Metamorphosis and Other Stories Page 9

  His immediate intention was to get up calmly and leisurely, to get dressed and, above all, to have breakfast before deciding what to do next, because he was quite convinced he wouldn’t arrive at any sensible conclusions as long as he remained in bed. There were many times, he remembered, when he had lain in bed with a sense of some dim pain somewhere in his body, perhaps from lying awkwardly, which then turned out, as he got up, to be mere imagining, and he looked forward to his present fanciful state gradually falling from him. He had not the least doubt that the alteration in his voice was just the first sign of a head-cold, always an occupational malady with travelling salesmen.

  Casting off the blanket proved to be straightforward indeed; all he needed to do was to inflate himself a little, and it fell off by itself. But further tasks were more problematical, not least because of his great breadth. He would have needed arms and hands with which to get up; instead of which all he had were those numerous little legs, forever in varied movement, and evidently not under his control. If he wanted to bend one of them, then it was certain that that was the one that was next fully extended; and once he finally succeeded in performing whatever task he had set himself with that leg, then all its neglected fellows would be in a turmoil of painful agitation. ‘Whatever I do, I mustn’t loaf around in bed,’ Gregor said to himself.

  At first he thought he would get out of bed bottom half first, but this bottom half of himself, which he had yet to see, and as to whose specifications he was perfectly ignorant, turned out to be not very manoeuvrable; progress was slow; and when at last, almost in fury, he pushed down with all his strength, he misjudged the direction, and collided with the lower bedpost, the burning pain he felt teaching him that this lower end of himself might well be, for the moment, the most sensitive to pain.

  He therefore tried to lever his top half out of bed first, and cautiously turned his head towards the edge of the bed. This was easily done, and, in spite of its breadth and bulk, the rest of his body slowly followed the direction of the head. But, now craning his neck in empty space well away from the bed, he was afraid to move any further, because if he were to fall in that position, it would take a miracle if he didn’t injure his head. And he mustn’t lose consciousness at any price; it were better then to stay in bed.

  But as he sighed and lay there at the end of his endeavours, and once again beheld his legs struggling, if anything, harder than before, and saw no possibility of bringing any order or calm to their randomness, he told himself once more that he couldn’t possibly stay in bed and that the most sensible solution was to try anything that offered even the smallest chance of getting free of his bed. At the same time, he didn’t forget to remind himself periodically that clarity and calm were better than counsels of despair. At such moments, he levelled his gaze as sharply as possible at the window, but unfortunately there was little solace or encouragement to be drawn from the sight of the morning fog, which was thick enough to obscure even the opposite side of the street. ‘Seven o’clock already,’ he said to himself as his alarm clock struck another quarter, ‘seven o’clock already, and still such dense fog.’ And he lay there for a while longer, panting gently, as though perhaps expecting that silence would restore the natural order of things.

  But then he said to himself: ‘By quarter past seven, I must certainly have got out of bed completely. In any case, somebody will have come from work by then to ask after me, because the business opens before seven o’clock’ And he set about rhythmically rocking his body clear of the bed. If he dropped out of bed in that way, then he would try to raise his head sharply at the last moment, so that it remained uninjured. His back seemed to be tough; a fall on to the carpet would surely not do it any harm. What most concerned him was the prospect of the loud crash he would surely cause, which would presumably provoke anxiety, if not consternation, behind all the doors. But that was a risk he had to take.

  As Gregor was already half-clear of the bed — this latest method felt more like play than serious exertion, requiring him only to rock himself from side to side — he thought how simple everything would be if he had some help. Two strong people he thought of his father and the servant-girl — would easily suffice; they needed only to push their arms under his curved back, peel him out of bed, bend down under his weight, and then just pay attention while they flipped him over on to the floor, where his legs would hopefully come into their own. But then, even if the doors hadn’t been locked, could he have really contemplated calling for help? Even in his extremity, he couldn’t repress a smile at the thought.

  He had already reached the point where his rocking was almost enough to send him off balance, and he would soon have to make up his mind once and for all what he was going to do, because it was ten past seven — when the doorbell rang. ‘It must be someone from work,’ he said to himself and went almost rigid, while his little legs, if anything, increased their agitation. For a moment there was silence. ‘They won’t open the door,’ Gregor said to himself, from within some mad hope. But then of course, as always, the servant-girl walked with firm stride to the door and opened it. Gregor needed only to hear the first word from the visitor to know that it was the chief clerk in person. Why only was Gregor condemned to work for a company where the smallest lapse was greeted with the gravest suspicion? Were all the employees without exception scoundrels, were there really no loyal and dependable individuals among them, who, if once a couple of morning hours were not exploited for work, were driven so demented by pangs of conscience that they were unable to get out of bed? Was it really not enough to send a trainee to inquire — if inquiries were necessary at all — and did the chief clerk need to come in person, thereby demonstrating to the whole blameless family that the investigation of Gregor’s delinquency could only be entrusted to the seniority and trained intelligence of a chief clerk? And more on account of the excitement that came over Gregor with these reflections, than as the result of any proper decision on his part, he powerfully swung himself right out of bed. There was a loud impact, though not a crash as such. The fall was somewhat muffled by the carpet; moreover, his back was suppler than Gregor had expected, and therefore the result was a dull thump that did not draw such immediate attention to itself. Only he had been a little careless of his head, and had bumped it; frantic with rage and pain, he turned and rubbed it against the carpet.

