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long corridor into the supply room.
    As I wait for him to return, one boy begins whispering into another boy’s ear, and the next thing I know they are all whispering to each other.
    â€œThey revealed some names.”
    â€œThe ones under Blank?”
    â€œYes. Berger, Lumpit, Nester, and Blurd.”
    â€œBlurd?”
    â€œYes, Blurd.”
    â€œAnyone else?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBut there are more to come.”
    â€œAnything concrete?”
    â€œTheir books were confiscated.”
    â€œYes, that I heard.”
    â€œThey’re being reviewed.”
    â€œThey say many others.”
    â€œMany names.”
    â€œYes, they’ll follow.”
    â€œFound in a vault, they say.”
    â€œIn a trunk.”
    â€œIn a vault.”
    â€œThey will no doubt find others.”
    â€œThere is no telling how far up it will go.”
    â€œI have heard a woman in Internal Affairs.”
    â€œLet go to Sales.”
    â€œThey have the most evidence on her.”
    â€œNothing shredded.”
    â€œNothing hidden.”
    â€œIt was all there in plain light.”
    â€œThey say she confessed.”
    â€œI wonder how long it will be before the viewing?”
    â€œIt shouldn’t be long.”
    â€œIt could be any time now.”
    â€œIs there any other news?”
    â€œOnly that it’s big.”
    â€œBigger than ever before.”
    â€œOur lives are to be affected.”
    â€œChanged.”
    â€œNever to be the same again.”
    â€œOur path to Paradise might be…”
    â€œTo be kept from Paradise…”
    â€œIt just might be.”
    â€œA great disappointment.”
    â€œSo it seems.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYes yes.”
    When the boy returns with my order everyone becomes silent.
    I look at them.
    They look at me.
    â€œVery well done,” I say to the boy.
    He hands back my list, on which is stamped “Received.” He hands over six black and six blue pens (all of which are individually shrink-wrapped and inspected for noticeable perforations), four yellow legal pads (also individually shrink-wrapped), and a
Wall Street Journal
wrapped in a plastic bag with a red twisty tie at the top (each page has been lightly misted with disinfectant). I ask the boy’s name because I am impressed with his diligence.
    â€œVenison, sir!”
    â€œGood work, Venison.”
    I briskly walk away from the boys to show them my diligence is not unlike theirs, that I too have an authority to whom I must bow. I can hear their whispers turn into plain speech as I depart. It follows me through the narrow passageway until I am several hundred feet beyond them.
    When I reach Bathroom Number Three, I first place the newly gathered objects on a tray whose specific purpose is for the bathroom’s preparation. I remove a pair of sterilized rubber gloves from a supply closet resembling the medical supply pantry in the kitchen and put them on. I remove the
Wall Street Journal
from its package and unfold it. I go to the center page and lay the fold overthe newspaper rack built into the wall for such a purpose. I leave each pen and pad in its shrink-wrap and place these items on a shelf below the rack. From Bathroom Number Three’s supply closet, I remove a sterilized phone from its shelf along with a cord, which like everything else is wrapped in plastic. I place these things on top of a recently overhauled Zenith and roll everything in front of the toilet. I remove the cord from the bag, plug it into the phone and click the attachment into the wall. I place the phone with the cord neatly coiled next to the toilet on a little foot-stool. I run into the bathroom supply closet and open a new box of Kleenex, which I place next to the phone. I reach into my pocket and remove my tape measure. I measure three feet from the head of the toilet outward to the center of the room. I roll the television over the marble floor to the spot I have