Memoirs Found In a Bathtub Read Online Free PDF

General Kashenblade.”
    If I thought the other officers would look up at these words, I was greatly mistaken.
    “Your name?” I was asked in the same brisk manner. This officer had the muscular hands of an athlete, tanned, with a small tattoo in code.
    I gave my name. He pressed the keys of a machine on his desk.
    “The nature of the Mission?”
    “I’m to be briefed on that here.”
    “Oh?” he said. He took his jacket off the chair, put it on, buttoned it, adjusted the epaulets and headed for a side door.
    “Follow me.”
    I followed him, looking around and realizing for the first time that the officer who had brought me here never entered, but remained in the hall.
    My new guide turned a desk lamp on and introduced himself: “Seconddecoder Dasherblar. Have a seat.”
    He pressed a buzzer. A young secretary brought two cups of coffee. Dasherblar sat opposite me and sipped Ms coffee without a word.
    “You’re to be briefed on the goal of your Mission?” he said at last.
    “Yes.”
    “H’m. Your Mission. It’s difficult, complicated … unusual too—I’m sorry, your name?”
    “Still the same,” I replied with a faint smile.
    The officer smiled in return. He had beautiful teeth; his whole face radiated sincerity and openness in that moment.
    “Cigarette?”
    “No thanks, I don’t smoke.”
    “Good, very good. It’s a bad habit, a very bad habit… Well, then… Excuse me a moment.”
    He got up, switched on the overhead lights, went to a huge metal safe and turned seven combination dials in succession. The massive steel plate slid noiselessly aside, and he began to look through a file of folders within.
    “Now, your instructions,” he said. But just then a buzzer sounded. He turned and looked at me. “Must be important. Could you wait? It’ll only take a minute.”
    Dasherblar went out, shutting the door quietly, leaving me alone with the open safe.
    Was this a test? How could they be so obvious about it, so transparent? I was annoyed. For a while I didn’t budge; then I happened to turn my head toward the safe. Immediately I looked away—but there was a mirror, and it showed all the contents of the safe, all the secret documents. I thought of counting the wooden panels in the parquet floor. But the floor here was linoleum. I inspected my knuckles. I was getting angry. Why shouldn’t I look where I pleased? So I looked: the folders were black, green, pink, a few were yellow and had saucer-like seals hanging from strings. One folder in particular, the one on top, was dog-eared. That was probably it. Anyway, the Chief of Staff himself gave me the Mission, if there was any trouble I could always mention his name—but wait, what was I thinking of?!
    I looked at my watch: ten minutes had passed. Complete silence. My chair became more uncomfortable with each passing minute. I crossed my legs—that was worse. I got up, straightened the crease in my trousers, sat down again. Even the desk on which I rested my elbow irritated me. I stretched. That took a minute. My stomach began to growl. I drank the rest of my coffee and contemplated the sugar at the bottom of the cup. I no longer dared even look at the open safe. Another glance at my watch: an hour had gone by.
    By the second hour I gave up all hope that the officer would return. Something must have happened. But what? Was he suddenly recalled, like Blanderdash? Or was it Dasherbland? No, Dashenblar. Dashenblade? For the life of me I couldn’t remember—my stomach growled too much. I got up and paced the floor. Almost three hours now, alone with an open safe full of secret documents—heads would roll, including my own! Oh, he fixed me, all right, that … whatever his name was! Suppose someone asked me who I was waiting for? I decided to leave. But which way? The way I came in? They would question me, and my story wouldn’t hold up—I could feel that. The judges would smile. “You mean to tell us that an officer whose name you can’t even