I certainly applauded, there's no doubt about that. But everyone did! Even the guy who insisted so strongly that he didn't. He'd probably be just as ready to deny the existence of Christ, Chresos... well, well... Yes, that's exactly who I'm talking about—Christ. I've even read a little about him. Especially after work, in the few hours I have left to live freely. I came to see the priest, I don't know why. Apparently, that's a requirement of the new times, the New Faith and Form, although yours has apparently existed much longer than mine. But that's not the point... No! No, I came to argue with the priest, to argue about such trivial matters, well... I know, I know, it's not trivial matters, but this... what's-her-name... "revealed truth," if I remember correctly, or something like that... Get to the point. I want to confess. What do you mean, why? Because it's the right thing to do, I told the priest. Well, yes, I have good intentions... Yes, I regret what I did. And what did I do? I did what everyone else did. I don't remember what exactly. Yes, I was a member of that organization—as was half of our society, by the way. What's so strange about that? What are you looking at? Just a few years ago, you wouldn't have dared to look at me like that, to say such words. Yes, such words. Only Father Popiełuszko dared. Besides, it was very stupid. Principles? Values? Of course, I had them, and I still do; just different ones. Nothing more. I have the ones you have to have. Do I believe? I believe in what allows me to survive. In what prolongs my existence. Will Christ help me? Of course, I'll be able to continue living after death. It's a power like any other, only even less visible than my bosses. No, I didn't go to Mass. Of course, I celebrated the Holy Day! Whenever I had a day off, I went to the countryside with my wife and kids, to see my parents. They were overjoyed. Sorry, maybe that's not a very happy phrase. Easter? And when is that? So, when does spring begin, on March 21st...? No!? I don't know. What, Father, do you want my papers!? Where am I supposed to get my baptismal certificate!!! Okay, I'm calming down now. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... and back again. I feel better now. So why did I come? I already told you how many more times I have to repeat myself? I want to speak out, tell the priest my sins, so that you can forgive me, because I can't do it myself. And that's necessary for the New, afterlife, isn't it? Exactly! That's all I want. Nothing more; I have no particular requirements in these matters. So... Well, Father, you already know where I worked. No, it wasn't easy. Now they look at me like a bandit. But I didn't work for the Steadfast, I wasn't an executioner, I didn't murder people! Yes, of course. That's easy to say. Everything was simple there – official orders are sacred. Not as important as here, but just as important – even more so back then. Of course I was afraid. What wasn't there to be afraid of? If you heard so much screaming, you would also be afraid, forever, out of sheer fear. Out of sheer fear that the real Fear would appear. The oneIn the face of which you could lose your life. How? A heart attack, of course. Ironically, I smoked cigarette after cigarette, and that habit stuck with me. Back in the day, people didn't talk about it, but now every pack screams, "smoking causes cancer and heart disease." So a heart attack, probably, too. However, I never went through that experience. Somehow, I didn't have that dubious opportunity. It really was a job like any other. The only thing that was arduous was the commute. Every time I walked down Kochanowskiego Street, I felt like I was about to fall and break my neck. That I'd fall flat on my face, straight ahead, and hit the pavement with my entire weight. Even in winter, when it was slippery, that never happened to me. Apparently, God wanted it that way, right? Exactly. And at work, as always. Paperwork, paperwork, driving around town, packing up those wet leaflets, auditions, interviews. My legs hurt terribly during those auditions. Sitting like that for hours, grinding your tongue, is incredibly tiring for your legs and your mind. After a whole day, you have no energy left for anything. Them? What "they"? The ones who were interrogated? It varied. They stood at attention, sat, fidgeted as if trying to break through to a lower level, where we couldn't reach them. They wanted it themselves. Someone had to maintain order. What particularly sticks in my mind? Just two things – the stench around the cells and the disgusting taste of the official coffee. Hand on heart, it tasted like nothing else. There's no horror I could name. And then there were those animalistic screams that interrupted the moments of savoring this horror. Can you imagine that, priest? With strained eyes, you sipped the mud from your cup, surrounded by a single, piercing resonance of damning sounds. Pure horror. Over time, I became accustomed to those tiny trickles of blood in the corridors, which the cleaning ladies