Listen, Pepper, he thought, maybe all this merry-go-round exists just for that - so everybody's kept busy? In actual fact a good mechanic can service a car in two hours. What happens after that? What about the other twenty-two hours? And if in addition competent workmen operate the machines so as to keep them in good order? The answer's not far to seek: give the good mechanic a job as a cook, make the cook a mechanic. That way you can fill twenty-two years, never mind hours. No, there was a certain logic in it. Everybody works, discharging his obligations to humanity, not like well, monkeys ... and they extend their specialization range... Anyhow, there's no logic at all there, it's an unholy mess, that's all... My god, I'm standing here like a post, while they're defiling the forest, eradicating it, turning it into a park. Something's got to be done, now I'm responsible for every acre, every pup, every mermaid, I'm responsible for it all now...
He moved into action, somehow got the safe shut, rushed over to the table, pushed the file folder from him and pulled out a clean sheet of paper from the drawer... There's thousands of people here, though, he thought. Traditions have been founded, accepted attitudes, they'll laugh at me... He recalled the wretched, sweating Hausbotcher and indeed himself in the director's anteroom. No, they wouldn't laugh at him. They'd cry, complain ... to ... Monsieur Alas ... they'd kill each other. But not laugh. That was the worst part of it, he thought, they didn't know how to laugh, they didn't know what that was or the reason for it. People, he thought, people and little people and littler people. Democracy's what's wanted, freedom of opinion, freedom of criticism, I'll get them all together and tell them: criticize! Criticize and laugh... Yes, they would criticize. They'd do it at length with warmth and ecstasy since they'd been ordered to do it, they'd criticize the inadequate supplies of yogurt, the poor food in the canteen, they'd lay into the street cleaners with particular relish: roads unswept in donkey's years, they'd criticize driver Acey for systematic bathhouse avoidance, and in between they'd hurry to the latrine overhanging the precipice... No, I'll get things in a tangle that way, he thought. A set procedure is what we want. What have I got now?
He began writing swiftly and illegibly on the sheet:
"Forest Eradication Group, Forest Research Group, Forest Military Guard, Assistance to Native Population Group..." What else was there? Yes! "Engineering Penetration Group." Yes, and ... "Science Security Group." The lot, apparently. So. What did they all do? Odd, I've never wondered up till now what they all do here. What's more, I've never wondered what the Directorate does anyway. How is it possible to combine forest eradication with a forest guard, and assist the local populations at the same time.
Well, now, he thought. For a start, no eradications. Eradicate Eradication. Engineering Penetration too, most likely. Or let them work up top, they're no use down there, anyway. Let their machines cope. Let them build a good road, let them drain that stinking bog... What's left then? The military guard. And wolfhounds. Well, anyway ... anyway the forest has to be guarded. Only ... he recalled the faces of the guards he had encountered and gnawed his lip doubtfully, Mm-yes... Well all right, we'll assume that. But why the Directorate? Why me! Dispense with the Directorate, eh? He had a feeling of weird gaiety. Now that would be something, he thought. I can do it! Disperse it and that's it, he thought. Who's my judge? I'm the director, the chief. One order - finish!
Suddenly he heard ponderous footsteps somewhere close. The glass chandelier tinkled, the drying socks swayed on the line. Pepper rose and tiptoed to the little door. Just beyond it someone was walking unsteadily, as it might be stumbling, but nothing else could be heard and there wasn't even a keyhole to look through. Pepper cautiously pulled at the handle but the door did not yield.
"Who's there?" he asked loudly, placing his lips to the crack. No one replied but the footsteps continued. It was like a drunk wandering along, falling over his own legs. Pepper tried the handle again, gave a shrug, and went back to his chair.
