“What’s happened to me?” he thought. It was no dream. His room, a real room meant for human habitation, though a little too small, lay peacefully within its four familiar walls. Above the table, on which an unpacked sampling of fabric swatches was strewn — Samsa was a traveling salesman — hung the picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and had placed in a pretty gilt frame. It depicted a lady who, decked out in a fur hat and a fur boa, sat upright, raising toward the viewer a heavy fur muff in which her whole forearm was encased.

Gregor’s gaze then turned toward the window, and the dismal weather — you could hear raindrops beating against the window gutter — made him quite melancholy. “What if I went back to sleep for another while and forgot all this foolishness?” he thought; but that was totally out of the question, because he was used to sleeping on his right side, and in his present state he couldn’t get into that position. No matter how energetically he threw himself onto his right side, each time he rocked back into the supine position. He must have tried a hundred times, closing his eyes to avoid seeing his squirming legs, not stopping until he began to feel a slight, dull pain in his side that he had never felt before.

“My God,” he thought, “what a strenuous profession I’ve chosen! Traveling day in and day out. The turmoil of business is much greater than in the home office, and on top of that I’m subjected to this torment of traveling, to the worries about train connections, the bad meals at irregular hours, an intercourse with people that constantly changes, never lasts, never becomes cordial. The devil take it all!” He felt a slight itch up on his belly; slowly shoved himself on his back closer to the bedpost, so he could lift his head better; found the itchy place, which was all covered with little white spots that he was unable to diagnose; and wanted to feel the area with one leg, but drew it back immediately, because when he touched it he was invaded by chills.

He slid back into his former position. “Getting up early like this,” he thought, “makes you totally idiotic. People must have their sleep. Other traveling salesmen live like harem women. For instance, when during the course of the morning I go back to the hotel to copy out the orders I’ve received, those fine gentlemen are just having their breakfast. I should try that with my boss; I’d be fired on the spot. Anyway, who knows whether that wouldn’t be a good thing for me after all. If I didn’t hold myself back because of my parents, I would have quit long ago; I would have walked right up to the boss and let my heart out to him. He would surely have fallen off his desk! That’s a peculiar habit of his, too, sitting on his desk and talking down to his employees from up above; and, besides, they have to step way up close because the boss is so hard of hearing. Now, I haven’t given up all hope yet; once I have the money together to pay off my parents’ debt to him — that should still take five or six years — I’ll definitely go through with it. Then I’ll make the big break. At the moment, of course, I’ve got to get up, because my train leaves at five.”

And he glanced over toward his alarm clock, which was ticking on the wardrobe. “Father in Heaven!” he thought. It was half past six, and the hands were moving ahead peacefully; in fact, it was later than half past, it was almost a quarter to seven. Could the alarm have failed to ring? From the bed he could see that it was correctly set for four; surely, it had also rung. Yes, but was it possible to sleep peacefully through that furniture-shaking ring? Well, he hadn’t slept peacefully, but probably all the more soundly for that. Yet, what should he do now? The next train left at seven; to catch it he would have had to make a mad dash, his sample case wasn’t packed yet, and he himself definitely didn’t feel particularly fresh and lively. And even if he caught the train, he couldn’t escape a bawling out from his boss, because the office messenger had waited at the five-o’clock train and had long since made a report about his negligence. He was a creature of the boss’s, spineless and stupid. Now, what if he reported in sick? But that would be extremely distressing and suspicious, because during his five years’ employment Gregor had not been ill even once. The boss would surely arrive with the health-insurance doctor, would complain to his parents about their lazy son and would cut short all objections by referring them to the health-insurance doctor, in whose eyes the only people that exist at all are perfectly healthy specimens who are work-shy. And besides, would he be so wrong in this case? Actually, aside from a truly excessive drowsiness after all that sleep, Gregor felt quite well and in fact was particularly hungry.

While he was considering all this in the greatest haste, still unable to decide whether to get out of bed — the clock was just striking six forty-five — there was a cautious knock on the door at the head of his bed. “Gregor,” a voice called — it was his mother — “it’s six forty-five. Didn’t you intend to make a trip?” That gentle voice! Gregor was frightened when he heard his own answering voice, which, to be sure, was unmistakably his accustomed one, but in which there now appeared, as if rising from below, an irrepressible, painful peeping sound, so that his words retained their clarity only at the very outset but became distorted as they faded away, so that you couldn’t tell if you had heard them correctly. Gregor had meant to give a detailed answer and explain everything, but under the circumstances he merely said: “Yes, yes; thanks, Mother; I’m getting up now.” Because the door was made of wood, the alteration in Gregor’s voice was probably not noticeable, since his mother was pacified by that explanation and shuffled away. But as a result of that brief conversation the other members of the family had become aware that, contrary to expectation, Gregor was still at home; and his father was soon knocking at one of the side doors, softly, but with his fist. “Gregor, Gregor,” he called, “what’s going on?” And before very long he admonished him again, in a deeper voice: “Gregor! Gregor!” But at the other side door his sister was quietly lamenting: “Gregor? Aren’t you well? Do you need anything?” Gregor answered in both directions: “Be right there!” He made an effort, by enunciating most carefully and by inserting long pauses between the individual words, to free his voice of anything out of the ordinary. His father then returned to his breakfast, but his sister whispered: “Gregor, open up, I beg you.” But Gregor had not the slightest intention of opening the door; in fact, he was now glad he had formed the cautious habit, an offshoot of his business trips, of locking all his doors at night even at home.