  ‘Something’s fallen down in there, said the chief clerk in the hallway on the left. Gregor tried to imagine whether the chief clerk had ever experienced something similar to what had happened to himself today; surely it was within the bounds of possibility. But as if in blunt reply to this question, the chief clerk now took a few decisive steps next door, his patent-leather boots creaking. From the room on the right, his sister now whispered to Gregor: ‘Gregor, the chief clerk’s here.’ ‘I know,’ Gregor replied to himself; but he didn’t dare say it sufficiently loudly for his sister to hear him.

  ‘Gregor,’ his father now said from the left-hand room, ‘the chief clerk has come, and wants to know why you weren’t on the early train. We don’t know what to tell him. He wants a word with you too. So kindly open the door. I’m sure he’ll turn a blind eye to the untidiness in your room.’ ‘Good morning, Mr Samsa,’ called the cheery voice of the chief clerk. ‘He’s not feeling well,’ Gregor’s mother interjected to the chief clerk, while his father was still talking by the door, ‘he’s not feeling well, believe me, Chief Clerk. How otherwise could Gregor miss his train! You know that boy has nothing but work in his head! It almost worries me that he never goes out on his evenings off; he’s been in the city now for the past week, but he’s spent every evening at home. He sits at the table quietly reading the newspaper, or studying the railway timetable. His only hobby is a little occasional woodwork. In the past two or three evenings, he’s carved a little picture-frame; I think you’ll be surprised by the workmanship; he’s got it up on the wall in his room; you’ll see it the instant Gregor opens the door. You’ve no idea how happy I am to see you,
Chief Clerk; by ourselves we would never have been able to induce Gregor to open the door, he’s so obstinate; and I’m sure he’s not feeling well, even though he told us he was fine.’ ‘I’m just coming,’ Gregor said slowly and deliberately, not stirring, so as not to miss a single word of the conversation outside. ‘I’m sure you’re right, madam,’ said the chief clerk, ‘I only hope it’s nothing serious. Though again I have to say that — unhappily or otherwise — we businesspeople often find ourselves in the position of having to set aside some minor ailment, in the greater interest of our work.’ ‘So can we admit the chief clerk now?’ asked his impatient father, knocking on the door again. ‘No,’ said Gregor. In the left-hand room there was now an awkward silence, while on the right his sister began to sob.

  Why didn’t his sister go and join the others? She had presumably only just got up, and hadn’t started getting dressed yet. And then why was she crying? Because he wouldn’t get up and admit the chief clerk, because he was in danger of losing his ‘job, and because the director would then pursue his parents with the old claims? Surely those anxieties were still premature at this stage. Gregor was still here, and wasn’t thinking at all about leaving the family. For now he was sprawled on the carpet, and no one who was aware of his condition could have seriously expected that he would allow the chief clerk into his room. But this minor breach of courtesy, for which he could easily find an explanation later, hardly constituted reason enough for Gregor to be sent packing. Gregor thought it was much more sensible for them to leave him alone now, rather than bother him with tears and appeals. It was just the uncertainty that afflicted the others and accounted for their behaviour.

  ‘Mr Samsa,’ the chief clerk now called out loudly, ‘what’s the matter? You’ve barricaded yourself into your room, you give us one-word answers, you cause your parents grave and needless anxiety and — this just by the by — you’re neglecting your official duties in a quite unconscionable way. I am talking to you on behalf of your parents and the director, and I now ask you in all seriousness for a prompt and full explanation. I must say, I’m astonished, I’m astonished. I had taken you for a quiet and sensible individual, but you seem set on indulging a bizarre array of moods. This morning the director suggested a possible reason for your missing your train — it was to do with the authority to collect payments recently entrusted to you —- but I practically gave him my word of honour that that couldn’t be the explanation. Now, though, in view of your baffling obstinacy, I’m losing all inclination to speak up on your behalf. And your position is hardly the most secure. I had originally come with the intention of telling you as much in confidence, but as you seem to see fit to waste my time, I really don’t know why your parents shouldn’t get to hear about it as well. Your performances of late have been extremely unsatisfactory; it’s admittedly not the time of year for the best results, we freely concede that; but a time of year for no sales, that doesn’t exist in our calendars, Mr Samsa, and it mustn’t exist.’