removed with particular care and precision. Only for a short time, though, as new traces appeared constantly. I became accustomed to those lowered heads, clearly contemptuous of all of us and the lack of contact. Never a cup of coffee. I felt hounded, besieged by all those reactionaries, who were more and more numerous every day, more than us, the workers. I was terribly afraid for my life; I knew these people were capable of jumping out of their skin and tearing my heart out of my chest in the blink of an eye, if only it would help them. They were so wild, so unpredictable, I'd even say evil. Yes, they were definitely evil people who had strayed far from God. We had to tame them a bit, because if those anarchists had gained power, who knows what would have happened? What would have happened to the churches? The priest looked at me as if he didn't know. I'll tell you, Father – it would be a mess! I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't say that. But the thought of letting these people go free really upsets me. We couldn't do it! It was our official responsibility,But also a historic mission – to protect the nation from its enemies. And I think we fulfilled it quite well. Of course, I contributed minimally. I can't claim credit for these achievements, although a tiny contribution to the new order, "Solidarity," and the Third Polish Republic was also mine. It was I and my colleagues who laid the foundation, which was then plowed over by new, better oppositionists and those like you. Poland is growing anew, I hope better. Why didn't I mention what? What "crimes"? What "murders"? Should I say I was happy when the basements on Kochanowskiego Street changed color? When the bricks reached the maximum intensity of red, deeper than you can imagine? Yes, I was happy! Like a child! And I don't regret it, because I knew things were getting better, that we would lead the country out of collapse. It was clear that the helm of power would not remain in our hands, that we would have to hand it over, but we knew that before handing over the helm, we had to clean the ship. Clear the deck of garbage, enemies of the people, people who yearned for the impossible. Their archaic notion of order that collapsed on the day of war. There was no going back to those places! Returning there would be suicide, a collapse in on ourselves, a spiritual implosion, searching for our own tail to bite. We couldn't let that happen, and we didn't. I know we succeeded. I know we left the ground already formed, and in good hands. The priest has a look on his face as if he didn't understand a thing... Ha, ha, ha... No, this isn't the ramblings of a torturer. I know what I'm saying. And I know I have to regret it. I apologize for every document I signed, the contents of which I didn't understand. For every gesture and look that could have been accusatory towards someone. For every smile that could have caused pain to others. It's funny, but I also apologize for being overzealous at work. What else... For those times I personally hurt someone, though I don't remember such moments; maybe it happened once, but I don't recall anything specific. I apologize for the slanders my tongue hurled at people I didn't know and didn't try to get to know. What more can I say... I feel lighter. I feel like a stone has lifted from my heart and from these legs, which have been ailing for many years. I've had enough; I can only sigh over what didn't happen but should have. Father, don't accuse me. It's no one's business. Neither mine nor the priest's. Well, that's all. I don't remember any more sins. I ask for rehabilitation and absolution.Why didn't I say what? What "crimes"? What "murders"? Should I say I rejoiced as the cellars on Kochanowskiego Street changed color? As the bricks reached their maximum intensity of red, deeper than a priest could imagine? Yes, I rejoiced! Like a child! And I don't regret it, because I knew things were getting better, that we would lead the country out of collapse. It was clear that the reins of power wouldn't remain in our hands, that we would have to hand them over, but we knew that before handing over the helm, we had to clean the ship. Clear the deck of garbage, enemies of the people, people who craved the impossible. Their archaic notion of order that had collapsed on the day of war. There was no going back to those places! Returning there would be suicide, a collapse in on ourselves, a spiritual implosion, searching for our own tail to bite. We couldn't let that happen, and we didn't. I know we succeeded. I know we left the ground already formed, and in good hands. The priest looks as if he doesn't understand a thing... Ha, ha, ha... No, this isn't the ramblings of a torturer. I know what I'm saying. And I know I have to regret it. I apologize for every document I signed that I didn't understand. For every gesture and look that could have been accusatory towards someone. For every smile that could have caused others pain. It's ridiculous, but I also apologize for being overzealous at