She has no idea what she said or did while the world was roaring and white. She has no idea what she looked like, but she feels as if she were shaken into a vibrating cloud of light and noise.
And now she is out of the gate and on the street, which smells of feces and wet stone. The tremulous weakness fades from her legs; her stride grows purposeful, strong.
It is Saturday. She is going to pick up Patsy and Polly at their school across the river, on rue de Grenelle. It will take her an hour to walk there and longer to walk back. Maybe when she returns, she will know what to do.
~ ~ ~
The guard tightens her belt. She speaks.
— Wake up.
— Uh…
— Wake up. It’s morning.
— Wha…?
— Get the fuck out of bed.
— Who are you?
— Get the fuck up, I told you!
— Why?
— Because I told you so.
— It’s the middle of the night.
— No it’s not.
— I’ve only been asleep for ten minutes.
— It’s been three hours.
— What?
— Three hours. I’ve been on duty three hours, and the whole time I’ve been sitting here watching you. So now it’s morning.
— It’s not morning.
— How do you know?
— Leave me alone.
— How do you know?
— Because I’m fucking exhausted, and I want to sleep.
— Answer my question.
— …
— Answer my question.
— I just did.
— Just because you’re tired doesn’t mean it’s morning. You think the sun rises and falls according to when you feel like sleeping?
— …
— When was the last time you saw daylight?
— How the fuck do I know?
— I rest my case.
— Why are you doing this?
— Well, there are two reasons. First of all, I’m the guard and you’re shit, so whatever I say is the law. That’s the most important reason. The second reason is that I’ve been reading your file, and I’m interested in you.
— Great.
— Don’t you want to know why?
— Why?
— Because I know you think you don’t belong here.
— Does anybody think they belong here?
— Nobody likes being here, but that’s not the same thing as thinking they don’t belong.
— …
— Some people know they don’t deserve freedom. Murderers, mostly. Even the really heinous ones. On the whole I prefer working with murderers.
— Why?
— Because they know the difference between right and wrong. They know that some people are good and some people are evil and there is no in-between.
— How can you say that?
— You see! That’s exactly what I’m talking about.
— No in-between. How can you say that?
— Because that’s the way it is.
The prisoner makes a vocalization that commonly precedes speech. The guard speaks.
— Shut up! I’m still talking. I know what you are going to say. You’re going to tell me about complexity, ambiguity, our muddy human souls. But none of that matters. So what if you wanted to do the right thing? So what if you thought you were doing the right thing? Or if you had a terrible childhood? Or even if you were insane? If the thing you did was evil, that’s all that matters: You’re evil. You belong here. End of story.
— How can you say that?
— Hah!
— What?
— Didn’t I just tell you? You’re shit in here. And I’m God. Right? I’m the big, fucking, all-powerful mystery. Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Didst thou create Behemoth? Leviathan? Have the gates of death been open unto thee? Get down on thy knees! Repent in dust and ashes!
The prisoner is laughing. The guard speaks.
— What’s so funny?
— Nothing.
— Then shut up!
— …
— …
The prisoner speaks.
— But still, there’s a flaw in your reasoning.
— I knew you’d say that.
— So you know what I’m talking about?
— Why don’t you tell me?
— You said if the thing you did was evil. That implies that you have to have a way of distinguishing evil from ordinary wrongdoing, or even from virtue — because, after all, sometimes evil is just a matter of perspective. The theft of a loaf of bread might seem evil to the baker, but to the starving man—
— Just like I said: Complexity. Ambiguity. Our muddy human souls. You’re like a robot.
— Don’t evade the point.
— What is the point?
— The point is that conclusions about whether a person is good or evil have to be based on evidence, and evidence can be misleading, or just hard to interpret. And then there’s the matter of terminology. How exactly do you define evil? And where do you draw the line—
— Are you actually paying attention to what you are saying?
— …
— I mean, do you actually think it takes a rocket scientist to figure out that a man who buys and sells human beings is evil?
— …
— Well? What have you got to say for yourself?
— That’s not what I…
— You think there’s any way that trading in human beings isn’t evil?
— I’m just talking about what you said, about there being no in-between.
— Well, you know what? I don’t give a fuck about what you were talking about. If you’re evil, you’re evil. That’s all there is to it. We’re not talking garden variety screwup here, or even mean fucking bastard. We’re talking evil. There’s no such thing as being a little bit evil. Evil is an all or nothing proposition. That’s it. And all your talk about ambiguity, definitions and all that other bullshit is just a way of avoiding the simple truth.
— And I’m saying that there is no such thing as simple truth. For better or for worse, reality is always complex and ambiguous, and a failure to recognize that fact leads straight to tyranny.
The guard shakes her head and smiles. The prisoner speaks.
— What?
— If that’s what you think, then it looks like you’ve got a lot to learn about tyranny.
She bangs her billy club against the bars of the cell. The prisoner leaps backward. He speaks.
— What the fuck!
— Get down on your knees!
— …
— You heard me! Get down on your knees!
The guard pulls a ring of keys out of her pocket and unlocks the cell door. The prisoner speaks.
— What are you doing?
The guard bangs her billy club against the cell bars once again, but far more forcefully. The bars ring. The ringing reverberates down the corridor. The prisoner speaks.
— What are you doing?
— I’m going to teach you a lesson about tyranny.
The door swings open as if of its own accord. The guard and the prisoner look into each other’s eyes. She speaks.
— And about your fucking pursuit of happiness and your fucking created equal.
The guard enters the cell. The prisoner backs away. The guard speaks.
— That is so fucking over.
~ ~ ~