Diktat

The first time it was Darth Vader. This time it was Hitler.

Nothing really happens for a while, but then everyone is herded into a town hall sort of a building and a lot of people are shot dead by Stormtroopers.

Darth Vader is standing at the front, giving orders. It looks a bit like the school hall, with the stage where it is and the varnished wooden floor, old, infinitely dusty, scuffed beyond repair.

So.

Some people are screaming and I’ve thrown myself onto the floor, like they do in war films when a shell explodes and I pretend to be dead. I am trying desperately not to move a muscle, not to breathe, trying so hard to show absolutely no sign of life because I am petrified, because they will shoot me as well.

A few minutes vanish and the adrenaline levels out and my heart isn’t beating as fast. Some friends are here, doing what I’m doing.

They are not dead.

Vader, escorted by maybe 6 or 8 Stormtroopers, leaves.

And then there’s something about filling out forms and going home.

*****

With Hitler it’s different, but only just.

Hitler is being played by the actor and comedian Kevin Eldon.

People are shot, but not as many this time. There are fewer fatalities. I pretend to be dead again, but no one else does. They all seem to find this strange.

After what seems to have been the passing of several hours of lying face-down on the floor, cheek squashed against the fusty wood, concentrating on absolute stillness, finally I lift my head, haul myself up. And I find I’m seated on a chair with everyone else, all in rows.

A middle aged, short, slightly overweight woman is standing at the front now, telling us about these forms we have to fill in: two each, then we can go home. She says something vague about results and letting us know.

You must come back here later, to find out.

The forms are distributed.

Hitler is strolling about, quite calmly, a couple of henchmen with him.
He has his own office.

Everyone sets about filling out the forms, on the floor or half sitting on their chairs for a hard surface to lean on.

One form was bigger than the other, A4 and the other A5. The smaller one simply wanted your personal details: name, address, marital status, and bank account information.

The atmosphere is sodden with fear, yet somehow successfully feigning quiet.


We are all going to die.
This much we know.


I make a mistake on the second form and sheepishly ask The Woman for another. She’s very nice about it, jokey. She goes into the office, Hitler following, both looking for another copy.

I hear Hitler raise his voice to someone, calls them

‘stupid’.

They come out of the office together, the woman hands me a new form.

There you go.
Thank you.

I fill it out carefully this time, give it back to her, apologise for the trouble.

That’s ok, not to worry.

Hitler walks past.

I’m sorry about the thing with the form.
Oh, that’s ok, he says, smiling. She’s just bloody useless.

I can leave now, out into the cold evening, and go home, although it’s not really my home. Nothing here is mine.

My mother has made me dinner, asks how it went.

I have to go back.
Okay.

I cannot eat.

I try and think of a way to escape while I’m sitting here.
I can’t think of one.

*****

I go and meet up with friends.
They are sitting - or standing, it doesn’t matter - outside the town hall place, smoking.
Fear has condemned us to silence. Almost silence.
To:

Alright?
Yep.
Anyone got a light?
Yep.

Click. Click. Fizz.

Sad, defeated, smoke.
Smoking.

The hall doors open, pouring a huge beam light out into the dark evening street.
People start to go in, the crowd sputtering forward like old motorcars.

This is not heaven.
This is not the opposite of heaven.


*****