CHAPTER IV
MONDAY AFTERNOON
Later in the day; about 5:30, I think; I have no watch and nowhere does there seem to be a clock in sight, so I am necessarily rather vague as to the exact time.
I am again double locked in my cell, this time for the night—fourteen mortal hours.
For me there is plenty to do—to write, to read, to think about; but how about those who do not care for reading, who write with difficulty, or who can neither read nor write? Then again, I look forward to only six nights in this stone vault; but how about those who must look forward to an endless series of nights, month after month, year after year, five, ten, fifteen, twenty years, life?
My God! How do they ever stand it?
Until nine o’clock, when the lights will go out, I am my own master; my own master in a world of four feet by seven and a half, in which I am the only inhabitant. Other human beings are living all about—on either side, at the back, above, below; yet separated by double thick stone walls from every other living creature in this great community, I am absolutely solitary. I have never felt so curiously, desperately lonely. The loneliness in the midst of crowds is proverbial; but the loneliness in the midst of a crowd of invisible human beings—not one of whom do you even hear—that has in it an element of heavily weighted horror which is quite indescribable. It can only be felt.
The curious sensation of nervous resentment, noticed this noon, is upon me in greater force to-night. If I were to just let myself go, I believe I should soon be beating my fists on the iron grated door of my cage and yelling. Of course I shall do nothing so foolish, but I feel the impulse distinctly. I wonder how I shall stand a week of this. I must certainly keep my nerves under better control, at present they are quivering at the slightest sound.
This has certainly been one of the most interesting days of my life, and the afternoon more interesting than the morning. I wish I could describe it adequately.