Volker Kaminski

He could hardly wait to confront the assistants. He had never visited the building on Rua 9, but he had imagined going there a hundred times to vent his frustration. He didn’t believe he would impress the assistants, as he was familiar with their stiff, unexcited reactions. They did not behave like humans – although they had been taught to use human language, they remained lifeless creatures forever. Once, without thinking, he had placed his hand on an assistant's shoulder and was surprised by the coolness. The spot he touched was perhaps fifteen degrees warm. The material beneath the fabric revealed a firm, not too hard consistency; one could easily believe it was human tissue with bones underneath. The assistant had noticed his touch without reacting. What would happen if I pressed harder? Bäumer wondered. Just as he had sometimes done in the past when he placed a hand on a student’s shoulder and signaled with a brief pressure that he wanted their attention. During the drive to Rua 9, Bäumer had not paid attention to the road. As the rain subsided, he got out of the vehicle in front of the building, paid the chauffeur, and looked up at the smooth white facade with his head tilted back. An imposing, massive structure. The windows were strikingly narrow – the word "arrow slits" came to mind. It was as if they wanted to keep daylight out of this building.