The Kindly Ones

I could now take a few steps, if someone supported me; this was useful, since it allowed me to go to the bathroom. My body, if I concentrated, began again to obey my orders, fractious at first, then with more docility; only my left hand continued to hold itself apart from the general entente; I could move the fingers, but they would under no conditions agree to close, to form a fist. In a mirror, I looked for the first time at my face: to tell the truth, I didn’t recognize anything in it, I didn’t see how this mosaic of such diverse features held together, and the more I considered them, the more foreign they became. The white bands wrapped around my skull at least prevented it from bursting open, that was already something and even a considerable something, but it didn’t help my speculations make any progress; this face looked like a collection of pieces that fit together well enough but came from different puzzles. Finally, a doctor came to tell me that I was going to leave: I was healed, he explained, they couldn’t do anything more for me, I was going to be sent elsewhere to regain my strength. Healed! What a surprising word, I didn’t even know I had been hurt. In fact, a bullet had gone through my head. By a chance less rare than people think, they patiently explained to me, I not only had survived, but I wouldn’t suffer any after-effects; the stiffness of my left hand, a slight neurological difficulty, would persist a little while longer, but that too would go away. This precise scientific information filled me with astonishment: so, these unusual and mysterious sensations had a cause, an explainable and rational one; but even with an effort, I couldn’t manage to co

I liked the well-regulated life on this beautiful, bare, cold island, all grays, yellows, and pale blues; there were just enough sharp edges to cling to there, to keep from being carried away by the wind, but not too many, so you didn’t risk getting scraped. Thomas came to see me; he brought me gifts, a bottle of French Cognac and a fine leather-bound edition of Nietzsche; but I wasn’t allowed to drink, and I would have been quite incapable of reading: all meaning fled, and the alphabet mocked me. I thanked him and tucked away his gifts in a chest of drawers. The insignia on the collar of his handsome black uniform now bore, over the four diamonds embroidered in silver thread, two bars, and a chevron adorned the center of his epaulettes: he had been promoted to SS-Obersturmba