First he wanted to get up in peace and unmolested, get dressed and, especially, have breakfast, and only afterwards give the matter further thought, because, as he now realized, in bed he would never arrive at any sensible conclusion to his musings. He recalled that, often in the past, while in bed, he had felt some slight pain or other, perhaps caused by lying in an awkward position, and that, when he got out of bed, the pain had proved to be purely imaginary; and he was eager to find out how his impressions of that morning would gradually be dispelled. That the alteration in his voice was nothing more than the harbinger of a nasty cold, a professional hazard of traveling salesmen, he had not the slightest doubt.

To throw off the blanket was quite easy; all he needed to do was puff himself up a little and it fell down by itself. But after that things became difficult, especially since he was so unusually wide. He would normally have used his arms and hands to hoist himself up; but instead of them he now had only the numerous little legs, which were uninterruptedly moving in the most confused way and which, in addition, he couldn’t control. Whenever he intended to bend one of them, at first he extended it; and when he finally succeeded in executing his wishes with that particular leg, all of the others meanwhile would thrash about as if they were completely independent, in an extreme, painful agitation. “But I can’t stay in bed doing nothing,” Gregor said to himself.

First he wanted to leave the bed with the lower part of his body, but this lower part, which, by the way, he hadn’t seen yet and of which he couldn’t form any clear idea, either, proved to be too difficult to move around; the procedure was so slow; and when finally, having grown almost wild, he gathered all his strength and pushed forward heedlessly, he went in the wrong direction and collided violently with the lower bedpost. The burning pain that he felt taught him that it was precisely the lower part of his body that was perhaps the most sensitive at the moment.

Therefore, he tried to get the upper part of his body out of bed first, and carefully turned his head toward the edge of the bed. He managed to do this easily and, despite its width and weight, finally the bulk of his body slowly followed in the direction his head had turned. But when at last he had moved his head into the open space outside the bed, he became afraid of continuing to edge forward in this manner, because if he finally let himself fall like that, it would take a real miracle to keep his head from being injured. And now of all times he must take every precaution not to lose consciousness; rather than that, he would stay in bed.

But when once again, heaving a sigh after similar efforts, he lay there just as before, and once again saw his little legs battling one another even more pitifully, if that were possible — when he could find no possibility of bringing calm and order into that arbitrary turmoil — he told himself again that he couldn’t possibly stay in bed, and that the most sensible thing was to make every sacrifice if there existed even the smallest hope of thereby freeing himself from bed. But at the same time he didn’t forget to remind himself occasionally that the calmest possible reflection is far preferable to desperate decisions. At such moments he would direct his eyes as fixedly as possible toward the window, but unfortunately there was not much confidence or cheer to be derived from the sight of the morning fog, which even shrouded the other side of the narrow street. “Seven o‘clock already,” he said to himself as the clock struck again, “seven o’clock already and still such a fog.” And for a little while he lay there calmly, breathing very gently, as if perhaps expecting the total silence to restore him to his real, understandable condition.

But then he said to himself: “Before it strikes seven fifteen, I just have to be all the way out of bed. Besides, by that time someone from the firm will come to ask about me, because the office open’s before seven o’clock.” And now he prepared to rock his entire body out of bed at its full length in a uniform movement. If he let himself fall out of bed in this manner, he expected that his head, which he intended to lift up high during the fall, would receive no injury. His back seemed to be hard; when falling onto the carpet, surely nothing would happen to it. His greatest fear was the thought of the loud crash which must certainly result, and which would probably cause, if not a scare, then at least concern on the other side of all the doors. But that risk had to be taken.

When Gregor was already projecting halfway out of bed — this new method was more of a game than a hard task, all he needed to do was keep on rocking back and forth in short spurts — it occurred to him how simple everything would be if someone came to help him. Two strong people — he thought of his father and the maid — would have completely sufficed; they would only have had to shove their arms under his rounded back, extract him from bed that way like a nut from its shell, stoop down under his bulk and then merely wait cautiously until he had swung himself entirely over on the floor, where hopefully his little legs would find their use. Now, completely apart from the fact that the doors were locked, should he really have called for help? Despite all his tribulations, he was unable to suppress a smile at that thought.

