‘No,’ says Martin.

‘No, I’m quite confused, I’ve lost my way,’ says the man. ‘But I’m sure it’s here,’ he adds suddenly and walks away, this time in a completely different direction from the one he was following when Martin bumped into him – when he had been going straight towards the centre.

Nobody goes towards the centre.

Martin watches the man go with a feeling of satisfaction. Look how human he is – one can recognize oneself. How natural he was!

Martin walks along a side passage and comes out into the arrow corridor again. There he bumps into the man a second time. He is on his way towards the centre once more. Martin has no intention of hindering him, but the man mutters an imprecation and turns, pretending to search among these doors for the right one. As if searching for the devil. Martin hurries away from him, a satisfied sigh in his heart: Look how human he is! That’s how we are when we don’t show off and try to be different and superior and condemn others.

He is seething with hatred for the people he is thinking about now. He walks faster, but before he has gone very far he is pressing up against the wall. He has heard a dragging, almost imperceptible sound from round the corner. So low, and yet as if heard by all. Something that makes you think of a huge snake slithering along. A few quiet rubber tyres are producing this unpleasant sound. It is the notorious van passing, paralysing people with its sound. It slithers round the house continually, bringing people into the centre. Nobody knows when it might not be standing outside their door.

Martin hears the slight sound and turns quickly with his face to the wall. He will not turn round. He knows what it looks like: seemingly without any people in it this van glides along. It is completely closed, like a black shadow coming to give warning of destruction and horror. He flattens himself against the wall, hears it gliding across the floor behind him and move past. Somebody who has been battling against the darkness is going to be collected. The darkness itself comes and brings him in to the great centre.

Horrible scenes come into his mind. The van glides past, along the shining arrow corridor, and turns the corner. Then nothing more is known of it. It never stops exactly where it is going to strike.

Martin shakes off the horror. There is no need for him to be afraid of it. Why should he behave in such a way as to end up in the van? His work lies in other areas. He is sorry for those who do end up there, of course, but they should have thought of that before.

He walks on. Then he meets a fellow he knows. It is past bedtime, but it does not surprise him when he encounters someone. The house is bewitched, and is subject to such pressure that people’s temples are hammering.