The Penal Colony Read Online Free Page A

of
job, are not yet middle-aged, and, on the face of it, might be a
useful member of the Community. I have therefore decided that you
will remain outside for six days.”
    Mitchell and Stamper gave barely perceptible
signs of approval.
    “One hundred and forty-four hours after you
leave here tonight, a bell will summon you to the main gate. If you
then wish and are able to ask for a place in the Community, and
present yourself within one hour of the bell, you will be taken to
the Father. You will prostrate yourself before him, renounce all
rights, and humbly beg for admittance. Is that clear?”
    Routledge nodded.
    Appleton pointed at the pile of clothing next
to the lamp. “This is what you arrived in. The rest of your
property is in a cardboard box in the corner, courtesy of the
Prison Service. The whole issue consists of enough clothing to last
you about two years, some vegetable seeds, and sundry hand-tools.
You may take all or part of it now, or leave it here for safe
keeping, in which case you will be given a receipt. What do you
wish to do?”
    Routledge involuntarily looked down at the
old clothes he was wearing.
    “They are a gift to you from the Father,”
Appleton said. “You are under no obligation to return them at the
end of the six days.”
    “What … what do you suggest I do?”
    “That is not for me to say.”
    “Is there a waterproof jacket in the
issue?”
    “Yes. One waxed cotton and one PVC.”
    “The PVC. I’ll take that.”
    Appleton made a pencil note.
    Routledge said, “What happens if I’m not
accepted?”
    “We keep it all.”
    Routledge began to grasp the full implication
of his impending ordeal. “Do you mind if I look through the box?
See what else I might need?”
    “It’s your property.”
    At Appleton’s request, Mitchell brought the
box and put it on the table. There was more clothing than Routledge
might have expected, and of a better quality than mainland
prisoners wore. The tools were mostly for gardening: a hoe head, a
hand-fork, a small trowel, but there was also a long sheath-knife,
which Routledge decided to take.
    Taped to the side of the box was a polythene
wallet containing a slim pad of yellow forms. Mitchell took it out
and gave it to Stamper.
    “These are your requisition slips,” Stamper
said. “You are allowed five requisitions a year. Each requisition
is in two parts. In the first you can ask the Prison Service for
certain articles of hardware or clothing. It tells you on the back
what you can have and how often. The second part is forwarded to
your friends or relatives, if you have any. You can ask them for
luxuries like extra food, books, toiletries, and so on. Anything,
provided the Prison Service agrees, and provided it can go into a
parcel no greater than twenty-five litres in volume and twenty
kilos in weight. Luxury parcels are delivered in strict rotation.
They come over on the next available helicopter, as soon as there’s
space. Drops are made every Tuesday, weather permitting, or on the
first suitable day thereafter.” Stamper reached into his breast
pocket and brought out a ballpoint pen, which, together with the
pad of slips, he proffered to Routledge. “Will you sign them,
please? All of them.”
    Routledge hesitated.
    “Perhaps we should explain in more detail,”
Appleton said to Stamper.
    Stamper, immediately acceding, continued in
the same matter-of-fact tone as before. “If you remain outside,” he
said, “you won’t be having any requisitions. Outsiders are not
allowed near the drop zone. If you enter the Community your slips
will of course be returned to you. Signing will cost you nothing,
and will be regarded as a token of good faith by the Father.
Alternatively, you are entirely free to take them with you. You
understand that, if you remain outside and have taken your slips,
you will immediately be reported dead so that another prisoner can
be received. On the other hand, if you are outside but have left
your slips, you will