We

by Yevgeny Zamyatin

There’s the bell. We stood and sang the Hymn of the One State, and on the stage, the phonolector sparkled with its golden loudspeaker and keen wit: “Esteemed ciphers! Not long ago, archaeologists uncovered a book from the twentieth century. In it, an ironical author tells the story of a barbarian and a barometer. The barbarian noticed: every time the barometer pointed to ‘rain,’ it actually rained. And then, one day, when the barbarian wanted it to rain, he tapped out just enough mercury so that the level would indicate ‘rain’ ” (on the screen, a barbarian in feathers, tapping out the mercury; the sound of laughter). “You laugh: but does it not seem to you more appropriate to laugh at the Europeans of that epoch? Like the barbarian, the European wanted ‘rain’—rain with a capital R, algebraic rain. But he stood before the barometer like a big wet chicken. At least the barbarian had more gumption and verve and—though barbarous—logic: he was able to establish that there is a connection between effect and cause. Having tapped out the mercury, he achieved that first step along the great path, toward . . .”