Night before last, I had a dream. Clucky was standing by the door to the bunker, speaking to the assembled crowd:

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our Bunker.
Six score hours ago, a great Contestant, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed Looks like fame is good for something. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to two Outsiders who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But five days later, the Outsider still is not free. Five days later, the life of the Outsider is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. Five days later, the Outsider lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. Five days later, the Outsider is still languished in the corners of Contestant society and finds himself an exile in his own Bunker. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we’ve come to our Bunker’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our Bunker wrote the magnificent words of the Ruleset and the Declaration of Victory, they were signing a promissory note to which every Contestant was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all Contestants, yes, Outside Contestants as well as Inside Contestants, would be guaranteed the unalienable Rights of Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. It is obvious today that The Bunker has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her Outside citizens are concerned. Instead of honouring this sacred obligation, The Bunker has given the Outsider people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.”
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this Bunker. And so, we’ve come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind The Bunker of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our Bunker from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of Reality TV’s children.
It would be fatal for the Bunker to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Outsider’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. June Seventeenth is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Outsider needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the Bunker returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in The Bunker until the Outsider is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our Bunker until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvellous new militancy which has engulfed the Outsider community must not lead us to a distrust of all Inside people, for many of our Inside brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Outsider is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of Admin brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the Bedroom of the Bunker. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Outsider’s basic mobility is from a smaller ditch to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: “For Insiders Only.” We cannot be satisfied as long as an Outsider to the north cannot pick fruit and an Outsider to the south cannot exercise. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until “justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.”¹
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from harrowing voting events. And some of you have come from areas where your quest—quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of Admin brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to the east, go back to the west, go back to the south, go back to the north, go back to the ditches and caves of our muddy cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the Contestant dream.
I had a dream that one day this Bunker will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all Contestants are created equal.”
I had a dream that one day on the red sofas of the Lounge, the sons of former Outsiders and the sons of former Insiders will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I had a dream that one day even the bathroom, a room sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I had a dream that my four little children will one day live in a Bunker where they will not be judged by their popularity, but by their score.
I had a dream yesterday!
I had a dream that one day, down in the Basement, with its vicious Green Hatters, with its creepy Crate-Man having his lips dripping with the words of “interposition” and “nullification”—one day right there in the Basement little Outside boys and Outside girls will be able to join hands with little Inside boys and Inside girls as sisters and brothers.
I had a dream yesterday!
I had a dream that one day every Card Game shall be exalted, and every room shall be cleaned, the Cessna will fly, and the kitchen will be used; “and the glory of the Host shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.”

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the Outside with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our Bunker into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day—this will be the day when all of Reality TV’s children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My Bunker ‘tis of thee, sweet Bunker of liberty, of thee I sing.
Bunker where my fathers died, Bunker of the Pilgrim’s pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if The Bunker is to be a great Bunker, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the lovely tables of the lounge.
Let freedom ring from the mighty trees of the Indoor Garden.
Let freedom ring from the shining toilet of the Bathroom.
Let freedom ring from yuri’s Crates in the Basement.
Let freedom ring from the ceramic stove of the Kitchen.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from the medicine balls in the Gym..
Let freedom ring from the desk in the Diary Room.
Let freedom ring from every toe and weight standard of the Reward Room.
From every concrete wall, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every chair and every bed, from every door and every room, we will be able to speed up that day when all of Reality TV’s children, Outside Contestants and Inside Contestants, Executives and Cameramen, Producers and Investors, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Outsider spiritual:
          Free at last! Free at last!
          Thank Reality TV Almighty, we are free at last!