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 five 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.
