Chapter 8
COMRADE, YER A SWINE, YOU ARE!
I walked through the main entrance and had a look around. To the right, next to the cemetery wall, huddled a little building with a low roof, but long — like a covered bowling alley. There it was — Radek’s stonecutting workshop. The door was wide open. Radek Stolař was sitting on a little stone sculpture, reading the paper. Only when I got near him did I see that he wasn’t reading at all, but sitting there motionless, paper in hand, staring out blindly into the idiotic vacuum. And because I had no wish to be part of the idiotic vacuum, I took care to avoid his glassy stare; only when I stood right near him did he snap out of his trance and take cognisance of me.
Did you read today’s paper? he asked, with terror in his voice.
Nope. But I know wha
