The van glides on. The sentry has his fingers on the delicate closing mechanism and plays on it in order to lock the door behind what has slid in. He cannot know what it was.

It happened so quickly, yet he had noticed many small details. He stands bewildered. What happened? Had he not been there at all, this troublesome fellow with his question? It’s all deserted here, it’s tempting to tell oneself that it was just imagination. But he is unable to do so; it is as if some heavy sediment inside him has been stirred up.

He has such a strong desire to look around him but he cannot, he must watch the lamp. The van may already be on its way out, it has an appalling number of rounds to go. If he doesn’t take care the trap will open for him too.

He says harshly: He got what he deserved. But the tired young face haunts him. He sees it as it was with the glass partition between them, that mouth which opened and spoke without making a sound.

Then the eye blinks in the wall and a new opening of the door is registered for golden reward. Lights are blinking and panels being read everywhere.

Did this really happen?

The memory of it returns again and again.

Time must be up now, surely? Spots have begun to dance in front of his eyes. Time to be relieved. Yes, there he is, the relief is standing in front of him in the glass doorway. They exchange a glance. See the accomplice, bind him to me, they do this all the time. The one who is leaving reports on where the van came from last. It has no significance for the opening mechanism, but they do it so that it will sound as if they are responsible for something themselves. Now he can go and rest.

Food is all ready in there, and he eats and drinks. There is the bed. He lies down. But this time the warning light is after him. He can see it blinking ceaselessly in his sleep.

Then he starts up: he was dreaming that the door did not open when he played on the switches and formed the secret code, and the van came from outside and had to stop, and a terrible face stuck out of the side of the van right through the steel plate as if it had been paper – and turned him into a shadow on the wall. Nothing but a dark stain.

The sweat is trickling down him. He has seen himself become nothing but a shadow on a wall. He looks at the clock. There is still plenty of time before he must go out and take over. The alarm is silent. He waits impatiently for his turn to report, waits to take the few paces across to the sentry box because of his unpleasant dream.

Best not to wait till it rings. Best to get ready. He gets up and puts on the few clothes he is allowed to take off. Then he sits waiting. When the alarm finally rings he is so exhausted and anxious that the familiar sound makes him jump. He still cannot leave, he must wait.