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"
Go
on
.
"
"
We
voted
for
that
plan
at
a
big
meeting
,
with
all
of
us
present
,
six
thousand
of
us
,
everybody
that
worked
in
the
factory
.
The
Starnes
heirs
made
long
speeches
about
it
,
and
it
wasn
’
t
too
clear
,
but
nobody
asked
any
questions
.
None
of
us
knew
just
how
the
plan
would
work
,
but
every
one
of
us
thought
that
the
next
fellow
knew
it
.
And
if
anybody
had
doubts
,
he
felt
guilty
and
kept
his
mouth
shut
—
because
they
made
it
sound
like
anyone
who
’
d
oppose
the
plan
was
a
child
killer
at
heart
and
less
than
a
human
being
.
They
told
us
that
this
plan
would
achieve
a
noble
ideal
.
Well
,
how
were
we
to
know
otherwise
?
Hadn
’
t
we
heard
it
all
our
lives
—
from
our
parents
and
our
schoolteachers
and
our
ministers
,
and
in
every
newspaper
we
ever
read
and
every
movie
and
every
public
speech
?
Hadn
’
t
we
always
been
told
that
this
was
righteous
and
just
?
Well
,
maybe
there
’
s
some
excuse
for
what
we
did
at
that
meeting
.
Still
,
we
voted
for
the
plan
—
and
what
we
got
,
we
had
it
coming
to
us
.
You
know
,
ma
’
am
,
we
are
marked
men
,
in
a
way
,
those
of
us
who
lived
through
the
four
years
of
that
plan
in
the
Twentieth
Century
factory
.
What
is
it
that
hell
is
supposed
to
be
?
Evil
—
plain
,
naked
,
smirking
evil
,
isn
’
t
it
?
Well
,
that
’
s
what
we
saw
and
helped
to
make
—
and
I
think
we
’
re
damned
,
every
one
of
us
,
and
maybe
we
’
ll
never
be
forgiven
.
.
.
"
Do
you
know
how
it
worked
,
that
plan
,
and
what
it
did
to
people
?
Try
pouring
water
into
a
tank
where
there
’
s
a
pipe
at
the
bottom
draining
it
out
faster
than
you
pour
it
,
and
each
bucket
you
bring
breaks
that
pipe
an
inch
wider
,
and
the
harder
you
work
the
more
is
demanded
of
you
,
and
you
stand
slinging
buckets
forty
hours
a
week
,
then
forty
-
eight
,
then
fifty
-
six
—
for
your
neighbor
’
s
supper
—
for
his
wife
’
s
operation
—
for
his
child
’
s
measles
—
for
his
mother
’
s
wheel
chair
—
for
his
uncle
’
s
shirt
—
for
his
nephew
’
s
schooling
—
for
the
baby
next
door
—
for
the
baby
to
be
born
—
for
anyone
anywhere
around
you
—
it
’
s
theirs
to
receive
,
from
diapers
to
dentures
—
and
yours
to
work
,
from
sunup
to
sundown
,
month
after
month
,
year
after
year
,
with
nothing
to
show
for
it
but
your
sweat
,
with
nothing
in
sight
for
you
but
their
pleasure
,
for
the
whole
of
your
life
,
without
rest
,
without
hope
,
without
end
.
.
.
From
each
according
to
his
ability
,
to
each
according
to
his
need
.
.
.
"
We
’
re
all
one
big
family
,
they
told
us
,
we
’
re
all
in
this
together
.
But
you
don
’
t
all
stand
working
an
acetylene
torch
ten
hours
a
day
—
together
,
and
you
don
’
t
all
get
a
bellyache
—
together
.
What
’
s
whose
ability
and
which
of
whose
needs
comes
first
?
When
it
’
s
all
one
pot
,
you
can
’
t
let
any
man
decide
what
his
own
needs
are
,
can
you
?
If
you
did
,
he
might
claim
that
he
needs
a
yacht
—
and
if
his
feelings
is
all
you
have
to
go
by
,
he
might
prove
it
,
too
.
Why
not
?
If
it
’
s
not
right
for
me
to
own
a
car
until
I
’
ve
worked
myself
into
a
hospital
ward
,
earning
a
car
for
every
loafer
and
every
naked
savage
on
earth
—
why
can
’
t
he
demand
a
yacht
from
me
,
too
,
if
I
still
have
the
ability
not
to
have
collapsed
?
No
?
He
can
’
t
?
Then
why
can
he
demand
that
I
go
without
cream
for
my
coffee
until
he
’
s
replastered
his
living
room
?
.
.
.
Oh
well
.
.
.
Well
,
anyway
,
it
was
decided
that
nobody
had
the
right
to
judge
his
own
need
or
ability
.
We
voted
on
it
.
Yes
,
ma
’
am
,
we
voted
on
it
in
a
public
meeting
twice
a
year
.
How
else
could
it
be
done
?
Do
you
care
to
think
what
would
happen
at
such
a
meeting
?
It
took
us
just
one
meeting
to
discover
that
we
had
become
beggars
—
rotten
,
whining
,
sniveling
beggars
,
all
of
us
,
because
no
man
could
claim
his
pay
as
his
rightful
earning
,
he
had
no
rights
and
no
earnings
,
his
work
didn
’
t
belong
to
him
,
it
belonged
to
‘
the
family
,
’
and
they
owed
him
nothing
in
return
,
and
the
only
claim
he
had
on
them
was
his
‘
need
’
—
so
he
had
to
beg
in
public
for
relief
from
his
needs
,
like
any
lousy
moocher
,
listing
all
his
troubles
and
miseries
,
down
to
his
patched
drawers
and
his
wife
’
s
head
colds
,
hoping
that
‘
the
family
’
would
throw
him
the
alms
.
He
had
to
claim
miseries
,
because
it
’
s
miseries
,
not
work
,
that
had
become
the
coin
of
the
realm
—
so
it
turned
into
a
contest
among
six
thousand
panhandlers
,
each
claiming
that
his
need
was
worse
than
his
brother
’
s
.
How
else
could
it
be
done
?
Do
you
care
to
guess
what
happened
,
what
sort
of
men
kept
quiet
,
feeling
shame
,
and
what
sort
got
away
with
the
jackpot
?
"
But
that
wasn
’
t
all
.
There
was
something
else
that
we
discovered
at
the
same
meeting
.
The
factory
’
s
production
had
fallen
by
forty
per
cent
,
in
that
first
half
-
year
,
so
it
was
decided
that
somebody
hadn
’
t
delivered
‘
according
to
his
ability
’
.
Who
?
How
would
you
tell
it
?
‘
The
family
’
voted
on
that
,
too
.
They
voted
which
men
were
the
best
,
and
these
men
were
sentenced
to
work
overtime
each
night
for
the
next
six
months
.
