7th June San Quentin, California Through the toughened glass he sees them change shifts. Both guards check their wrist watches then, in sync, turn their heads towards his cell. What a pair of morons. They don't have an atom of individuality between them.
It's exactly midnight.
The first second of the new day ticks away. The sixth day of the sixth month. Execution Day. His last day on earth.
A time to turn most prisoners' bowels to water.
But not Bale's.
Lars Bale's bowels are just fine and dandy. In fact, he looks a picture of perfect health as he stands in his regulation grey shorts in the middle of his cell, his skin showered in a never-dimmed light that's the colour of mustard gas.
He smiles at the guard clocking off, going home to his undoubtedly inadequate wife sitting up and reading in bed. Waiting for him. He'll tell her about the difficulties of his dull day and then try to be nonchalant as he mentions the most famous moment of his uneventful life – running the Lars Bale death watch on the evening before his execution. He'll tell the story time and time again: in cheap, eat-all-you-can diners, boring family reunions and out-of-town bars. He'll tell it to buddies and complete strangers – and each time the story will get juicier and juicier.
Arms extended, Bale stretches and feels energy flowing from deep within.
His time is coming.
He can see and feel a protective aura growing around him. It is violet – changing to white – and then gold. The colours of his divine mind. The colour of his pathway to immortality and his rightful place alongside his father.
Outside his cell it is clear that they have been busying themselves.
Restricted Access signs have been posted. Keys to the wing have no doubt been drawn.
Logs signed. Boy, do they love their paperwork. Soon the lethal-injection team will leave their homes after an uncomfortable night with family. They'll drive to work in their old cars, listening to the radio, one hand on the wheel, window rolled down, thinking about the life they have to take and how they're going to live with that. Easy for some. More difficult for others. They'll eventually gather together and sit stony-faced and solemn in an assembly room while they get their final briefing from the governor and deputy governor. Then they'll all be sworn in like good little scouts and will go away honour-bound to carry out their constitutional duty – to kill him.
Some will enjoy it. Some will be haunted by it.
He'll make sure none of them will ever forget it.
The poor souls – they have no idea what they're letting themselves in for. No clue just how historic a day today is going to be.