Berlin blood

Germany Wilke sat at another gray meeting. The boss swore and threatened to disperse everyone and personally drag them out into the street, but everyone present — about fifteen people — did not believe this. Things were going much worse than anyone could have imagined, and Wilke was in no hurry to do anything beyond his work. What for? He always has poison in his pocket, a farewell note too, he is ready to face death as it should be. True, he still wanted to end his life in a black suit, and not in the gray one he was wearing now. And that’s why he has a black suit with him. There is no apartment, but that’s for the best. If he had such a burden, he would not want to die. Everyone is at headquarters day and night, there is a lot of work, and no one is allowed to go. Was everyone crazy, or was that the case, just no one wanted to admit that he was crazy, or that they were all at the disposal of a man who didn’t even drink? The meeting is over, and Wilke goes to his office, a cozy place that is separated from the rest of the world by a door. — Are you in a hurry somewhere? — Crap! “I didn’t have time,” Wilke cursed. — Heinrich Wenger. Of course not… However, if you think about it, then yes! To your office. I don’t like standing in the middle of a corridor filled with crazy people. — Are you seriously? — the man looked at him slightly contemptuously. “Absolutely, and don’t say that you don’t think the same,” Wilke wanted to get out of the situation in which he was. “Come with me,” he takes him by the elbow and literally forcibly drags him into the office. Wilke doesn’t resist. He understands: this is a useless exercise. Heinrich leads him into his office, they walk along corridors with barely burning lights and empty walls that press on you. And what irritated Wilke most of all was that they walked as if in a parade, their heels clicking on the parquet floor. This sound echoed from the walls, and it seemed that he was being led to execution. Heinrich, dragging this creature, noted to himself: “How weak do you have to be to be afraid of every sound and every rustle?” He specifically took this unfortunate man into his office, because a little more, and he would commit suicide: it was written on his face when he left, so the man wanted to distract him a little and just talk to him, in order to calm him down a little, and he himself needs to speak out, and this helps. Heinrich knew that people commit suicide not because life is hard for them, but because at the right moment no one wanted to listen to them and calm them down. Having arrived, they sit down opposite each other, and Heinrich takes out cognac. — I didn’t know you were drinking. -You thought I was a teetotaler? Of course not, I don’t know a single person who wouldn’t start drinking except Hitler. “I admit, I’m thinking about giving up everything right now,” Wilke for the first time wants to share his thoughts, of which there are too many in his head, too many emotions and experiences in his soul and they are about to overwhelm him. -Are you talking about suicide? Believe me, you will only appear weak. Suicide is always an escape, but you’re not the kind of person who, having come this far, will end up like this, right? Why do you crave this method of escape? You came here full of dreams, went through a bunch of tests, a bunch of physical training. — Why not? I know that I am acting like a coward and a traitor, but any person will run away now, if, of course, his life is dear to him and he loves it. We have never been in self-love. We are always forced to love anyone, but not our own life. — For example? — the man handed him a glass of amber-colored liquid, and he drank. — For example, when they are forced to work twelve hours a day because the salary is good. Or when they force us to hide our true thoughts because they don’t fit the mold. We spend our whole lives chasing the ideal, the ideas, creating these ideals, and then stuffing the unfitting into it. Look at nature. She’s all different. All animals are different, and only we humans spend our whole lives trying to be like each other. — But in the animal world there are different species. — We have nationalities. Animals do not try to appropriate one species and subjugate all others. Yes, some species disappear, some appear, but this does not make them similar to each other. We, the people, want there to be no other nations on earth except one. There was no more than one idea, there was no more than one kind of love. Why so few? — Maybe because people don’t want to get confused? Perhaps we have come to the point that our brain does not perceive more complex information, maybe we have simplified our lives so much that we can no longer perceive something multifaceted and complex and are trying to simplify everything? Yes, it’s one thing when nature does this, and note: she has never made a mistake, unlike us, from people, that’s another thing. I think that since we started burning books, this world doesn’t have much left. — How long do you think we can stay here? — the question sounded harsh, and Heinrich did not know the answer to it. He thought about it a lot and every time he was afraid to find the answer to it. “I don’t know…” he hesitated. — God willing, by the end of the year. Honestly, I don’t care. I don’t see the point in doing anything, it doesn’t depend on me, so what’s the point in worrying? — Heinrich fills the glasses again. — You’re right. I wonder if Paul has already been caught? I doubt that he will be taken to Germany at all,” Wilke blamed everything on his stupidity and inability to refuse in some situations. Each time he replayed memories of Paula in his head and was angry with himself, and then agreed with himself that it was useless. — We will find out soon: he does not hide his face. He’s not like that. — I guess so. Are you suppressing something within yourself? — Thoughts. There are a lot of them and they get into my head, I can’t get rid of them,” he looked out the window and again at his interlocutor. — Sit down and write them. — What if they go against the opinion of the state? — the man raised an eyebrow: the person sitting in front of him seemed simple in appearance, but turned out to be complex inside, and this sparked interest in talking to him again and again. Study Wilke more and more deeply. — Write anyway. We have nothing more to lose: we are at the very bottom, and it’s certainly not up to us to rake it out. We can get up from the table at any time and leave the holiday called “life”. — By the way… — What? — Wilke, who had been floating somewhere in another world, woke up. — The agent sent for Paul was shot dead in Paris today — you will have to go in his place. — What? — Wilke was amazed. Damn, that wasn’t his plan. “But I… I’m clearly not the one who can cope with this task, besides, I’m sure you have someone else…” he hoped to disappear. — No, and I don’t want to use too many people in this operation. That’s why you’re leaving tomorrow morning,” Heinrich pressed, the deadlines were pressing. — Have it your way. The men exchanged glances. Both clinked glasses and drained their glasses, each thinking about his own. Wilke later thanked Heinrich for his time and went to his office, thinking to himself. The corridor is quiet and lonely, you can only hear the doors closing on the first floor. A feeling of deadness and wild death that walks along the floors and is looking for someone to take with it. Wilke quickened his pace and, closing the doors, took out a blank sheet of paper from the drawer and began to type his words that he wanted to tell the world now.