You see, these people, they believe now. They trust our policy. They will become good people. They want to get amnesty from our government.
When will their reeducation be completed? said the Angel.
It's not much longer to stay. Soon they will be good.
And are you good? asked the angel.
Me? said the officer. Of course I am good.
Bring in the prisoner, said the Angel.
The man came in bowing and blinking, skinny and terrified.
How long have you been in prison? said the Angel.
Two years and seven months.
Have you had a trial?
No.
What sentence do you expect?
I hope that the authorities here will let me free at one time and now I try to be a good people as the other. .
You are not good now?
No, sir. No, I am not good.
The Angel took the right hand of the prisoner and placed it in the officer's left hand. He said: By the power vested in me I join you both in marriage forever. You are fitted for each other.
The prison was an immense white skull on a hill of snow-white rock and snow-white sand near the seaport. The blue gate, partly rusted, opened all its teeth at the Angel's touch. He ascended the steep white steps overlooking the sea. The next door was rusty red, and a guard saw him coming through the bars and opened so that he could follow the snow-white hall which was flecked and cracked and pitted, and so he came to more bars. There was a dusty white courtyard. The first section was on the left. It was white, of course, with bars. That was for the prisoners with one to fifteen years. Behind the courtyard's single tree was the Asab section: fifteen years to life.
Well, thought the Angel biliously, let's see who's good now. The man's face was sick and cratered. He was dull-eyed and stinking, and there were scars all over his skinny body. The guards allowed him to sit down. Otherwise they would have been compelled to hold him up.
I get a sickness all around my penis, the man said. I got a small boil on penis, then I scratch it.
Are you a thief?
A looter.
Weakly he smoothed his sweaty hair.
First I have stab someone with a knife to get fifty shillings, the man said. Police complained and put me here.
Can you read?
No.
Do you know the Qur'an?
Yes.
Do you think about it now?
If I think about the Qur'an I know I am destroyed for everything. So I don't think about it anymore.
So you feel alone, do you?
I–I don't have a wife. My family is still alive. They too are hungry. They too are looters.
The Angel paced. — You know Whom I work for. He's preparing the sea of fire for you right now. Do you have anything further to say?
The man looked at him. — The only thing I can tell you is that I am sick, and if I can get some medicines I am better.
You know there's no medicine for you, the Angel said. You know that you were born for burning.
I want to be good, the man whispered. I want to be different, but my problems are not different.
Ah, so he wants to improve, the Angel smiled to the guards. Well, what can I recommend? I know! Why don't you practice screaming? You really ought to get your lungs in shape.
I want to go back to jail because people are so friendly there, the smiling man said. Well, maybe I can put in a word for you, said the Angel modestly.
I did two months and two-and-a-half months and four months, crowed the smiling man. For sexual assault. And in jail I learned to walk like this!
The smiling man shuffled back and forth across the floor, turning his head blankly from side to side. The Inuit girls laughed and cringed back.
I'm going to Winnipeg to get my head examined by three psychiatrists, he said proudly. I won't be back for a long time, maybe two years.
He lay down in fetal position on the floor.
I really like the food in jail, too, the smiling man said. (There was something in his eyes like crawly white ice on the blue sea.) It's the best food in the world.
On the other hand, said the Angel in delight at his own sagacity, if you want to go back to prison, then you must not deserve to go. That's how we've always operated.
At this, the man leaped to his feet and screamed horribly. The Inuit girls screamed at his scream and ran outside.
The room had a rectangle cut in the door so that the keeper could peer in. It was the small prison, the short-time prison. There was a pallet with two round pillows. The pallet ran from wall to wall. It had a veneer of plastic paper which pretended to be wood, and it was sticky from the sweat of naked bodies. Beside it was the knee-high basin with the hosepipe; that was where she squatted afterward; and then the plastic cup for used rubbers.
Within seconds, the tiny room reeked of her purple lipstick.
Twice she pulled him out to make certain that the condom hadn't broken. Each time she fiddled with it again. All the girls believed that death was spread mainly by angels.
