Fourth Day

This morning was special. I talked to a human being. The sound of my voice was eerie. I was sat on a plastic chair, scooped from my loins to my shoulder-blades in the seamless curve of grayish composite. This new room wasn’t very different: no window, no clutter, just a desk with two chairs, and another one in the corner. The man in the suit who woke me this morning was now sat opposite me under the same bleary light as fills my room, the corridors, and, I suspect, the entire building. Thinking of it now, I have no idea how big this place is. How many rooms? I haven’t heard anyone else next door. Am I the only one in here? The place is clean, it’s not like the paint is flaking off the walls – but it’s not fresh either. Their furniture seems new, but not shiny new. Timeless. I wonder whether I’m underground. Maybe there’s a building upstairs, offices, swarming crowds, clatter and chatter.
When I followed the man this morning I felt excited. The morning torpor ebbed as soon as I realized he wasn’t my regular breakfast guy. I don’t know what I expected – the mere fact that he was obviously from outside, that something was going to happen, anything really, got me into a state. We marched down identical corridors for five minutes – in fact, I have no idea, could have been longer. He had me walk in front of him and steered me with a calm, even voice. We sat down. For a while he just looked at me. I felt the flutter in my stomach solidify and mount up my chest. From my bed, with unaccustomed eyes, I had only distinguished a silhouette. Now the man opposite me looked like the standard middle-aged commuter, carefully groomed and modestly dressed, with regular features marred only by a somewhat oversize nose. Thin red veins crowned its flagging nostrils and crawled up his cheekbones. When he spoke, it was with the same neutral voice as had breathed over my shoulder.
-“What is your name?”
Surely they know that? Never mind, let’s show some well-mannered sanity.
With slow, regular pace came more calm, polite questions.
-“Where do you live? When did you move in? Where were you born? What is your telephone number? Are you married? Have you got children? How many? How old? What are their names?”
Bloody hell, they’ve already got records full of that stuff. What’s the catch? They’re out of harm’s way anyway, and it’s not like they’ve got anything to worry about – unless these guys think terrorism begins at kindergarten. No, it’s fine, these are ok questions. He’s not pushy or aggressive. Let’s oblige.
-“ Are you employed? Where? What do you do there? Since when? Who are your colleagues? Who is your boss?”
I know he can look it up on the internet if he wants to, but I still feel oddly embarrassed having to drum this all up. It’s nothing secret, it’s just data, but I feel like I’m laying my soul bare to this guy. Am I giving my family and my colleagues in? No. It’s ok. It’s not like they’re to blame for anything. It’s all on public records anyway. I’m not treading any lines. Ok. Calm down. It’s fine.
-“What’s your social life like? Been out much lately? With who?”
Hey, that’s none of his business.
-“List the people you’ve had contact with this month.”
Come on, like I remember that.
-“Make an effort. We’ve got time. I want the names of everyone you’ve seen in the past month. Have you been away? On a weekend? On a business trip? So do you travel much for work? Where to? How regularly? Who do you see there?”
I venture a remark.
-“Please answer my question. Who do you see there?”

I remained in the room long after the man in the suit had left. I felt tired. My mouth was dry from all the talking. My head buzzed and I couldn’t remember much of what I’d said. I felt I’d come back from a long hike with no direction. I felt like I’d been split open and gutted out by a very gentle surgeon. I felt shame creeping up on me. I had spilled myself. Meek as a lamb. What have I said? Nothing extraordinary. Nothing they can’t have been aware of. What are they playing at, for God’s sake? What’s the point of putting me through this? They know all this stuff! They must have been watching me for some time if I’m in on suspicion of terrorist activity. After a while a guard came and took me back to my room. I’ve been lying here for ages. It’s the first time since I came in here that I can’t sleep. I keep running today over in my head. Shreds of it sail in and out of my mind. What did he ask? His questions were so precise, but I can’t remember any of them now. I feel I repeated myself quite a lot. My brain feels like a tired old sponge. It’s seeping out of it and I’m lying here wide-eyed in the dark straining to keep some of it in the cup of my consciousness. When the man in the suit stood up to leave I hurled some last questions at him. I asked him the time when he was on the doorstep. He didn’t have a watch.