objectives and which parties have set them are anybody’s guess. And that is the chief characteristic of this world war. That’s what makes everyone flee: the enemy is unknown.
We’ve slipped off the organization’s radar. After a nuclear strike on the south coast they would have come to pick us up. After a bioterrorist attack they would have done everything in their power to lift the quarantine in this crucial part of the city as quickly as possible. Harry and I have been left behind. There is no longer anyone here for us to protect and no concrete threat to the building. Our ongoing posting here is an administrative oversight made by a commander who has cracked under the pressure. That’s why we no longer hear anything from the organization—not because we’re carrying on in silence and doing such an excellent job. That’s why the guard doesn’t show up. They’ve forgotten us.
The driver has secretly stockpiled tins in the warehouse. He’s delivered them to us in cardboard boxes, not the usual hard plastic trays. He has tried to amuse us with jokes. Gradually it’s been getting too risky for him and he decided to postpone resupplying us for a week, eight days, he decided to come at night. He was not particularly pleased with the way Harry goaded him, but heshowed that he understood the reaction, he didn’t get angry. And as for us, we can be glad he still brings anything.
70
After a long silence, Harry says that for starters he is quite capable of counting to forty. He speaks calmly. He says that if I had ever seen the last resident, I would understand why he’s not the kind of person one casually overlooks. Particularly because he seldom shows himself. As there is no other exit, he would have needed to come past here during the exodus and Harry would have noticed him. He says, slightly louder, that the organization does not forget its guards. He keeps silent for a moment to give me an opportunity to recognize the absurdity of the inverse. He says that the delay in resupplying was either planned by the organization or a direct consequence of outside events. In both cases, a harsh trial for us. But we’re not here for our enjoyment and I should know that. Lying in a hammock under a palm tree never got anyone into the elite.
71
I’m impressed by his ability to stay calm and his faith in the organization, which has revived in the few days since we’ve been resupplied and is once again irreproachable. He’s also renewed his habit of dropping to the floor without warning every now and then to do fifteen push-ups. He again radiates the composure of a man who is living for a simple, unambiguous goal he has set himself or at leastaccepted. No longer questioning the existence it brings with it. His dedication seems rooted in wisdom.
72
I’ve only been at the post two or three weeks when Harry announces early one morning that the profession of guard is always undervalued. His claim comes out of nowhere. The building is bathed in calm; even the domestics, as I imagine them, are still sleeping peacefully in their narrow beds. His words dissipate in the air of the basement. I’ve imagined the whole thing. Then he asks, “But how much more credit do you get for building a house or driving a train?” I don’t answer him. I know he’s not expecting me to. He says that people demand something superhuman from guards: do nothing, wait and stay alert. An almost impossible task. Repelling an attack is taken for granted. If nothing happens we seem superfluous, almost inconvenient. Idiots with side arms, that’s what people take us for, interchangeable pawns. They—pointing up at the residents—don’t have a clue. They think they’re leading important lives, but they’re just bubbles in the air and without us, they’d burst at the slightest resistance. This—pointing at the concrete between his feet—is the real world. “You and me,” Harry says, “we’re in it up to our knees.”
73
“Hundred times
We’ve slipped off the organization’s radar. After a nuclear strike on the south coast they would have come to pick us up. After a bioterrorist attack they would have done everything in their power to lift the quarantine in this crucial part of the city as quickly as possible. Harry and I have been left behind. There is no longer anyone here for us to protect and no concrete threat to the building. Our ongoing posting here is an administrative oversight made by a commander who has cracked under the pressure. That’s why we no longer hear anything from the organization—not because we’re carrying on in silence and doing such an excellent job. That’s why the guard doesn’t show up. They’ve forgotten us.
The driver has secretly stockpiled tins in the warehouse. He’s delivered them to us in cardboard boxes, not the usual hard plastic trays. He has tried to amuse us with jokes. Gradually it’s been getting too risky for him and he decided to postpone resupplying us for a week, eight days, he decided to come at night. He was not particularly pleased with the way Harry goaded him, but heshowed that he understood the reaction, he didn’t get angry. And as for us, we can be glad he still brings anything.
70
After a long silence, Harry says that for starters he is quite capable of counting to forty. He speaks calmly. He says that if I had ever seen the last resident, I would understand why he’s not the kind of person one casually overlooks. Particularly because he seldom shows himself. As there is no other exit, he would have needed to come past here during the exodus and Harry would have noticed him. He says, slightly louder, that the organization does not forget its guards. He keeps silent for a moment to give me an opportunity to recognize the absurdity of the inverse. He says that the delay in resupplying was either planned by the organization or a direct consequence of outside events. In both cases, a harsh trial for us. But we’re not here for our enjoyment and I should know that. Lying in a hammock under a palm tree never got anyone into the elite.
71
I’m impressed by his ability to stay calm and his faith in the organization, which has revived in the few days since we’ve been resupplied and is once again irreproachable. He’s also renewed his habit of dropping to the floor without warning every now and then to do fifteen push-ups. He again radiates the composure of a man who is living for a simple, unambiguous goal he has set himself or at leastaccepted. No longer questioning the existence it brings with it. His dedication seems rooted in wisdom.
72
I’ve only been at the post two or three weeks when Harry announces early one morning that the profession of guard is always undervalued. His claim comes out of nowhere. The building is bathed in calm; even the domestics, as I imagine them, are still sleeping peacefully in their narrow beds. His words dissipate in the air of the basement. I’ve imagined the whole thing. Then he asks, “But how much more credit do you get for building a house or driving a train?” I don’t answer him. I know he’s not expecting me to. He says that people demand something superhuman from guards: do nothing, wait and stay alert. An almost impossible task. Repelling an attack is taken for granted. If nothing happens we seem superfluous, almost inconvenient. Idiots with side arms, that’s what people take us for, interchangeable pawns. They—pointing up at the residents—don’t have a clue. They think they’re leading important lives, but they’re just bubbles in the air and without us, they’d burst at the slightest resistance. This—pointing at the concrete between his feet—is the real world. “You and me,” Harry says, “we’re in it up to our knees.”
73
“Hundred times
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