Thea Harbou - Metropolis

Joh Fredersen went.

And when his father had gone Freder turned his head back again on idle joints and stared out once more across Metropolis, which was dancing in a whirl of light, staring with blind eyes.

The railing of the narrow balcony on which he stood appeared as an insuperable wall of loneliness, of deep, inward consciousness of having been deserted. No calling, no signalling, not even the loudest of sounds penetrated this wall which was washed about by the strong, lustrous surf of the great Metropolis.

But Josaphat did not want to have ventured the leap from heaven to earth, to have sent a man, who was but performing his duty, into infinity, impotently to make a halt before this wall of loneliness.

There came a night which hung, glowing and vapourous over Metropolis. A thunder storm, which was still distant, burnt its warning fires in deep clouds. All the lights of the great Metropolis seemed more violently, seemed more wildly to lavish themselves on the darkness.

Freder stood by the railing of the narrow balcony his hot hands laid on the railing. A sultry, uneasy puff of wind tugged at him, making the white silk which covered his now much emaciated body to flutter.

Around the ridge of the roof of the house right opposite him there ran, in a shining border, a shining word, running in an everlasting circuit around, behind itself…

Phantasus… Phantasus… Phantasus…

Freder did not see this row of words. The retina received it — not the brain.

Eternal hammering similarity of the wandering word…

Phantasus… Phantasus… Phantasus…

Suddenly the word picture was extinguished and in its place numbers sparkled out of the darkness, disappearing again, again emerging, and this coming and disappearing, coming again and again disappearing, and coming anew had the effect in its unmistakability, of a penetrating, persistent call.

90… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..7… … … … …..

90… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..

90… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..

Freder's eyes caught the numbers.

90… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..

They turned around, they came back again.

90… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..

Thoughts stumbled through his brain.

90-? and 7-? a second 7—?

What did that mean?… How obtrusive these numbers were.

90… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..

90… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..

90… … … … … …..7…..;… … … …..7… … … … … …..

Freder closed his eyes. But now the numbers were within him. He saw them flame up, sparkle, go out… flame up, sparkle, go out.

Was that — no… or yes?

Did not these numbers, some time ago, what seemed to him an immeasurably long period ago, also convey something to him?

90—90—

Suddenly a voice in his head said:

Ninetieth Block… Ninetieth Block… House seven… seventh floor…

Freder opened his eyes. Over there, on the house just opposite, the numbers jerked up, asked and called…

90… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..7… … … … … …..

Freder bent forward over the railing so that it seemed he must hurtle into space. The numbers dazzled him. He made a movement with his arm as though he wanted to cover them up or put them out.

They went out. The shining border went out. The house stood in gloom, only half its height washed around by the shimmer from the white street. The stormy sky, becoming suddenly visible, lay above its roof and — lightning seemed to be crackling.

In the faded light, over there, stood a man.

Freder stepped back from the railing. He raised both hands before his mouth. He looked to the right, to the left; he raised both arms. Then he turned away, as if removed by a natural power from the spot on which he stood, ran into the house, ran through the room, stopped still again…

Carefully… carefully now…

He reflected. He pressed his head between his fists. Was there among his servants, one single soul who could be trusted not to betray him to Slim?

What a miserable state — what a miserable state—!

But what alternative had he to the leap in the dark, the blind trust — the ultimate test of confidence?

He would have liked to extinguish the lights in his room, but he did not dare to, for up to this day he had not been able to bear darkness about him. He paced up and down. He felt the perspiration on his forehead and the trembling of his joints. He could not calculate the time which elapsed. The blood roared in his veins like a cataract. The first flash of lightning flickered over Metropolis, and, in the tardy responding rumble of thunder the rushing of the rain at last, mixed itself soothingly. It swallowed up the sound of the opening of the door. When Freder turned around Josaphat was standing in the middle of the room. He was dressed in workman's uniform.

They walked up to each other as though driven by an outward power. But, halfway, they both stopped and looked at each other, and each had for the other the same horrified question on his face. Where have you been since I saw you last? To what hell have you descended?

Freder with his feverish haste, was the first to collect himself. He seized his friend by the arm.

"Sit down!" he said in his toneless voice, which occasionally held the morbid dryness of things burnt. He sat down beside him, not taking his hand from the arm. "You waited for me — In vain and in vain… I could not send you a message, forgive me!"

"I have nothing to forgive you, Mr. Freder," said Josaphat, quietly. "I did not wait for you… On the evening on which I was to have waited for you, I was far, far away from Metropolis and from you… "

Freder's waiting eyes looked at him.

"I betrayed you, Mr. Freder," said Josaphat.

Freder smiled, but Josaphat's eyes extinguished his smile.

"I betrayed you, Mr. Freder," repeated the man. "Slim came to me… He offered me much money… But I only laughed… I threw it at his head. But then be laid on the tables slip with your father's signature… You must believe me, Mr. Freder; He would never have caught me with the money. There is no sum of money for which I would have sold you… But when I saw your father's hand-writing… I still put up a fight. I would gladly have throttled him. But I had no more strength… JOH FREDERSEN was written on the slip… I had no more strength then… "

"I can understand that," said Joh Fredersen's son.

"Thank you… I was to go away from Metropolis — right far away… I flew… The pilot was a strange man. We kept flying straight towards the sun. The sun was setting. Then it occurred to my empty brain that now the hour would come in which I was to wait for you. And I should not be there when you came… I wanted to turn back. I asked the pilot. He wouldn't. He wanted to carry me away by force, farther and farther from Metropolis. He was as obstinate as only a man can be when he knows Slim's will to be behind him. I begged and I threatened. But nothing was of any use. So then, with one of his own tools, I smashed in his skull."

Freder's fingers, which were still resting on Josaphat's arm, tightened their hold a little; but they lay still again immediately.

"Then I jumped out, and I was so far away from Metropolis that a young girl who picked me up in the field did not know the great Metropolis even by name… I came here and found no message from you, and all that I found out was that you were ill… "

He hesitated and was silent, looking at Freder.