He had now proceeded so far that, when rocking more vigorously, he could barely still maintain his equilibrium, and would very soon have to reach a definitive decision, because in five minutes it would be seven fifteen — when there was a ring at the apartment door. “That’s somebody from the firm,” he said to himself and nearly became rigid, while his little legs danced all the more quickly. For a moment everything remained quiet. “They aren’t opening,” Gregor said to himself, enmeshed in some unreasoning hope. But then, naturally, just as always, the maid went to the door with a firm tread and opened it. Gregor needed only to hear the visitor’s first words of greeting and he already knew who it was — the chief clerk himself. Why was only Gregor condemned to work for a firm where people immediately conceived the greatest suspicions at the smallest sign of negligence? Were all employees simply scoundrels, was there among them not one loyal, devoted person who, even though he had merely failed to utilize a couple of morning hours on behalf of the firm, had become crazed by pangs of conscience, to the point of being incapable of getting out of bed? Wouldn’t it really have been enough to send an apprentice to ask — if all this questioning was necessary at all — did the chief clerk himself have to come, thereby indicating to the entire innocent family that the investigation into this suspicious incident could only be entrusted to the intelligence of the chief clerk? And, more as a result of the irritation that these reflections caused Gregor, than as a result of a proper decision, he swung himself out of bed with all his might. There was a loud thump, but it wasn’t a real crash. The fall was deadened somewhat by the carpet, and in addition Gregor’s back was more resilient than he had thought, so that the muffled sound wasn’t so noticeable. But he hadn’t held his head carefully enough and had bumped it; he turned it and rubbed it against the carpet in vexation and pain.

“Something fell in there,” said the chief clerk in the room on the left side. Gregor tried to imagine whether the chief clerk might not some day have an experience similar to his of today: the possibility really had to be conceded. But, as if in brutal response to this question, the chief clerk now took a few determined steps in the adjoining room, which made his patent-leather boots squeak. From the room on the right side Gregor’s sister whispered, to inform him: “Gregor, the chief clerk is here.” “I know,” said Gregor to himself, but he didn’t dare to raise his voice so loud that his sister could hear him.

“Gregor,” his father now said from the room on the left side, “the chief clerk has come and is inquiring why you didn’t leave by the early train. We don’t know what to tell him. Besides, he wants to talk with you personally. So please open the door. He will surely be kind enough to forgive the disorder in your room.” “Good morning, Mr. Samsa,” the chief clerk meanwhile called, in a friendly tone. “He isn’t well,” Gregor’s mother said to the chief clerk while his father was still talking at the door, “he isn’t well, believe me, sir. How otherwise would Gregor miss a train! The boy has no head for anything but the business. I’m almost upset, as it is, that he never goes out at night; he’s been in town for eight days this time, but has stayed at home every night. He sits with us at the table and reads the paper quietly or studies timetables. It’s already a distraction for him when he busies himself with fretsaw work. So, for example, during two or three evenings he carved a small frame; you’ll be amazed how pretty it is; it’s hanging in his room; you’ll see it right away when Gregor opens up. Besides, I’m glad you’re here, sir; on our own we couldn’t have persuaded Gregor to open the door; he’s so obstinate; and I’m sure he’s not feeling well, even though he denied it earlier this morning.” “I’ll be right there,” said Gregor slowly and deliberately, but not making a move, so as to lose not a word of the conversation. “I, too, my dear lady, can think of no other explanation,” said the chief clerk; “I hope it’s nothing serious. Although I am also bound to state that we business people — unfortunately or fortunately, according to how you look at it — very often simply have to overcome a slight indisposition out of regard for the business.” “Well, can the gentleman go in to see you now?” asked the impatient father, and knocked on the door again. “No,” said Gregor. In the room on the left side a painful silence ensued, in the room on the right side the sister began to sob.

Why didn’t the sister go and join the others? She had probably just gotten out of bed and hadn’t even begun dressing. And why was she crying? Because he didn’t get up and let the chief clerk in? Because he was in danger of losing his job, and because then his boss would once more dun their parents for his old claims? For the time being those were needless worries, after all. Gregor was still here and hadn’t the slightest thought of abandoning his family. At the moment he was lying there on the carpet, and no one acquainted with his current state could seriously have asked him to let in the chief clerk. But, after all, Gregor couldn’t really be discharged at once on account of this slight discourtesy, for which a suitable excuse would easily be found later on. And it seemed to Gregor that it would be much more sensible to leave him in peace for now instead of disturbing him with tears and exhortations. But it was precisely all the uncertainty that was oppressing the others and that excused their behavior.

