After exchanging a few courtesies about who was to carry out the next
tasks--the gentlemen did not seem to have been allocated specific
functions--one of them went to K. and took his coat, his waistcoat, and
finally his shirt off him. K. made an involuntary shiver, at which the
gentleman gave him a gentle, reassuring tap on the back. Then he
carefully folded the things up as if they would still be needed, even
if not in the near future. He did not want to expose K. to the chilly
night air without moving though, so he took him under the arm and
walked up and down with him a little way while the other gentleman
looked round the quarry for a suitable place. When he had found it he
made a sign and the other gentleman escorted him there. It was near the
rockface, there was a stone lying there that had broken loose. The
gentlemen sat K. down on the ground, leant him against the stone and
settled his head down on the top of it. Despite all the effort they
went to, and despite all the co-operation shown by K., his demeanour
seemed very forced and hard to believe. So one of the gentlemen asked
the other to grant him a short time while he put K. in position by
himself, but even that did nothing to make it better. In the end they
left K. in a position that was far from the best of the ones they had
tried so far. Then one of the gentlemen opened his frock coat and from a
sheath hanging on a belt stretched across his waistcoat he withdrew a
long, thin, double-edged butcher's knife which he held up in the light
to test its sharpness. The repulsive courtesies began once again, one of
them passed the knife over K. to the other, who then passed it back over
K. to the first. K. now knew it would be his duty to take the knife as
it passed from hand to hand above him and thrust it into himself. But
he did not do it, instead he twisted his neck, which was still free,
and looked around. He was not able to show his full worth, was not able
to take all the work from the official bodies, he lacked the rest of
the strength he needed and this final shortcoming was the fault of
whoever had denied it to him. As he looked round, he saw the top floor
of the building next to the quarry. He saw how a light flickered on and
the two halves of a window opened out, somebody, made weak and thin by
the height and the distance, leant suddenly far out from it and
stretched his arms out even further. Who was that? A friend? A good
person? Somebody who was taking part? Somebody who wanted to help? Was
he alone? Was it everyone? Would anyone help? Were there objections that
had been forgotten? There must have been some. The logic cannot be
refuted, but someone who wants to live will not resist it. Where was the
judge he'd never seen? Where was the high court he had never reached? He
raised both hands and spread out all his fingers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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