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Metamorphosis
Metamorphosis Franz Kafka
Translated by David Wyllie
I
One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found
himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his
armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his
brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections.
The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off
any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of
the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked.
"What's happened to me?" he thought. It wasn't a dream. His room, a
proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between
its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread
out on the table - Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it
there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated
magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted
out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur
muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer.
Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. Drops
of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite
sad. "How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this
nonsense", he thought, but that was something he was unable to do
because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state
couldn't get into that position. However hard he threw himself onto
his right, he always rolled back to where he was. He must have tried
it a hundred times, shut his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at
the floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild,
dull pain there that he had never felt before.
"Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that I've
chosen! Travelling day in and day out. Doing business like this takes
much more effort than doing your own business at home, and on top of
that there's the curse of travelling, worries about making train
connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all
the time so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly
with them. It can all go to Hell!" He felt a slight itch up on his
belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back towards the headboard so
that he could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and saw
that it was covered with lots of little white spots which he didn't
know what to make of; and when he tried to feel the place with one of
his legs he drew it quickly back because as soon as he touched it he
was overcome by a cold shudder.
He slid back into his former position. "Getting up early all the
time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. You've got to get enough
sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. For
instance, whenever I go back to the guest house during the morning to
copy out the contract, these gentlemen are always still sitting there
eating their breakfasts. I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd
get kicked out on the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the
best thing for me. If I didn't have my parents to think about I'd
have given in my notice a long time ago, I'd have gone up to the boss
and told him just what I think, tell him everything I would, let him
know just what I feel. He'd fall right off his desk! And it's a funny
sort of business to be sitting up there at your desk, talking down at
your subordinates from up there, especially when you have to go right
up close because the boss is hard of hearing. Well, there's still
some hope; once I've got the money together to pay off my parents'
debt to him - another five or six years I suppose - that's definitely
what I'll do. That's when I'll make the big change. First of all
though, I've got to get up, my train leaves at five."
And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the chest of
drawers. "God in Heaven!" he thought. It was half past six and the
hands were quietly moving forwards, it was even later than half past,
more like quarter to seven. Had the alarm clock not rung? He could
see from the bed that it had been set for four o'clock as it should
have been; it certainly must have rung. Yes, but was it possible to
quietly sleep through that furniture-rattling noise? True, he had not
slept peacefully, but probably all the more deeply because of that.
What should he do now? The next train went at seven; if he were to
catch that he would have to rush like mad and the collection of
samples was still not packed, and he did not at all feel particularly
fresh and lively. And even if he did catch the train he would not
avoid his boss's anger as the office assistant would have been there
to see the five o'clock train go, he would have put in his report
about Gregor's not being there a long time ago. The office assistant
was the boss's man, spineless, and with no understanding. What about
if he reported sick? But that would be extremely strained and
suspicious as in fifteen years of service Gregor had never once yet
been ill. His boss would certainly come round with the doctor from
the medical insurance company, accuse his parents of having a lazy
son, and accept the doctor's recommendation not to make any claim as
the doctor believed that no-one was ever ill but that many were
workshy. And what's more, would he have been entirely wrong in this
case? Gregor did in fact, apart from excessive sleepiness after
sleeping for so long, feel completely well and even felt much hungrier
than usual.
He was still hurriedly thinking all this through, unable to decide to
get out of the bed, when the clock struck quarter to seven. There was
a cautious knock at the door near his head. "Gregor", somebody called
- it was his mother - "it's quarter to seven. Didn't you want to go
somewhere?" That gentle voice! Gregor was shocked when he heard his
own voice answering, it could hardly be recognised as the voice he had
had before. As if from deep inside him, there was a painful and
uncontrollable squeaking mixed in with it, the words could be made out
at first but then there was a sort of echo which made them unclear,
leaving the hearer unsure whether he had heard properly or not.
Gregor had wanted to give a full answer and explain everything, but in
the circumstances contented himself with saying: "Yes, mother, yes,
thank-you, I'm getting up now." The change in Gregor's voice probably
could not be noticed outside through the wooden door, as his mother
was satisfied with this explanation and shuffled away. But this short
conversation made the other members of the family aware that Gregor,
against their expectations was still at home, and soon his father came
knocking at one of the side doors, gently, but with his fist. "Gregor,
Gregor", he called, "what's wrong?" And after a short while he called
again with a warning deepness in his voice: "Gregor! Gregor!" At the
other side door his sister came plaintively: "Gregor? Aren't you well?
Do you need anything?" Gregor answered to both sides: "I'm ready,
now", making an effort to remove all the strangeness from his voice by
enunciating very carefully and putting long pauses between each,
individual word. His father went back to his breakfast, but his
sister whispered: "Gregor, open the door, I beg of you." Gregor,
however, had no thought of opening the door, and instead congratulated
himself for his cautious habit, acquired from his travelling, of
locking all doors at night even when he was at home.
The first thing he wanted to do was to get up in peace without being
disturbed, to get dressed, and most of all to have his breakfast. Only
then would he consider what to do next, as he was well aware that he
would not bring his thoughts to any sensible conclusions by lying in
bed. He remembered that he had often felt a slight pain in bed,
perhaps caused by lying awkwardly, but that had always turned out to
be pure imagination and he wondered how his imaginings would slowly
resolve themselves today. He did not have the slightest doubt that
the change in his voice was nothing more than the first sign of a
serious cold, which was an occupational hazard for travelling
salesmen.