work. What else... For those times I personally hurt someone, although I don't remember such moments; maybe there was one, but I don't recall anything specific. I apologize for the slanders my tongue hurled at people I didn't know and didn't try to get to know. What more can I say... I feel lighter. I feel like a weight has lifted from my heart and from these legs, which have been ailing for years. I've had enough; I can only sigh over what didn't happen but should have. Don't accuse me, Father. It's no one's business. Neither mine nor yours. Well, that's all. I remember no other sins. I ask for rehabilitation and absolution.Why didn't I say what? What "crimes"? What "murders"? Should I say I rejoiced as the cellars on Kochanowskiego Street changed color? As the bricks reached their maximum intensity of red, deeper than a priest could imagine? Yes, I rejoiced! Like a child! And I don't regret it, because I knew things were getting better, that we would lead the country out of collapse. It was clear that the reins of power wouldn't remain in our hands, that we would have to hand them over, but we knew that before handing over the helm, we had to clean the ship. Clear the deck of garbage, enemies of the people, people who craved the impossible. Their archaic notion of order that had collapsed on the day of war. There was no going back to those places! Returning there would be suicide, a collapse in on ourselves, a spiritual implosion, searching for our own tail to bite. We couldn't let that happen, and we didn't. I know we succeeded. I know we left the ground already formed, and in good hands. The priest looks as if he doesn't understand a thing... Ha, ha, ha... No, this isn't the ramblings of a torturer. I know what I'm saying. And I know I have to regret it. I apologize for every document I signed that I didn't understand. For every gesture and look that could have been accusatory towards someone. For every smile that could have caused others pain. It's ridiculous, but I also apologize for being overzealous at work. What else... For those times I personally hurt someone, although I don't remember such moments; maybe there was one, but I don't recall anything specific. I apologize for the slanders my tongue hurled at people I didn't know and didn't try to get to know. What more can I say... I feel lighter. I feel like a weight has lifted from my heart and from these legs, which have been ailing for years. I've had enough; I can only sigh over what didn't happen but should have. Don't accuse me, Father. It's no one's business. Neither mine nor yours. Well, that's all. I remember no other sins. I ask for rehabilitation and absolution.That we left the ground already formed, and in good hands. The priest has a look on his face as if he didn't understand a thing... Ha, ha, ha... No, this isn't the ramblings of a torturer. I know what I'm saying. And I know I have to regret it. I apologize for every document I signed that I didn't understand. For every gesture and look that could have been accusatory towards someone. For every smile that could have caused others pain. It's ridiculous, but I also apologize for being overzealous at work. What else... For those moments when I personally hurt someone, although I don't remember such moments; maybe there was one, but I don't recall anything specific. I apologize for the slanders my tongue hurled at people I didn't know and didn't try to get to know. What more can I say... I feel lighter. I feel like a weight has lifted from my heart and from these legs, which have been ailing for many years. I've had enough; I can only sigh over what didn't happen, but what should have happened. Father, don't accuse me. It's no one's business. Neither mine nor the priest's. Well, that's it. I don't remember any more sins. I ask for rehabilitation and absolution.That we left the ground already formed, and in good hands. The priest has a look on his face as if he didn't understand a thing... Ha, ha, ha... No, this isn't the ramblings of a torturer. I know what I'm saying. And I know I have to regret it. I apologize for every document I signed that I didn't understand. For every gesture and look that could have been accusatory towards someone. For every smile that could have caused others pain. It's ridiculous, but I also apologize for being overzealous at work. What else... For those moments when I personally hurt someone, although I don't remember such moments; maybe there was one, but I don't recall anything specific. I apologize for the slanders my tongue hurled at people I didn't know and didn't try to get to know. What more can I say... I feel lighter. I feel like a weight has lifted from my heart and from these legs, which have been ailing for many years. I've had enough; I can only sigh over what didn't happen, but what should have happened. Father, don't accuse me. It's no one's business. Neither mine nor the priest's. Well, that's it. I don't remember any more sins. I ask for rehabilitation and absolution.
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