What was the name of that story by J. G. Ballard gathered in a book (The Day of Forever) I lent out many years ago (to M., in fact, whom I wrote about in my last post)? I've forgotten its name and its details, but something of it has remained in my memory, wrapping itself around me. A man comes to a house where he lives with his executioner. These are his last days, aimable ones, by the sea and in the sun.
When will he die? He doesn't know; but his death will come, he knows that. The executioner is kind, and this is the point: he speaks with infinite solicitude and patience. What he does not doubt, the executioner, is that he must enact the penalty (what for, we never find out). Death will occur, but meanwhile ... why not be kind? Execution is a job like any other; you - the one to be executed, and I, the executor, are bound as client is to vendor. The functionality of the relation clarifies our relationship.
I will kill you, not now, but soon, but meanwhile there are a few hours, a few days, weeks. I am waiting for the order and you will die by my hands. What can we do about it? I, after all, am an executor; you - for some reason, and one I may never know, what does it matter, must be executed. There is no room for clemency. The sentence must be enacted. It's my job. Both of us bend, in our own way to the law, and the law is mighty. What are we compared to the law? It's humble servants. For the law rules over life and death. It spreads its wings around us, protecting us, holding us, saving us from ourselves, but it rules us. And who am I, the executioner? Only the one who enacts the law, who allows its course to be followed. A crude, too crude instrument of the law.
I do not love the law, I have no opinions regarding its justice or injustice. It is the law and that is sufficient. And the law pays no heed to me, who am only its servant. Nor to you, the one who will be killed. Come, let us be realistic and put the thought of the death sentence out of our heads for as long as we can. That unpleasant business lies ahead of us, meanwhile, there is the sun, the sea and this quiet house.