【预订】Walt Whitman 9780791092521 阿里云 kindle 下载 pdf chm 百度云 azw3 umd

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He remembered when hiss family received lily, the day she was named, the day that she had become a one.

A committee was studying the idea. When something went to a committee for study, the people always joked about it. Rules were very hard to change. Sometimes, if it was a very important rule, it would have to go, eventually, to The Receiver for a decision. The Receiver was the most important Elder.

"I think newchildren are so cute," Lily sighed. "I hope I get assigned to be a Birthmother."

"Lily!" Mother spoke very sharply. "Don't say that. There's very little honor in that Assignment."

"Three years," Mother told her firmly. "Three births, and that's all. After that they are Laborers for the rest of their adult lives, until the day that they enter the House of the Old."

There was never any confortable ay to mention or discuss one's success without breaking the rule against bragging, even if one didn't mean to. It was a minor rule, rather like rudeness, punishable only by gentle chastisement.

It was the sort of thing one didn't ask a friend about because it might have fallen into that uncomfortable category of "being different." Asher took a pill each morning; Jonas did not. Always better, less rude, to talk about things that were the same.

The entire community had performed the Ceremony of Loss together, murmuring the neme Caleb throughout and entire day, less and less frequently, fofter in volume, as the long and somber day went on, so that the little Four seemed to fade away gradually from everyone's consciousness.

Now, at this special Naming, the community performed the brief Murmur-of-Replacement Ceremony, repeating the name for the first time since the loss: softly and slowly at first, then faster and with greater volume, as the couple stood on the stage with the newchild sleeping in the mother's arms. It was as f the first Caleb were returning.

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