Metropolis ~ Chapter 9
This piece is part of my ongoing translation of the novel of Thea von Harbou’s “Metropolis”. If you’d like to find out more about the project and see other chapters, check out the essay below:
The aeroplane which carried Josaphat away from Metropolis swam in the golden air of the setting sun, rushing after it at a tearing speed, as though fastened to the westward sinking ball by metal cords.
Josaphat sat behind the pilot. From the moment when the airport had sunk below them and the stone mosaic of the great Metropolis had faded into the inscrutable depths, he had not given the slightest sign that he was a human being with the ability to breathe and move. The pilot seemed to be carrying a pale grey stone, which had the shape of a man, with him as freight, and when he turned around one time, he looked fully into the wide open eyes of this petrified man without even meeting a glance or the slightest sign of consciousness.
Nevertheless, Josaphat had caught the movement of the pilot's head with his brain. Not immediately. Not soon. Yet the image of this cautious, but certain and vigilant movement remained in his memory until he finally comprehended it.
Then the petrified image seemed to become a human being again, whose chest rose in a long-neglected breath, who raised his eyes upwards, looking into an empty greenish-blue sky and down again to earth which formed a flat, round carpet deep into infinity, and at a sun which was rolling westwards like a glowing ball.
Last of all, however, at the head of the pilot who sat before him, and at the aviator cap which merged, neckless, into shoulders filled with bull-like strength and a violent calm.
The powerful engine of the aeroplane worked in perfect silence. But the air through which the aeroplane tore forward was filled with a mysterious thunder, as though the dome of the heavens were catching the roaring of the globe and throwing it angrily back.
Above a strange earth, the aeroplane hovered homelessly, like a bird not finding its nest.
Suddenly, amid the thunder of the air, the pilot heard a voice in his left ear that said, almost softly: "Turn around."
The head in the aviator cap was about to bend backwards. But on its first attempt it ran into a point of pressure which rested exactly on the top of his skull. This pressure-point was small, apparently angular and extraordinarily hard.
"Don't move!" said the voice in his left ear, which was so soft and yet made itself understood through the thunder of the air. "Don't look round, either! I have no gun with me. Had I one to hand, I would probably not be here. What I have in my hand is an implement, the name and purpose of which are alien to me. But it is made of solid steel and absolutely sufficient for smashing in your skull with should you not obey me immediately. Turn around!"
The bull-like shoulders half-under the aviator cap raised themselves in a short, impatient jerk. The glowing ball of the sun touched the horizon with an inexpressibly light hovering. For some seconds it had the appearance of dancing along it in a gentle, sparkling rhythm. The nose of the aeroplane was turned towards it and did not alter its course by a hand's breadth.
"You do not seem to have understood me," said the voice behind the pilot. "Turn around! I want to return to Metropolis, do you hear? I must be there before it becomes night-time. Well?"
"Shut your mouth," said the pilot.
"For the last time, will you obey or not?"
"Sit down and keep quiet back there. Damn it, what do you even mean?"
"You won't obey?"
Roaring...
A young girl, in the last light of the setting sun, turning the hay in a wide, gentle pasture, had spied the rushing bird above her in the evening sky and was watching it with work-heated, summer-tired eyes.
How unusual the aeroplane rose and fell! It made leaps like a horse wanting to shake off its rider. Soon it raced towards the sun, soon turning its back on it. Never had the young girl seen such wild and unruly a creature in the air
Now it swung westwards and dashed in long, thrusting movements along the sky. Something freed itself from it: a wide, silver-grey cloth, which inflated itself...
Blown hither and thither by the wind, the silver-grey cloth fluttered down to earth; a silky dome, in the webbing of which a gigantic, dark spider seemed to hang.
Screaming, the young girl began to run. On the thin cords, the great black spider reeled itself lower and lower down. Now it was already like a human being. A white, death-like face bent itself downwards. Gently, the Earth curved itself towards the sinking creature. The man left go of the cord and leaped. And plummeted. Pulled himself up again. And plummeted anew.
Like a snow cloud, soft and shimmering, the silver-grey cloth sank over him, covering him completely.
The young girl came running up to it.
She was still screaming, wordlessly, breathlessly, as though these primitive shrieks were her actual language. She bundled up the silver silk cloth under her young breasts with both arms, in order to bring the man, who lay entombed beneath it, into the light again.
Yes, he lay there now, stretched-out wide on his back, and under the grip of his fingers had torn the silk which was so strong to have carried him. And where his fingers lost hold of the silk to find another patch which they could tear, moist, red marks remained upon the scrunched-up fabric, like those left behind by an animal that had dipped its paws into the blood of its enemy.
At the sight of these marks, the young girl became silent.
An expression of horror came into her face, but at the same time an expression like mother-beasts have when they sense an enemy and do not want to betray themselves nor their brood at any cost.
She bit her teeth together such that her young mouth became quite pale and thin. She knelt down low beside the man and lifted his head into her lap.
In the white face that she held, the eyes opened up. They stared into the eyes which bent over them. They glanced sideways and searched across the sky.
A rushing black point in the scarlet of the westerly sky, from which the sun had sunk...
The aeroplane.
Now it had indeed asserted its will and flew towards the sun, ever-further westward. At its wheel sat the man who would not turn around, and was as dead as possible. The aviator cap hung down tattered from a gaping skull on to the bull-like shoulders. But the fists had not lost hold of the wheel. Now, they still held it tight.
Farewell, pilot...
The face that lay in the young girl's lap began to smile, began to ask.
Where was the nearest town?
There was no town, far and wide.
Where was the nearest railway?
There was no railway, far and wide.
Josaphat lifted himself up. He looked around him.
For miles around were fields and pastures, hemmed-in by forests that stood there in their evening silence. The scarlet of the sky had been erased. The crickets chirped. The mist brewed milky-white about the solitary, distant willows. From the holy purity of the great sky the first star appeared with its still flicker.
"I must leave," said the man with the white, death-like face.
"First you should rest up," said the young girl.
The man's eyes looked up at her in astonishment. Her clear face, with its low, naive brow and its beautiful, foolish mouth stood out against the sky which arched above her, as if under a dome of sapphire.
"Aren't you afraid of me?" asked the man.
"No," said the young girl.
The head of the man fell into her lap. She bent forward and covered up the shivering body with the billowing, silver silk.
"Rest up..." said the man with a sigh.
She gave no reply. She sat fully motionless.
"Will you awaken me," asked the man — and his voice quivered with weariness — "as soon as the sun comes?"
"Yes," said the young girl. "Be quiet."
He sighed deeply. Then he lay silent.
It became darker and darker.
At one point, in the far distance, a voice rang out, long drawn out, calling a name again and again...
The stars stood glorious above the world. The distant voice became silent. The young girl looked at the man whose head lay in her lap. In her eyes was the never-sleeping vigilance, seen in the eyes of animals and mothers.
< Chapter 8 = = = = = = = = = = = Chapter 10 >