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46. The Hero
- Wilfrid Laurier University Press
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of reserve soldiers, of members of society, of alumni of the Salesian priests of members of the White Party of members of the Yellow Party of decorated informers of eyes and watchmen for the palace of candidates for the sovereign’s personal guard the white list (where the names of all those respectable citizens who are still not on the black list appear) the list designating those who have the right to live, and since he didn’t appear on any of these lists, it was absolutely impossible to obtain anything he needed to continue living, and so, what his absence of papers signified fatefully came true: he was no longer living, he did not exist, he had died, without realizing it. I said at the beginning that I wasn’t worried by the quantity of papers the official was collecting. However, after a period of never-ending coming and going, our space became so reduced that soon we were drawn in close together, as if we were going to look at something really small, in the centre of the room. The papers started to climb up our shoes, and they crept past our feet up our legs, we had papers over our heads, in our pockets, and in our hands as tense as tables, until finally, to avoid problems, we climbed on top of the filing cabinets and the desks. When that official stopped bringing papers, I breathed a sigh of relief. The General Manager gave me a pen again and said to me as he handed me a receipt: “Sign here, and be informed of all your obligations to which you are bound from this moment on, whose written form appears in these papers. Ah,” he continued, “and I am informing you that ignorance of the law is no excuse.” I looked at my analyst, and he smiled back at me, blissfully happy that everything had gone so well, so orderly, so easily, and that the path they wanted me to take was so well-known, so well-worn. “I will never have time to find out all the things that I’m prohibited from doing,” I murmured, feeling discouraged as I looked around. My lawyer was a compassionate person. “You’ll come to my office every day, between 3:00 and 4:00, and read a portion of any of these provisions. Moreover, there will be a large number of functionaries around you, from this time on, who though not requiring anything, will inform you little by little of your new obligations. —— 99 —— They are very experienced in cases of this kind and nothing will happen to you. You’ll see how efficiently everything works,” he informed me. I picked out one of the contracts at random. One, for example, which forced me to spend a third of each day doing a job of no importance to me, one that troubled me and let me be free only on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. I tossed it away, violently. I couldn’t think of anything more malevolent. And how would I be compensated for so much time I’d be sacrificing? My lawyer informed me right away: in exchange for the third of my life I had to make available to carry out the work which was so distasteful to me, I would receive a yellow card and a green one. The yellow one would allow me to buy a little meat weekly, as well as flour and a few apples. I had no need for these things. I sustained myself on dreams. With the green card, on the other hand, I had access to all the Statesponsored functions, that is, I could see any of the movies the State allowed to be seen, since they were harmless, and I could likewise attend any ballet function, ice-skating, or buy any of the permitted books. These things were also unnecessary; movies bored me, the ballet I found antiquated, and the books that weren’t censored were of no interest to anyone. Besides, I realized that this third of my time which I graciously had to make available to the State, didn’t include time spent waiting for transportation to get food, etc., nor was there any provision for clothing. None of that appeared on the card. Obviously, I’d made a bad deal. Another paper, that I randomly chose to look at, spelled out the sanctions I would be subject to if I were to arrive for work...