Foreman had talked about integrity almost every day. "You're either a guest on the planet or a host.

"Guests expect to be taken care of. Guests make messes without wondering who's going to clean them up. Guests don't pay their own way. We invite guests into our homes because we enjoy their company, not because we enjoy cleaning up after them. If the cost of cleaning up after a guest becomes prohibitive, the guest becomes an enemy. Remember that.

"Hosts are the people who take care of other people. Hosts are owners. Hosts clean up messes wherever they find them. Hosts keep their homes clean so that guests will feel welcome and taken care of.

"The question is," Foreman had said, over and over, "Are you a guest or a host on the planet Earth? Are you leaving a trail of trash in your wake? Dropped cigarettes, candy wrappings, crumpled paper, orange peels, soft-drink containers, and all the other garbage of your life? Do your relationships look like Dachau? Are you leaving a trail of dead bodies behind you? It's all the same.

"You're expecting someone else to clean it up. Or maybe you don't care if it ever gets cleaned up.

"A host cleans up trash wherever he finds it-it doesn't matter who left it there. He's a host, it's his responsibility. He enters a room and cleans it up because he can't stand seeing the dirt on the floor. He takes care of his relationships because he can't stand seeing people damaged, incomplete, and in pain. A host cares about the place he lives in.

"I live on Earth. Where do you live?" Right.

Foreman wasn't subtle. But then he'd never promised to be. He'd only promised results. I was laughing as I went to the closet where the chairs were stored.

As I expected, there were brooms and dustpans stashed in a corner.

I didn't ask-there wasn't anyone to ask anyway-I just took the broom and began sweeping the floor.

Several people turned to stare at me; a couple applauded; but after a moment, there were four of us sweeping the floor.

"Why are you doing that?" someone asked.

I just looked at him. How could he not understand? And kept on sweeping.

"That's not your job," the man insisted. He was a big, burly looking fellow.

"Yes it is," I said. "I'm not a guest any more. I'm the host."

"Oh?" he asked. "You're taking over the training? Foreman died and appointed you God?"

The right answer was yes, but he wouldn't have understood it. "I'm taking responsibility for my part of the training," I said. "Would you move please? I want to sweep where you're standing."

He moved. He frowned; he was unhappy-he knew there was something he wasn't understanding-but he moved.

I wasn't worried. He'd get it. He'd figure it out soon enough. We all would.

Somebody else came up to me then. A woman with a worried expression. "You know what's going on, don't you?"

"Actually, I don't."

"But, you're sweeping."

"That's right. I'm sweeping."

"Because it has to be done," I said.

She made a face. She shook her head and walked away. I suppose she thought I was being rude for not explaining, but if she had to have it explained to her, then she wouldn't understand it. After a while, people left me alone.

It took a while to sweep the whole room, even with four of us doing it. We became an unspoken partnership. We understood without discussing it, what we were doing.

While I swept, while I had something to do, I didn't have to think. I could be the job. I could concentrate on having this floor be the cleanest floor possible.

I really didn't know what was going on, but I did know that this dirty floor was in the way. I had to clean the floor first before I could know what the next part was. That much I was sure of. It seemed to me though . . .

. . . I didn't quite have the words yet. I had the feeling, but I couldn't explain it. If I tried to put the experience into words, I would probably diminish it. So, for the moment, I let myself just feel it and I would worry about communicating it later. Foreman said that worrying about the communication becomes rehearsal for a performance, and communication isn't about performance, it's about transmission of information and experience.

But the one thing I was sure of was that this was part of the Training.

We hadn't been abandoned.

Every day the room had been set up differently, and there was a purpose for that. Foreman didn't do anything without there being a purpose behind it. Therefore, the room had been set up differently every day for us to become accustomed to a daily alteration in the environment. We had been learning/experiencing a paradigm about the room.

The fact that today the room was not set up at all was not a sign that the Training had broken down-no, it was the next part of the Training.

This was another way to set up the room for the trainees: having it not set up at all!

Why?

I felt like I was almost there. We were almost through with the sweeping.

So we could set it up ourselves.

I emptied the last bit of dirt and dust into the trash and stashed the broom and dustpan back in the closet where I found them. I looked up at the others. There were seven of us here.

We were all grinning. We all knew.

We started pulling chairs out of the closet--

"Wait a minute." That was the short wiry fellow with black curly hair. He looked Pakistani. "How are we going to set them up?"

Good question. We stopped to consider.

"We're inventing this ourselves," I said. "We should invent something that represents our taking responsibility for our own training."

"Good," said the blond woman. "That makes sense."

"There shouldn't be a front and a back. Everyone should have a good view."

"Right," said the guy from Hawaii; his name was Rand. "Everybody should be equal. At least, all the chairs should be equal."

"A circle," said the woman. "A big circle."

"That sounds good," said Parent. "What do you think?" They all turned expectantly to me.

"Uh . . ." I realized something. "Why are you asking me?"

"You started the sweeping-that makes you the leader."

"Uh-uh," I said. "We're all in this together. I don't think we should have a leader. Having a leader is one of the ways we give up individual responsibility. No, this is something that has to represent all of us."

"That's why you're such a good leader," said the blond woman. I started to snap at her-then I saw her grin and realized she was joking. We laughed together.

"Okay," I said. "I like a circle. What does everyone else want?"

We all agreed. A circle. It felt right.

It didn't take that long to set up the chairs. Not with twenty of us working. And as we worked, others began to join us.

I hadn't realized how big the room really was, but it was big enough to hold a circle of nearly 500 chairs, and still have room left over.

That made me think about The Mode Training again. They knew.

They had to know.

They had to have all this space because they knew we were going to need it. They expected this.

In fact, this was very probably exactly the result they desired.

That meant they had to be watching us.

I looked up att the corneres of the room. The cameras were still in place. In fact, one of them was focused on me right now. I had no way of knowing if it was active or not, but I'd bet good money that it was. I waved at the camera and grinned.

"You do know something, don't you?" It was the worried looking woman again.

I couldn't help myself, I was still grinning. I knew she wouldn't believe me. I said, "I honestly don't know any more than you do. I'm just enjoying the joke. Okay?"

"What joke? This isn't funny!"

"Yes, it is. The whole thing is. Everything is. It's all a joke. Life's a big joke that we've played on ourselves-and we're just getting the punch line today."