Files

Dr. Ziegler was irritated. He skimmed through his reports, messily tossing papers to the left when they weren't related to the things he was searching for. He was sure that he'd filed a report on subject 11 but he couldn't find it. Werner knocked and entered the room. The doctor looked up at him. "Kommen Sie später zurück, Werner. (Come back later, Werner). I don't have time now." He snapped. Werner just nodded and slipped back out. He quietly closed the door behind him. 

Having no clue what to do now that he wasn't needed by the doctor yet he sat down on one of the chairs in the hallway. He would have rather taken a walk, to wake himself up a little and get some fresh air. He hated hospitals even though he'd gotten used to them. But if he was caught strolling outside during working hours he'd be admonished or possibly even punished. If some official walked through the hallway and asked him what he was doing he could answer honestly; he was waiting to be called in by Dr. Ziegler. 

Werner's mind wandered to Marie. In a few weeks the deadline would be up and he'd be able to call her. Werner wasn't sure what he'd tell her, he was sure that the phone calls were tapped so he couldn't tell her how horrid he found the KZ. But he'd be able to listen to what she had to say; about how it had been at her grandfathers...her plans for Christmas which was coming round soon enough. He tried to imagine what she might be doing, was she escorting her grandfather up the stairs or making him tea? He smiled a little; denkt sie fleissig an mich? (Does she think of me often/ diligently)? 

As Werner waited to be called in, thinking about Marie, Dr. Ziegler became more and more agitated with his work. He'd found the file for subject 11 but he couldn't find one of the papers he'd included in the folder. He'd written his observations and the questions they'd roused in him on it. Subject 11 had died from the not-yet-perfected Vaccine that he'd received. But Ziegler couldn't remember which symptoms he'd shown prior to his death...he'd jotted down a question about two chemical substances they'd put into the vaccine, and he wanted (to his disgust and embarrasement) to ask Wojciechowski about them. The polish doctor was a bit of a celebrity among the doctors in europe. He was known to see the greater picture, to not lose himself in the small details. Dr. Ziegler was sure that the problem with the vaccine was the way the single componants worked together and not the componants themselves. 

He reached for the glass of water he always had stationed on his desk, he was angry and thirsty so a headache had formed behind his forehead, throbbing against his skull. And then he saw it; there it was! A single piece of paper in the far-right corner of the room. He stood up, forgetting his thirst and crossed the room to the paper. It must have flown off his desk when he'd aired out the office, he thoguht. Sometimes there was a slight breeze and that could have been more than enough to get a single piece of paper to drift off the desk and onto the ground. He picked it up off the ground and took it back to his desk. There it was, the question he'd scribbled down.

"Werner!" He called. "Sie können kommen! (You can come in now!)" He'd hardly finished the sentence when the door opened and Werner entered. "Guten Morgen, Werner." 

"Morgen Dr. Ziegler." 

"I'm going to go to the lab, could you organize these papers for me? They're to be sorted alphabetically. I always write the titel and a letter at the top of the file, first sort with the letter and then the titel. Alright?"

"Ja, Herr Dr. Ziegler." 

"I'll be back in a jiffy." Dr. Ziegler reassured his assistant. "And you're not to open the files, they're strictly confidential." 

"Of course." Werner replied. He was true to his word. He didn't peek into any folder. Sometimes when he recalled the time he'd spent in Auschwitz he wondered if he should have taken a look. Maybe he would have found something, maybe he could have changed more than he did...but that was in the past anyway. The present doesn't belong in the past...but then again, as he sorted the files the name of one of them popped into his eye...

Dr. Ziegler hurried to the cell that he kept Wojciechowski in. He'd requested his 'patient' have his own room, he didn't want Wojciechowski to be bashed by some unknowing guard or fall ill. Werner had no idea that his superior was headed to Wojciechowski. If he had known he might have asked to come with. If he was going to get Wojciechowski out of Auschwitz he'd need to know everything about where he was. 

Wojciechowski. The file on Wojciechowski. Werner looked up. Dr. Ziegler had left the door to his office open. Scheiss drauf (fuck it). Werner opened the folder. He'd expected anything from former experiments, to medical files or ideas jotted down in a doctors chicken-scratch. Never in a million years would he have expected what he actually found...