Arbeit macht frei: - Fredrick Töben

‘Put on your socks and shoes’.
‘Sir, I…’.
‘Answer the question: Are you refusing to put them on?’.
‘Yes, Sir!’.
‘You! Complaining about your legs, then gallivanting around the world in
your three-piece suit. Ha!’.
A whirlwind of activity ignites the small cell space. Five men take everything
out of the cell and I am asked to strip – do the usual check up that ends in
the squat position – put back into the smock, to rest again on the concrete
bed base.
Bad, bad mistake!
During late afternoon, because I stood so well to attention, I am permitted
to collect the mattress. As I carry it inside a tall young fellow viciously kicks
the end of it, indirectly helping me carry it inside the cell.
That night was again a restful sleep, and Monday passed uneventfully. I am
getting used to the atmosphere and begin to like my smock.
Tuesday morning the cell door opens, a tall elderly man, flabby and a
bulging middle, in civilian clothes stands in the entrance: ‘Good morning,
prisoner. I am the prison visitor. Any complaints?’.
‘No, Sir!’.
The door slams shut. I hear the fellow do his rounds of the cells. Mine was
the first so he must have the habit of starting from the end. Pete wasn’t in
his cell, neither were the other two. I heard him talk with another prisoner
who responded by complaining about the harsh tone and foul language
used by the officers. Bad mistake, I thought.
That afternoon, after a good cell inspection, and just before closing the
door, an officer asks, ‘Why are you not wearing shoes?’.
‘I made a mistake, Sir!’
Another officer standing next to him asked, ‘What’d he say?’.
‘He said he’d made a mistake’.
Wednesday morning begins with my taking the rubbish to the bin where
the tall young fellow waits for me. As I drop the rubbish into the bin he
half-whispers in slow measured tone, ‘I know someone who wants to inflict
pain on you’.
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