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running off the press； while the august senators were wining and
dining； we three of the living dead； buried alive in solidarity；
were sweating our pain in the canvas torture。
And after the dinner； warm with wine； Warden Atherton himself came
to see how fared it with us。 Me； as usual； they found in coma。
Doctor Jackson for the first time must have been alarmed。 I was
brought back across the dark to consciousness with the bite of
ammonia in my nostrils。 I smiled into the faces bent over me。
〃Shamming；〃 snorted the Warden； and I knew by the flush on his face
and the thickness in his tongue that he had been drinking。
I licked my lips as a sign for water； for I desired to speak。
〃You are an ass；〃 I at last managed to say with cold distinctness。
〃You are an ass； a coward； a cur； a pitiful thing so low that
spittle would be wasted on your face。 In such matter Jake
Oppenheimer is over…generous with you。 As for me； without shame I
tell you the only reason I do not spit upon you is that I cannot
demean myself nor so degrade my spittle。〃
〃I've reached the limit of my patience！〃 he bellowed。 〃I will kill
you； Standing！〃
〃You've been drinking；〃 I retorted。 〃And I would advise you； if you
must say such things； not to take so many of your prison curs into
your confidence。 They will snitch on you some day； and you will
lose your job。〃
But the wine was up and master of him。
〃Put another jacket on him；〃 he commanded。 〃You are a dead man；
Standing。 But you'll not die in the jacket。 We'll bury you from
the hospital。〃
This time； over the previous jacket； the second jacket was put on
from behind and laced up in front。
〃Lord； Lord； Warden； it is bitter weather；〃 I sneered。 〃The frost
is sharp。 Wherefore I am indeed grateful for your giving me two
jackets。 I shall be almost comfortable。〃
〃Tighter！〃 he urged to Al Hutchins； who was drawing the lacing。
〃Throw your feet into the skunk。 Break his ribs。〃
I must admit that Hutchins did his best。
〃You WILL lie about me；〃 the Warden raved； the flush of wine and
wrath flooding ruddier into his face。 〃Now see what you get for it。
Your number is taken at last； Standing。 This is your finish。 Do
you hear？ This is your finish。〃
〃A favour； Warden；〃 I whispered faintly。 Faint I was。 Perforce I
was nearly unconscious from the fearful constriction。 〃Make it a
triple jacketing；〃 I managed to continue； while the cell walls
swayed and reeled about me and while I fought with all my will to
hold to my consciousness that was being squeezed out of me by the
jackets。 〃Another jacket 。 。 。 Warden 。 。 。 It 。 。 。 will 。 。 。 be
。 。 。 so 。 。 。 much 。 。 。 er 。 。 。 warmer。〃
And my whisper faded away as I ebbed down into the little death。
I was never the same man after that double…jacketing。 Never again；
to this day； no matter what my food； was I properly nurtured。 I
suffered internal injuries to an extent I never cared to
investigate。 The old pain in my ribs and stomach is with me now as
I write these lines。 But the poor； maltreated machinery has served
its purpose。 It has enabled me to live thus far； and it will enable
me to live the little longer to the day they take me out in the
shirt without a collar and stretch my neck with the well…stretched
rope。
But the double…jacketing was the last straw。 It broke down Warden
Atherton。 He surrendered to the demonstration that I was
unkillable。 As I told him once：
〃The only way you can get me； Warden； is to sneak in here some night
with a hatchet。〃
Jake Oppenheimer was responsible for a good one on the Warden which
I must relate：
〃I say； Warden； it must be straight hell for you to have to wake up
every morning with yourself on your pillow。〃
And Ed Morrell to the Warden：
〃Your mother must have been damn fond of children to have raised
you。〃
It was really an offence to me when the jacketing ceased。 I sadly
missed that dream world of mine。 But not for long。 I found that I
could suspend animation by the exercise of my will； aided
mechanically by constricting my chest and abdomen with the blanket。
Thus I induced physiological and psychological states similar to
those caused by the jacket。 So； at will； and without the old
torment； I was free to roam through time。
Ed Morrell believed all my adventures； but Jake Oppenheimer remained
sceptical to the last。 It was during my third year in solitary that
I paid Oppenheimer a visit。 I was never able to do it but that
once； and that one time was wholly unplanned and unexpected。
It was merely after unconsciousness had come to me that I found
myself in his cell。 My body； I knew； lay in the jacket back in my
own cell。 Although never before had I seen him； I knew that this
man was Jake Oppenheimer。 It was summer weather； and he lay without
clothes on top his blanket。 I was shocked by his cadaverous face
and skeleton…like body。 He was not even the shell of a man。 He was
merely the structure of a man； the bones of a man； still cohering；
stripped practically of all flesh and covered with a parchment…like
skin。
Not until back in my own cell and consciousness was I able to mull
the thing over and realize that just as was Jake Oppenheimer； so was
Ed Morrell； so was I。 And I could not but thrill as I glimpsed the
vastitude of spirit that inhabited these frail； perishing carcasses
of usthe three incorrigibles of solitary。 Flesh is a cheap； vain
thing。 Grass is flesh； and flesh becomes grass； but the spirit is
the thing that abides and survives。 I have no patience with these
flesh…worshippers。 A taste of solitary in San Quentin would swiftly
convert them to a due appreciation and worship of the spirit。
But to return to my experience m Oppenheimer's cell。 His body was
that of a man long dead and shrivelled by desert heat。 The skin
that covered it was of the colour of dry mud。 His sharp； yellow…
gray eyes seemed the only part of him that was alive。 They were
never at rest。 He lay on his back； and the eyes darted hither and
thither； following the flight of the several flies that disported in
the gloomy air above him。 I noted； too； a scar； just above his
right elbow； and another scar on his right ankle。
After a time he yawned； rolled over on his side； and inspected an
angry…looking sore just above his hip。 This he proceeded to cleanse
and dress by the crude methods men in solitary must employ。 I
recognized the sore as one of the sort caused by the strait…jacket。
On my body； at this moment of writing； are hundreds of scars of the
jacket。
Next； Oppenheimer rolled on his back； gingerly took one of his front
upper toothan eye teethbetween thumb and forefinger； and
consideratively moved it back and forth。 Again he yawned； stretched
his arms； rolled over； and knocked the call to Ed Morrell。
I read the code as a matter of course。
〃Thought you might be awake；〃 Opp