I found my house partly destroyed by aerial bombs, but still more or less fit to sleep in. However, it was cold and uncomfortable, the rubble on the floor and the mould on the walls were distressing, and I soon went out for a walk.
A great change had come over the city; there were no shops to be seen and the streets were lifeless. Before long, a man with a tin number pinned to his hat came up to me and asked me what I was doing. I said I was taking a walk. He: Have you got a permit? I didn’t understand, an altercation ensued, and he ordered me to follow him to the nearest police station.
We came to a street where all the buildings had white signs bearing the names of offices followed by numbers and letters.
One sign read: ‘Unoccupied civilians 2487 B 4’. We went in. The usual official premises, waiting rooms and corridors smelling of paper, damp clothing, and bureaucracy. After various inquiries I was taken to Room 72 and questioned.
An official looked me over. ‘Can’t you stand at attention?’ he asked me in a stern voice.
‘No,’ I said.
‘Why not?’ he asked.
‘Because I never learned how,’ I said timidly.
‘In any case,’ he said, ‘you were taking a walk without a permit. Do you admit that?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That seems to be true. I didn’t know. You see, I’d been ill for quite some time . . .’
He silenced me with a gesture. ‘The penalty: you are forbidden to wear shoes for three days. Take off your shoes!’
I took off my shoes.
‘Good God, man!’ The official was struck with horror. ‘Leather shoes! Where did you get them? Are you completely out of your mind?’
‘I may not be quite normal mentally, I myself can’t judge. I bought the shoes a few years ago.’
‘Don’t you know that the wearing of leather shoes in any shape or form by civilians is prohibited? – Your shoes are confiscated. And now let’s see your identification papers!’
Merciful heavens, I had none!
‘Incredible!’ the official moaned. ‘Haven’t seen anything like it in over a year!’ He called in a policeman. ‘Take this man to Office 19, Room 8!’
I was driven barefoot through several streets. We went into another official building, passed through corridors, breathed the smell of paper and hopelessness; then I was pushed into a room and questioned by another official. This one was in uniform.
‘You were picked up on the street without identification papers. You are fined two thousand gulden. I will make out your receipt immediately.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ I faltered. ‘I haven’t that much money on me. Couldn’t you lock me up for a while instead?’
He laughed aloud.
‘Lock you up? My dear fellow, what an idea! Do you expect us to feed you in the bargain? – No, my friend, if you can’t pay the trifling fine, I shall have to impose our heaviest penalty, temporary withdrawal of your existence permit! Kindly hand me your existence card!’
I had none.
The official was speechless. He called in two associates; they conferred in whispers, repeatedly motioning in my direction and looking at me with horror and amazement. Then my official had me led away to a detention room, pending deliberations on my case.
There several persons were sitting or standing about; a soldier stood guard at the door. I noticed that apart from my lack of shoes I was by far the best-dressed of the lot. The others treated me with a certain respect and made a seat free for me. A timid little man sidled up to me, bent down, and whispered in my ear: ‘I’ve got a magnificent bargain for you. I have a sugar beet at home. A whole sugar beet in perfect condition. It weighs almost seven pounds. Yours for the asking. What do you offer?’
He moved his ear close to my mouth, and I whispered: ‘You make me an offer. How much do you want?’
He whispered softly back: ‘Let’s say a hundred and fifty gulden!’
I shook my head and looked away. Soon I was deep in thought.
I saw that I had been absent too long, it would be hard for me to adapt. I’d have given a good deal for a pair of shoes or stockings, my bare feet were miserably cold from the wet street. But everyone else in the room was barefoot too.
After a few hours they came for me. I was taken to Office 285, Room 19f. This time the policeman stayed with me. He stationed himself between me and the official, a very high official, it seemed to me.
‘You’ve put yourself in a very nasty position,’ he began. ‘You have been living in this city without an existence permit. You are aware no doubt that the heaviest penalties are in order.’
I made a slight bow.
‘If you please,’ I said, ‘I have only one request. I realise that I am quite unequal to the situation and that my position can only get worse and worse. – Couldn’t you condemn me to death? I should be very grateful!’
The official looked gently into my eyes.
‘I understand,’ he said amiably. ‘But anybody could come asking for that! In any case, you’d need a demise card. Can you afford one? They cost four thousand gulden.’
‘No, I haven’t got that much money. But I’d give all I have. I have an enormous desire to die.’
He smiled strangely.
‘I can believe that, you’re not the only one. But dying isn’t so simple. You belong to the state, my dear man, you are obligated to the state, body and soul. You must know that. But by the way – I see you’re registered under the name of Sinclair, Emil. Could you be Sinclair, the writer?’
‘That’s me!’
‘Oh, I’m so glad. Maybe I can do something for you. Officer, you may leave.’
The policeman left the room, the official shook my hand.
‘I’ve read your books with great interest,’ he said in a friendly tone, ‘and I’ll do my best to help you. – But, good God, how did you get into this incredible situation?’
‘Well, you see, I was away for a while. Two or three years ago I took refuge in the cosmic, and frankly I had rather supposed the war would be over by the time I got back. – But tell me, can you get me a demise card? I’d be ever so grateful.’
‘It may be possible. But first you’ll need an existence permit. Obviously nothing can be done without that. I’ll give you a note to Office 127. On my recommendation they’ll issue you a temporary existence card. But it will only be valid for two days.’
‘Oh,