Samuel Johnson Is Indignant by Lydia Davis Read Free Book Online

uplift, or rehabilitation. Also, we weren’t doing anything, we weren’t even waiting for a train, or for an appointment. Actually, we were waiting, but we didn’t know what we were waiting for, we didn’t know what to expect. So there was this sort of blank wall ahead of us.
    Q.
    A. A blank wall ahead of us where the rest of the day would normally be, where you could normally see more or less what was coming next.
    Q.
    A. Yes, but they didn’t explain much, and no one dared to ask.
    Q.
    A. It wasn’t emotional. Going to church would be emotional. Going to an AA meeting or even a concert would be emotional. This was the most unemotional thing you could imagine. Maybe that’s why it was such a relief.
    Q.
    A. After all that awful quarreling the night before. It was like some sort of therapy, some sort of treatment. A prescription. As though after such quarreling I was required by law to report to a place where I had to sit very still with other people who were sitting very still, and we would all be treated very kindly and gently until we were completely well again.
    Q.
    A. Not the way we do. Not like our family. It scares me. It scares the pets. God knows what it’s doing to my younger boy.
    Q.
    A. Yes, we had no choice. We couldn’t avoid it. By law, we had to be there. So there was no possibility of conflict—should I be here, should I not be here? And they didn’t want us in particular—it wasn’t in the least personal, it was random, we had been called randomly. And we weren’t here because we had done anything wrong. We were innocent. In fact we were more than innocent. We were good. We were good citizens, good enough to be asked to judge other citizens. The law was saying that we were good. Maybe that’s another reason it felt so deeply soothing. It was not emotional, it was not personal, and yet there was this feeling of approval. The law thinks you’re a good person, or at least good enough.
    Q.
    A. Yes, they checked us for weapons down at the side entrance where we came in. They didn’t use the old front entrance anymore. We went in through some modern, ugly side doors and down some steps below street level, then we went up to the second floor in an elevator.
    Q.
    A. There was a metal detector and a guard who looked into our bags and purses. He was very kind and gentle, too. He smiled in a kind way. The sign said something like, “No weapons beyond this point.” So it was as though symbolically, too, we were supposed to leave behind anything we could fight with. We were not going in there to fight. Anyone who entered through the metal detector and went beyond it was not dangerous, almost by definition.
    Q.
    A. Yes, as though we were in suspension, everything in our lives suspended, waiting. We were waiting.
    Q.
    A. Yes, I though of the word patient. But it wasn’t that. Patience is something you need in a strained situation, a situation in which you have to put up with something uncomfortable or difficult. This wasn’t difficult. That’s what I’m trying to say: we had to be there, and so it relieved us of all personal responsibility. I don’t think there is anything else quite like it. Then you have to add onto that the spaciousness of the room. Imagine if it had been a small, crowded room with a low ceiling. Or if people had been noisy, talkative. Or if the people in charge had been confused, or rude.
    Q.
    A. Finally. The woman had a drum with all our names in it. She turned the drum and then picked names out of the drum one at a time to go up and sit in the jury box and be interviewed. This was going to be the interesting part—that’s what I was thinking.
    Q.
    A. No, we all had to stay there. All the rest of us had to stay there in case the ones being questioned were disqualified or excused. Since it was random, any one of us might be called up to replace them, so we all had to stay.
    Q.
    A. Again, very gently,