Office work

He was seating at his desk, his back pressed against the chair while, in front of him huge piles of papers full of numbers, codes and similar were being left to him, for his accurate check. It was month now that he was processing data's just like those, continually, almost without stopping. Sure, his ashtray was always on the verge of overspilling its contents but, since he had to stay there, at his desk, compiling hundreds of reports, graphics, statistical curves, every day, it wasn't the non-regulatory ash tray that worried him.

Time to time, his colleagues and assistants brought him more papers, more documents, all of them to be checked and approved. There were times when he would have liked to abandon everything and return to his home, to his lovely wife, to spend some time with his children. But the job had to come first, or so his superiors had said to him.

With a tired breath, he began once again his work, taking out a new cigarette from its packet, while he shut off the previous one in the ashtray. After having it lighted up, he took his pen and began again to write, to sign to check and verify.

While his eyes scanned the pages automatically, his mind went back to those happy times with his family, the lovely nights in the woods, around a campfire, the days of shopping in the city while holding by the hands his two daughters. He was sorely missing all that, but he knew already that it was a critical time for his office. The work was huge and his bosses trusted only him to be sure of the figures given and approved. He stared at the burning cigarette butt in his hand and swore under his breath. after quickly tossing it in the ashtray he rapidly lighted up a new one. He already knew what his wife would have said to him if had she known. She would have said to him that he smoked too much. That those things would have him killed one day or another.

But, what could he do about it?

He barely had time to go to eat, and often now his assistants brought him food from the cafeteria, and the time to leave the desk was always almos non-existant. Cigarettes were one of the few things that helped him relax.

He tossed the spent cigarette away, starting up a new one. The fifth one...of the third packet. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he began digging deeper in that boring job, counting and checking the items sent from one place to another, analyzing costs and expenses needed to keep that service active and the the expenses for the personnel, the food, the equipments.

Too many numbers, too many details!


Turning around he felt a cold breeze on his skin, noticing only at that moment that it was late in the night, even though he could have sworn it had been only a minute ago, the middle of the day.
He swore again under his voice, against the time that went away way too fast these days, and against that job that kept him there against his will. He couldn't stop himself from thinking at how long that service had to be maintained. For how long still they had to move that useless trash from one place to another? and to to do what with it? To burn it?

What a waste of time and resources.

With a last tired breath he took another new report from his desk and began reading it between himself.

"Lot 378499-B...From Berlin with destination Auschwitz. Stored quantity: Three hundred. See full detail list here below:

- Reitenstein, Johann. Male, fifty years old, Jew.
- Yevlovich, Rebeka. Female, forty-eight years old, Jew.
- Reitenstein, Markus. Male, twelve years old, Jew.
- Lipowiz, Hannah. Female, five years old, Jew.
- Schmidt, Hans. Male, sixty-five years old, deserter.
- Flughen, Greta. Female, twenty-two years old, communist, rebel.
- ..."


The Feldwebel Karl Cruezfeldt of the Geheime Staats Polizei moved back from the desk, standing up, his dark black uniform perfectly cleaned. The two insignia on his collar, with their S's shaped as bolts, shined for a moment as the light from his desk lamp passed on them, while he advanced toward the window that gave on the city of Berlin.
He let some ashes fall from his cigarette, thinking only to the time when that cleaning operation could finally be considered closed and he could have finally gone back to his family.

Not even for a moment, his busy mind, stopped to think on the fact that millions of people were being killed right under his eyes.

After all, for Karl, that was only trash.