Free The Architect by Brendan Connell Page A

must do what you think fit.”
    “Indeed he must,” was Nesler’s comment as he bobbed his head deferentially.
    The next day the young and voluble man from India, he who had compared his sojourn in Switzerland disadvantageously to life in the streets of Calcutta, was busy smoothing the side of a giant block of marble. Nachtman, carrying in one hand a rattan cane, approached him.
    “You have been refractory.”
    The other looked somewhat confused.
    “I am not sure that I understand…”
    “You have been belittling the community and disturbing their composure with your pusillanimous complaints.”
    “I am sorry about it.”
    “I am glad to hear that, my friend. But now, if you would be so kind as to step over here and touch your toes.”
    “My toes?”
    “Touch them.”
    The man did as he was told.
    The architect, majestically holding his head high, violently applied the stick to the other man’s slim buttocks twelve times. With each stroke the poor fellow let out a painful cry. Afterwards, he was allowed to return to his work, which he went about with much vehemence.
    Throughout the rest of the day the teams worked on in nervous silence, going about their business obediently, with heads hung low. Many felt inner joy at being part of something so great. Some felt fear and pressed their lips tightly together. Unfortunately however, this was not the last disciplinary incident. Nachtman had his eye on several who he considered to be trouble-makers and infractions were not tolerated. Behaviour modifications were doled out to those who did not conform one-hundred percent to the requirements of the Society. These punishments were referred to as purges and were said to expel the demon of softness. Some were made to wear sackcloth and others, the more refractory, were smeared with honey and exposed to flies and wasps. Those who were caught uttering unflattering comments regarding either the project or the Society were made to wear branks—a bridle with a sharp iron to restrain the tongue. There were whippings and humiliations, cries which tore the calm of the mountain and tears of repentance.
    And though in truth there were very few who had not consigned themselves body and soul to the project and fewer still who openly complained, the punishments gradually grew more severe. It being the nature of our species to be ever searching for new sensations, unlike bees who are satisfied with the dust of flowers, it came to pass that simple floggings no longer sufficed and the penalties became not so much a matter of discipline as being a demonstration of Nachtman’s authority—a sacrifice to that man and to the great structure he was building, a thing which seemed to grow larger with every drop of blood spilt, a fungus that seemed to flourish in conditions of human suffering.
    One day a young Spaniard was found asleep high up on a wall during working hours. It seemed probable that he had fallen asleep involuntarily, but the architect was still merciless.
    “Shall we whip him?” Maria asked.
    “No,” was Nachtman’s reply. “His crime is too severe for that. Cut off his leg.”
    And as it was said so it was done, the architect showing no particular signs of pleasure while meting out this chastisement, but also not showing the least repugnance.

XXI.
     
    Mr. Daniel Nesler directed two organisations, the Körn Business Association (KBA), and the Association for Responsible Living (ARL), and with these was in charge of vast resources, gleaned from multiple sources—from investments to charity. From a unique line of herbal and homeopathic products to an arms manufacturer in Zürich—for the KBA was composed of 43 medium-sized businesses, all with their tax bases in Liechtenstein, which generated considerable wealth, while the ARL, though not involved in commerce, was still a formidable financial institution, as it took donations under a vast variety of headings. There were programs for feeding the hungry in Africa and for