“Mr. Samsa,” the chief clerk now called in a louder voice, “what’s going on? You’re barricading yourself in your room, giving just ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers, causing your parents big, needless worries and — to mention this just incidentally — neglecting your business duties in a truly unheard-of fashion. I am speaking here in the name of your parents and of your employer, and I am asking you quite seriously for an immediate, lucid explanation. I’m amazed, I’m amazed. I thought I knew you for a calm, sensible person, and now suddenly you apparently want to begin making an exhibition of peculiar caprices. To be sure, early this morning our employer, when speaking to me, hinted at a possible explanation for your negligence — it concerned the cash receipts that were recently entrusted to you — but, honestly, I all but gave him my word of honor that that explanation couldn’t be the true one. Now, however, I see your incomprehensible stubbornness here and I am losing all willingness to say a good word for you in the slightest way. Nor is your position by any means the most solid. I originally had the intention of telling you all this between ourselves, but since you are making me waste my time here pointlessly, I don’t know why your parents shouldn’t hear it, too. Well, then, your performance recently has been most unsatisfactory; true, this isn’t the season for doing especially good business, we acknowledge that; but a season for doing no business at all just doesn’t exist, Mr. Samsa, it can’t be allowed to exist.” “But, sir,” Gregor called out in distraction, forgetting everything else in his excitement, “I’m going to open the door immediately, this minute. A slight indisposition, a dizzy spell, have prevented me from getting up. I’m still lying in bed. But now I feel quite lively again. I am just now climbing out of bed. Be patient for just another moment! I’m not quite as well yet as I thought. But I now feel all right. The things that can affect a person! Just last evening I felt perfectly fine, my parents know that; or it might be better to say that even last evening I had a little advance indication. People should have noticed it from the way I looked. Why didn’t I report it at the office?! But you always think that you’ll be able to fight off an illness without having to stay home. Sir! Spare my parents! There is no basis for all the complaints you’re now making against me; and no one has said a word to me about them. Perhaps you haven’t read the last orders I sent in. Besides, I’ll still make the trip on the eight-o’clock train, the couple of hours of rest have strengthened me. Don’t waste your time here, sir; I’ll be at the office myself in no time, and please be good enough to tell them that and give my best wishes to our employer!”

And while Gregor was pouring all of this out hastily, scarcely knowing what he was saying, he had approached the wardrobe without difficulty, probably because of the practice he had already had in bed, and was now trying to draw himself up against it. He wanted actually to open the door, actually to show himself and speak with the chief clerk; he was eager to learn what the others, who were now so desirous of his presence, would say when they saw him. If they got frightened, then Gregor would have no further responsibility and could be calm. But if they accepted everything calmly, then he, too, would have no cause to be upset, and, if he hurried, he could really be at the station at eight o’clock. At first, now, he slid back down the smooth wardrobe several times, but finally, giving himself one last thrust, he stood there upright; he paid no more attention to the pains in his abdomen, severe as they were. Now he let himself fall against the backrest of a nearby chair and held tight to its edges with his little legs. By doing so, moreover, he had also gained control over himself and he fell silent, because now he could listen to the chief clerk.

“Did you understand even a single word?” the chief clerk was asking his parents; “he isn’t trying to make a fool of us, is he?” “God forbid,” called his mother, who was weeping by this time, “he may be seriously ill, and we’re torturing him. Grete! Grete!” she then shouted. “Mother?” called his sister from the other side. They were communicating across Gregor’s room. “You must go to the doctor’s at once. Gregor is sick. Fetch the doctor fast. Did you hear Gregor speaking just now?” “That was an animal’s voice,” said the chief clerk, noticeably quietly in contrast to the mother’s shouting. “Anna! Anna!” called the father through the hallway into the kitchen, clapping his hands, “get a locksmith right away!” And already the two girls were running down the hallway with rustling skirts — how had his sister gotten dressed so quickly? — and tore open the apartment door. There was no sound of the door closing; they had most likely left it open, as is the case in apartments where a great misfortune has occurred.

But Gregor had become much calmer. To be sure, he now realized that his speech was no longer intelligible, even though it had seemed clear enough to him, clearer than before, perhaps because his ears were getting used to it. But anyway they were now believing that there was something wrong with him and they were ready to help him. The confidence and security with which the first measures had been taken, comforted him. He felt that he was once more drawn into the circle of humanity and hoped for magnificent and surprising achievements on the part of both, the doctor and the locksmith, without really differentiating much between them. In order to restore his voice to its maximum clarity for the imminent decisive discussions, he cleared it a little by coughing, but took care to do this in very muffled tones, since possibly even that noise might sound different from human coughing, and he no longer trusted himself to make the distinction. Meanwhile it had become completely quiet in the adjoining room. Perhaps his parents were sitting at the table with the chief clerk and whispering quietly, perhaps they were all leaning against the door and listening.

Gregor shoved himself slowly to the door, using the chair; once there, he let it go and threw himself against the door, holding himself upright aga...