It was a simple matter to throw off the covers; he only had to blow
himself up a little and they fell off by themselves. But it became
difficult after that, especially as he was so exceptionally broad. He
would have used his arms and his hands to push himself up; but instead
of them he only had all those little legs continuously moving in
different directions, and which he was moreover unable to control. If
he wanted to bend one of them, then that was the first one that would
stretch itself out; and if he finally managed to do what he wanted
with that leg, all the others seemed to be set free and would move
about painfully. "This is something that can't be done in bed",
Gregor said to himself, "so don't keep trying to do it".
The first thing he wanted to do was get the lower part of his body out
of the bed, but he had never seen this lower part, and could not
imagine what it looked like; it turned out to be too hard to move; it
went so slowly; and finally, almost in a frenzy, when he carelessly
shoved himself forwards with all the force he could gather, he chose
the wrong direction, hit hard against the lower bedpost, and learned
from the burning pain he felt that the lower part of his body might
well, at present, be the most sensitive.
So then he tried to get the top part of his body out of the bed first,
carefully turning his head to the side. This he managed quite easily,
and despite its breadth and its weight, the bulk of his body
eventually followed slowly in the direction of the head. But when he
had at last got his head out of the bed and into the fresh air it
occurred to him that if he let himself fall it would be a miracle if
his head were not injured, so he became afraid to carry on pushing
himself forward the same way. And he could not knock himself out now
at any price; better to stay in bed than lose consciousness.
It took just as much effort to get back to where he had been earlier,
but when he lay there sighing, and was once more watching his legs as
they struggled against each other even harder than before, if that was
possible, he could think of no way of bringing peace and order to this
chaos. He told himself once more that it was not possible for him to
stay in bed and that the most sensible thing to do would be to get
free of it in whatever way he could at whatever sacrifice. At the
same time, though, he did not forget to remind himself that calm
consideration was much better than rushing to desperate conclusions.
At times like this he would direct his eyes to the window and look out
as clearly as he could, but unfortunately, even the other side of the
narrow street was enveloped in morning fog and the view had little
confidence or cheer to offer him. "Seven o'clock, already", he said
to himself when the clock struck again, "seven o'clock, and there's
still a fog like this." And he lay there quietly a while longer,
breathing lightly as if he perhaps expected the total stillness to
bring things back to their real and natural state.
But then he said to himself: "Before it strikes quarter past seven
I'll definitely have to have got properly out of bed. And by then
somebody will have come round from work to ask what's happened to me
as well, as they open up at work before seven o'clock." And so he set
himself to the task of swinging the entire length of his body out of
the bed all at the same time. If he succeeded in falling out of bed
in this way and kept his head raised as he did so he could probably
avoid injuring it. His back seemed to be quite hard, and probably
nothing would happen to it falling onto the carpet. His main concern
was for the loud noise he was bound to make, and which even through
all the doors would probably raise concern if not alarm. But it was
something that had to be risked.
When Gregor was already sticking half way out of the bed - the new
method was more of a game than an effort, all he had to do was rock
back and forth - it occurred to him how simple everything would be if
somebody came to help him. Two strong people - he had his father and
the maid in mind - would have been more than enough; they would only
have to push their arms under the dome of his back, peel him away from
the bed, bend down with the load and then be patient and careful as he
swang over onto the floor, where, hopefully, the little legs would
find a use. Should he really call for help though, even apart from
the fact that all the doors were locked? Despite all the difficulty he
was in, he could not suppress a smile at this thought.
After a while he had already moved so far across that it would have
been hard for him to keep his balance if he rocked too hard. The time
was now ten past seven and he would have to make a final decision very
soon. Then there was a ring at the door of the flat. "That'll be
someone from work", he said to himself, and froze very still, although
his little legs only became all the more lively as they danced around.
For a moment everything remained quiet. "They're not opening the
door", Gregor said to himself, caught in some nonsensical hope. But
then of course, the maid's firm steps went to the door as ever and
opened it. Gregor only needed to hear the visitor's first words of
greeting and he knew who it was - the chief clerk himself. Why did
Gregor have to be the only one condemned to work for a company where
they immediately became highly suspicious at the slightest
shortcoming? Were all employees, every one of them, louts, was there
not one of them who was faithful and devoted who would go so mad with
pangs of conscience that he couldn't get out of bed if he didn't spend
at least a couple of hours in the morning on company business? Was it
really not enough to let one of the trainees make enquiries - assuming
enquiries were even necessary - did the chief clerk have to come
himself, and did they have to show the whole, innocent family that
this was so suspicious that only the chief clerk could be trusted to
have the wisdom to investigate it? And more because these thoughts had
made him upset than through any proper decision, he swang himself with
all his force out of the bed. There was a loud thump, but it wasn't
really a loud noise. His fall was softened a little by the carpet,
and Gregor's back was also more elastic than he had thought, which
made the sound muffled and not too noticeable. He had not held his
head carefully enough, though, and hit it as he fell; annoyed and in
pain, he turned it and rubbed it against the carpet.
"Something's fallen down in there", said the chief clerk in the room
on the left. Gregor tried to imagine whether something of the sort
that had happened to him today could ever happen to the chief clerk
too; you had to concede that it was possible. But as if in gruff
reply to this question, the chief clerk's firm footsteps in his highly
polished boots could now be heard in the adjoining room. From the room
on his right, Gregor's sister whispered to him to let him know:
"Gregor, the chief clerk is here." "Yes, I know", said Gregor to
himself; but without daring to raise his voice loud enough for his
sister to hear him.