H. Adler - The Wall

“So you see, Herr Landau,” said the commandant, having noticed my name, “you now have a worthy task. If we just let you go back, which, given the circumstances, I don’t doubt will happen, at the border you’d have the chance to sign a pledge whereby you would be required only to state the truth about our nation, and avoid anything that would harm our reputation.”

With this, the formalities came to a pleasant resolution as they wished me a safe journey, saluted, withdrew, and left me to myself. Then the locals were allowed to board the train. People entered my car, and soon my compartment was full. The train passed through several towns as I looked out the window or observed the other passengers, though I didn’t say a word to anyone the entire way to the city, where my old teacher was waiting for me on the platform. We greeted each other warmly. Prenzel suggested that first I needed to have a closer look around the train station with him, which was fitted out more magnificently than ever, and which I’d see if we took a thorough tour of the building. I tentatively risked a countersuggestion and said that I was tired from the day’s journey and worn out, and that after such a long time I was anxious to see the city where my parents had lived, and thus what I wanted most was to quickly get to my hotel, if only to have a bit of a rest. I invited Prenzel to accompany me and to join me for dinner there as my guest. I was then immediately informed that I must be from the moon or something, for my hotel was restricted to foreigners, and locals were forbidden to enter it, including Prenzel. When I asked, I was then also told that natives could not even enter the restaurant. I didn’t inquire any further, but suggested that Prenzel meet me somewhere for dinner after I registered at the hotel. My teacher smiled obliquely and answered my remaining questions with single-word answers that explained little. Then I realized that after I left things had changed here much more than I had previously known.

Prenzel took me by the hand and led me from one end of the station to the other, passing many people, who timidly looked on with surprise, until — without my knowing just what had happened — he delivered me to the station guardhouse. Just like lost luggage, I thought to myself. As no one seemed to be especially concerned about me, I then whispered excitedly to my teacher, asking what this was supposed to mean. He timidly looked around. Once he ascertained that we were not being observed, he confided in me that my situation was relatively good, a couple of interrogations, maybe a couple of days of detention, but there was no need to fear for my life.

“Interrogations? Because of what? I’ve done nothing, Herr Prenzel. I only came because of you, since you invited me with such urgency and enthusiasm. I didn’t come here just so the authorities could keep tabs on me. I just wanted to see the last teacher of mine still alive. You wrote me again and again that your last wish was to see me once again!”

“Certainly it is. For my part, I am deeply grateful that you have come. I was even given a special pass because of it, for they phoned from the border to say that you really had arrived. What a gentleman! Until now, not a single one of my students has returned from abroad to accept my invitation to visit.”

“You’ve invited others …?”

“Be quiet, young man. You don’t know what you’re talking about! Not even my smartest students were smart enough to get through.”

“But I want to leave! I won’t stay here. You’ve seen what my intent was — that’s all I need, so I want to leave straightaway!”

“All I can say is good luck with that!” Prenzel replied in a strangely excited voice, adding more heatedly, “Landau, if you managed to …”

My teacher said nothing more. He pulled himself together, as we were approached by a uniformed youth, and politely addressed him.

“Comrade Assessor, I present you with a dangerous enemy of the state, along with his suitcase. I suggest you assess his political sympathies.”

The Assessor of Sympathies waved mildly for my teacher to step back. As Prenzel bowed deeply to the young man, I saw for the first time how gray and thin the old man’s hair had become. Without the slightest concern for me, he lowered his head and slipped out of the station guardhouse. The Assessor signaled to me to take my suitcase and follow him. I listened without a word and — despite all my distress — with no small hope that it was all a misunderstanding, that after an interrogation everything would become clear, and afterward there would be nothing to prevent my immediate departure. The Assessor prodded me down a badly lit stairway, though there were not many steps, then I was pushed into a garishly lit room, where a woman sat waiting in front of a typewriter. The Assessor sat down behind a conference table and indicated that I should put down my suitcase and sit on a low round stool. I noticed that it was a turn stool, like the ones you used to see in front of a piano. The stool was way too low for me, which is why I started to turn it so that it would go higher — a tiresome business, for the thing was not oiled and squeaked miserably.

“Man alive,” yelled the Assessor of Sympathies. “Are you mad? Leave the witness chair alone for just a minute and sit yourself down!”

“Sorry, the stool is much too low. I’ll almost disappear in front of your table.”

“Just sit down there and be so nice as to not turn around. Understood? Later, we’ll see if you can raise it any higher.”

I gave in and sat down all scrunched up, no higher than the stool, with my legs crossed, since I couldn’t stretch them out. It was exceptionally uncomfortable. The young man took no notice of how I sat there shrunken and only asked me to pull my legs in farther. There was nothing to do but cross them all the more tightly, such that the joints cracked. When I had finally attained the proper position demanded of me, the Assessor just took a cigarette out of his case and tossed a second one to the secretary, which she adroitly caught while saying thanks. There was nothing for me to do but shove my fingers into my pocket in order to fetch my own cigarette, though a sharp look told me immediately that I needed permission to do that. For a long time I was asked nothing, and I observed the Assessor carefully, but without fathoming the thoughts of my opponent. As soon as I moved, the Assessor tapped indignantly on the desktop with a pencil. The Assessor and the secretary stubbed out the glowing ends of their cigarettes, and, finally, the interrogation began.

“Arthur Landau, what is your mission in entering the country?”

“There is no mission—”

“We know there is. You can’t deny it, though it’s all part of the game played between the police and every criminal. But we have little time for such pleasant foolishness. Therefore, for both our sakes, make it short! Who hired you?”

“I came for my own reasons—”

“We know about that, too, a journey made for idealistic reasons. Who sent you here?”

“Who? No one? I only came to visit someone. I just wanted to satisfy the wishes of my old teacher.”

“Fine! But you, of course, knew that Prenzel works for us?”

“I had no idea of that. You mean … No, an old teacher wouldn’t serve as a snitch!”

“Snitch? That’s a bit rude.”

“Okay, then, a policeman.”

“Of course he’s a policeman. It’s obvious that as a teacher he is also a policeman.”

“When I was a student, it wasn’t obvious to me.”

“Fool! Not then! Now! My God, don’t you understand anything?”

“No.”

“But you are saying that you conspired with him? You are raising suspicions against a civil servant? You know, such testimony is a very serious matter, even if you’re innocent!”