author - "Franz Kafka"
tically in such a way that it touches the body only lightly with the needle tips. Once the machine is set in this position, this steel cable tightens up into a rod. And now the performance begins. Someone who is not an initiate sees no external difference among the punishments. The harrow seems to do its work uniformly. As it quivers, it sticks the tips of its needles into the body, which is also vibrating from the movement of the bed. Now, to enable someone to check on how the sentence is being carried out, the harrow is made of glass. That gave rise to certain technical difficulties with fastening the needles securely, but after several attempts we were successful. We didn't spare any efforts. And now, as the inscription is made on the body, everyone can see through the glass. Don't you want to come closer and see the needles for yourself."
The Traveler stood slowly, moved up, and bent over the harrow. "You see," the Officer said, "two sorts of needles in a multiple arrangement. Each long needle has a
sun. He ordered the herald to kneel down beside his bed and whispered the message in his ear. He thought it was so important that he had the herald speak it back to him. He confirmed the accuracy of verbal message by nodding his head. And in front of the entire crowd of those witnessing his death--all the obstructing walls have been broken down, and all the great ones of his empire are standing in a circle on the broad and high soaring flights of stairs--in front of all of them he dispatched his herald. The messenger started off at once, a powerful, tireless man. Sticking one arm out and then another, he makes his way through the crowd. If he runs into resistence, he points to his breast where there is a sign of the sun. So he moves forwards easily, unlike anyone else. But the crowd is so huge; its dwelling places are infinite. If there were an open field, how he would fly along, and soon you would hear the marvellous pounding of his fist on your door. But instead of that, how futile are all his e
lerk, whilehis father continued to speak through the door. "He isn'twell, please believe me. Why else would Gregor have misseda train! The lad only ever thinks about the business. Itnearly makes me cross the way he never goes out in theevenings; he's been in town for a week now but stayed homeevery evening. He sits with us in the kitchen and justreads the paper or studies train timetables. His idea ofrelaxation is working with his fretsaw. He's made a littleframe, for instance, it only took him two or three evenings,you'll be amazed how nice it is; it's hanging up in hisroom; you'll see it as soon as Gregor opens the door.Anyway, I'm glad you're here; we wouldn't have been able toget Gregor to open the door by ourselves; he's so stubborn;and I'm sure he isn't well, he said this morning that he is,but he isn't."
"I'll be there in a moment", said Gregor slowly andthoughtfully, but without moving so that he would not missany word of the conversation. "Well I can't think of anyother wa
ed a glass of it in place of his breakfast and how he thentook a second glassful in order to give himself courage, the last onejust as a precaution for the unlikely chance it would be needed.
Then he was so startled by a shout to him from the other room thathe struck his teeth against the glass. "The supervisor wants to seeyou!" a voice said. It was only the shout that startled him, this curt,abrupt, military shout, that he would not have expected from thepoliceman called Franz. In itself, he found the order very welcome."At last!" he called back, locked the cupboard and, without delay,hurried into the next room. The two policemen were standing there andchased him back into his bedroom as if that were a matter of course."What d'you think you're doing?" they cried. "Think you're going to seethe supervisor dressed in just your shirt, do you? He'd see to it yougot a right thumping, and us and all!" "Let go of me for God's sake!"called K., who had already been pushed back as far as his ward
tically in such a way that it touches the body only lightly with the needle tips. Once the machine is set in this position, this steel cable tightens up into a rod. And now the performance begins. Someone who is not an initiate sees no external difference among the punishments. The harrow seems to do its work uniformly. As it quivers, it sticks the tips of its needles into the body, which is also vibrating from the movement of the bed. Now, to enable someone to check on how the sentence is being carried out, the harrow is made of glass. That gave rise to certain technical difficulties with fastening the needles securely, but after several attempts we were successful. We didn't spare any efforts. And now, as the inscription is made on the body, everyone can see through the glass. Don't you want to come closer and see the needles for yourself."
The Traveler stood slowly, moved up, and bent over the harrow. "You see," the Officer said, "two sorts of needles in a multiple arrangement. Each long needle has a
sun. He ordered the herald to kneel down beside his bed and whispered the message in his ear. He thought it was so important that he had the herald speak it back to him. He confirmed the accuracy of verbal message by nodding his head. And in front of the entire crowd of those witnessing his death--all the obstructing walls have been broken down, and all the great ones of his empire are standing in a circle on the broad and high soaring flights of stairs--in front of all of them he dispatched his herald. The messenger started off at once, a powerful, tireless man. Sticking one arm out and then another, he makes his way through the crowd. If he runs into resistence, he points to his breast where there is a sign of the sun. So he moves forwards easily, unlike anyone else. But the crowd is so huge; its dwelling places are infinite. If there were an open field, how he would fly along, and soon you would hear the marvellous pounding of his fist on your door. But instead of that, how futile are all his e
lerk, whilehis father continued to speak through the door. "He isn'twell, please believe me. Why else would Gregor have misseda train! The lad only ever thinks about the business. Itnearly makes me cross the way he never goes out in theevenings; he's been in town for a week now but stayed homeevery evening. He sits with us in the kitchen and justreads the paper or studies train timetables. His idea ofrelaxation is working with his fretsaw. He's made a littleframe, for instance, it only took him two or three evenings,you'll be amazed how nice it is; it's hanging up in hisroom; you'll see it as soon as Gregor opens the door.Anyway, I'm glad you're here; we wouldn't have been able toget Gregor to open the door by ourselves; he's so stubborn;and I'm sure he isn't well, he said this morning that he is,but he isn't."
"I'll be there in a moment", said Gregor slowly andthoughtfully, but without moving so that he would not missany word of the conversation. "Well I can't think of anyother wa
ed a glass of it in place of his breakfast and how he thentook a second glassful in order to give himself courage, the last onejust as a precaution for the unlikely chance it would be needed.
Then he was so startled by a shout to him from the other room thathe struck his teeth against the glass. "The supervisor wants to seeyou!" a voice said. It was only the shout that startled him, this curt,abrupt, military shout, that he would not have expected from thepoliceman called Franz. In itself, he found the order very welcome."At last!" he called back, locked the cupboard and, without delay,hurried into the next room. The two policemen were standing there andchased him back into his bedroom as if that were a matter of course."What d'you think you're doing?" they cried. "Think you're going to seethe supervisor dressed in just your shirt, do you? He'd see to it yougot a right thumping, and us and all!" "Let go of me for God's sake!"called K., who had already been pushed back as far as his ward