　was　good　to　be　walking；　swinging　his　aims；　breathing　the　clear　air　of　a　spring　morning。　To　be　among　so　many　people；　so　immense　a　crowd；　thousands　marching　together；　filling　all　the　side　streets　as　well　as　the　broad　thoroughfare　down　which　they　marched；　was　frightening；　but　it　was　exhilarating　too。　When　they　sang；　both　the　exhilaration　and　the　fear　became　a　blind　exaltation；　he　eyes　filled　with　tears。　It　was　deep；　in　the　deep　streets；　softened　by　open　air　and　by　distances；　indistinct；　overwhelming；　that　lifting　up　of　thousands　of　voices　in　one　song。　The　singing　of　the　front　of　the　march；　far　away　up　the　street；　and　of　the　endless　crowds　ing　on　behind；　was　put　out　of　phase　by　the　distance　the　sound　must　travel；　so　that　the　melody　seemed　always　to　be　lagging　and　catching　up　with　itself；　like　a　canon；　and　all　the　parts　of　the　song　were　being　sung　at　one　time；　in　the　same　moment；　though　each　singer　sang　the　tune　as　a　line　from　beginning　to　end。

He　did　not　know　their　songs；　and　only　listened　and　was　borne　along　on　the　music；　until　from　up　front　there　came　sweeping　back　wave　by　wave　down　the　great　slowmoving　river　of　people　a　tune　he　knew。　He　lifted　his　head　and　sang　it　with　them；　in　his　own　language　as　he　had　learned　it：　the　Hymn　of　the　Insurrection。　It　had　been　sung　in　these　streets；　in　this　same　street；　two　hundred　years　ago；　by　these　people；　his　people。

O　eastern　light；　awaken
Those　who　have　slept！
The　darkness　will　be　broken；
The　promise　kept。

They　fell　silent　in　the　ranks　around　Shevek　to　hear　him；　and　he　sang　aloud；　smiling；　walking　forward　with　them。

There　might　have　been　a　hundred　thousand　human　beings　in　Capitol　Square；　or　twice　that　many。　The　individuals；　like　the　particles　of　atomic　physics；　could　not　be　counted；　nor　their　positions　ascertained；　nor　their　behavior　predicted。　And　yet；　as　a　mass；　that　enormous　mass　did　what　it　had　been　expected　to　do　by　the　anizers　of　the　strike：　it　gathered；　marched　in　order；　sang；　filled　Capitol　Square　and　all　the　streets　around；　stood　in　its　numberlessness　restless　yet　patient　in　the　bright　noon　listening　to　the　speakers；　whose　single　voices；　erratically　amplified；　clapped　and　echoed　off　the　sunlit　facades　of　the　Senate　and　the　Directorate；　rattled　and　hissed　over　the　continuous；　soft；　vast　murmur　of　the　crowd　itself。

There　were　more　people　standing　here　in　the　Square　than　lived　in　all　Abbenay；　Shevek　thought；　but　the　thought　was　meaningless；　an　attempt　to　quantify　direct　experience。　He　stood　with　Maedda　and　the　others　on　the　steps　of　the　Directorate；　in　front　of　the　columns　and　the　tall　bronze　doors；　and　looked　out　over　the　tremulous；　somber　field　of　faces；　and　listened　as　they　listened　to　the　speakers：　not　hearing　and　understanding　in　the　sense　in　which　the　individual　rational　mind　perceives　and　understands；　but　rather　as　one　looks　at；　listens　to　one's　own　thoughts；　or　as　a　thought　perceives　and　understands　the　self。　When　he　spoke；　speaking　was　little　different　from　listening。　N