  ‘But Chief Clerk,’ Gregor exclaimed, in his excitement forgetting everything else, ‘I’ll let you in right away. A light indisposition, a fit of giddiness, have prevented me from getting up. I’m still lying in bed. But I feel almost restored. I’m even now getting out of bed. Just one moment’s patience! It seems I’m not as much improved as I’d hoped. But I feel better just the same. How is it something like this can befall a person! Only last night I felt fine, my parents will confirm it to you, or rather, last night I had a little inkling already of what lay ahead. It probably showed in my appearance somewhere. Why did I not think to inform work! It’s just that one always imagines that one will get over an illness without having to take time off. Chief Clerk, sir! Spare my parents! All those complaints you bring against me, they’re all of them groundless; it’s the first I’ve heard of any of them. Perhaps you haven’t yet perused the last batch of orders I sent in. By the way, I mean to set out on the eight o’clock train — the couple of hours rest have done me the world of good. Chief Clerk, don’t detain yourself any longer; I’ll be at work myself presently. Kindly be so good as to let them know, and pass on my regards to the director!’

  While Gregor blurted all this out, almost unaware of what he was saying, he had moved fairly effortlessly — no doubt aided by the practice he had had in bed — up to the bedside table, and now attempted to haul himself into an upright position against it. He truly had it in mind to open the door, to show himself and to speak to the chief clerk; he was eager to learn what the others, who were all clamouring for him, would say when they got to see him. If they were shocked, then Gregor would have no more responsibility, and could relax. Whereas if they took it all calmly, then he wouldn’t have any cause for agitation either, and if he hurried, he might still get to the station by eight o’clock. To begin with he could get no purchase on the smooth bedside table, but at last he gave himself one more swing, and stood there upright; he barely noticed the pain in his lower belly, though it did burn badly. Then he let himself drop against the back of a nearby chair, whose edges he clasped with some of his legs. With that he had attained mastery over himself, and was silent, because now he could listen to the chief clerk.

  ‘Did you understand a single word of that?’ the chief clerk asked Gregor’s parents, ‘you don’t suppose he’s pulling our legs, do you?’ ‘In the name of God,’ his mother cried, her voice already choked with tears, ‘perhaps he’s gravely ill, and we’re tormenting him. Grete! Grete!’ she called out. ‘Mother?’ his sister called back from the opposite side. They were communicating with one another through Gregor’s room. ‘Go to the doctor right away. Gregor’s ill. Hurry and fetch the doctor. Were you able to hear him just now?’ ‘That was the voice of an animal,’ said the chief clerk, strikingly much more quietly than his mother and her screaming. ‘Anna! Anna!’ his father shouted through the hallway, in the direction of the kitchen, and clapped his hands, ‘get the locksmith right away!’ And already two girls in rustling skirts were hurrying through the hallway — however had his sister managed to dress so quickly? — and out through the front door. There wasn’t the bang of it closing either; probably they had left it open, as happens at times when a great misfortune has taken place.

  Meanwhile, Gregor had become much calmer. It appeared his words were no longer comprehensible, though to his own hearing they seemed clear enough, clearer than before, perhaps because his ear had become attuned to the sound. But the family already had the sense of all not being well with him, and were ready to come to his assistance. The clarity and resolve with which the first instructions had been issued did him good. He felt himself back within the human ambit, and from both parties, doctor and locksmith, without treating them really in any way as distinct one from the other, he hoped for magnificent and surprising feats. In order to strengthen his voice for the decisive conversations that surely lay ahead, he cleared his throat a few times, as quietly as possible, as it appeared that even this sound was something other than a human cough, and he no longer trusted himself to tell the difference. Next door, things had become very quiet. Perhaps his parents were sitting at the table holding whispered consultations with the chief clerk, or perhaps they were all pressing their ears to the door, and listening.

  Gregor slowly pushed himself across to the door with the chair, there let go of it and dropped against the door, holding himself in an upright position against it — the pads on his little legs secreted some sort of sticky substance — and there rested a moment from his exertions. And then he set himself with his mouth to turn the key in the lock. Unfortunately, it appeared that he had no teeth as such — what was he going to grip the key with? — but luckily his jaws were very powerful; with their help, he got the key to move, and he didn’t stop to consider that he was certainly damaging himself in some way, because a brown liquid came out of his mouth, ran over the key, and dribbled on to the floor. ‘Listen,’ the chief clerk was saying next door, ‘he’s turning the key.’ This was a great encouragement for Gregor; but they
all of them should have called out to him, his father and mother too: ‘Go, Gregor,’ they should have shouted ‘keep at it, work at the lock!’ And with the idea that they were all following his efforts with tense concentration, he bit fast on to the key with all the strength he possessed, to the point when he was ready to black out. The more the key moved in the door, the more he danced around the lock; now he was holding himself upright with just his mouth, and, depending on the position, he either hung from the key, or was pressing against it with the full weight of his body. The light click of the snapping lock brought Gregor round, as from a spell of unconsciousness. Sighing with relief, he said to himself: ‘Well, I didn’t need the locksmith after all,’ and he rested his head on the door handle to open the door fully.