I and the other leper, we carefully crawled up to the wall and looked up. From here the top of the wall could not be seen; it ascended upwards, straight and smooth, slicing the sky sharply into two halves. And our half of the sky was brown-black, and towards the horizon it was dark blue, which made it impossible to make out where it was that the black earth ended and the sky began. And the black night, crushed by the sky and the earth, was suffocating with a dull and painful groan, and with every breath it spit out from its depths sharp and burning sand which tortuously burned our ulcers.
“Let’s try to climb over,” the leper said to me, and his voice was nasal and foul, just like mine.
And he presented his shoulder, and I stood on it, but the wall was just as high. It split the earth as it did the sky, it lay atop it like a fat, sated snake, it fell into chasms and climbed over mountains but it kept its head and its tail hidden beyond the horizon.
“Well, then we’ll break her!” suggested the leper.
“We’ll break her!” I agreed.
We hit the wall with our chests, painting it with the blood of our wounds, but it remained mute and motionless. And we fell into despair.
“Kill us! Kill us!” we groaned and crawled, but all the faces turned away from us with disgust, and we saw only their backs, shuddering from a deep revulsion.
This is how we crawled up to the starving one. He sat leaning against a rock, and it seemed like the very granite was in pain from his sharp, prickly shoulder blades. He had no flesh at all, and his bones clacked as he moved, and the dry skin rustled. His lower jaw was hanging, and from the dark opening of his mouth emanated a dry, rough voice:
And we laughed and began to crawl faster, until we bumped into the four who were dancing. They came together and drew apart, they hugged each other and circled round, and their faces were pale, tortured, without a smile. One of them began to cry because he was tired of the endless dance and was asking to stop, but another hugged him in silence and started to spin him, and once again he began to come together and draw apart, and with every one of his steps fell a large murky tear.
“I want to dance,” drawled my comrade, but I drew him onwards.
The wall was again in front of us, and right by it two others sat squatting. At even intervals one of them would smash his forehead against the wall and fall, losing his consciousness. The other would look at him seriously, feel his head with his hand, then the wall, and then, when the other regained consciousness, would say:
“More is needed; not long to go now.”
And the leper laughed.
“They are fools,” he said, joyfully inflating his cheeks. “They are fools. They think it’s light on the other side. But it’s also dark there, and the lepers also crawl there and plead: kill us.”
“And the old man?” I asked.
“Well, what about the old man?” countered the leper. “The old man is stupid, blind, and can’t hear a thing. Who has seen the little hole he has made in the wall? Have you seen it? Have I seen it?”
And I became enraged and hit my comrade painfully on the swollen bubbles atop his skull, and I cried:
“Then why did you yourself try to climb?”
He began to weep, and we both wept and crawled onwards, all the while pleading:
“Kill us! Kill us!”
But the faces turned away with a shudder, and nobody wanted to kill us. They killed the strong and the beautiful, but us they were afraid to touch. Such cowards!
Time did not exist for us, and for us there was no yesterday, no today, and no tomorrow. The night never left us, never left to take a rest behind the mountains so that it could return strong, jet-black, and calm. That is why she was always so weary, exhausted, and sullen. She was vicious. It sometimes happened that she could no longer bear to listen to our screams and wails, could no longer look at our sores, grief, and hatred, and in those moments her black, muffled breast would boil up in a ferocious fury. She roared at us like a caged beast whose reason was blotted out, and she would fiercely blink her terrible, burning eyes, which she cast over black, bottomless pits, over the dreary, sangfroid wall, and over the pitiful cluster of trembling people. They would press onto the wall as if it was a friend, pleading for its protection, but it was always an enemy to us, always. And the night would grow irritated at our timidity and cowardice and would burst into a terrible laughter, shaking her spotted gray belly, and the old, bald mountains would themselves join that satanic laughter. The wall, plunged into a dark mirth, would echo this by playfully dropping stones onto our heads, crushing them and flattening our bodies. This is how they had their fun, these giants, and they echoed each other, and the wind would whistle for them a savage melody, and we lay face down, listening with horror to something massive stirring and faintly grumbling deep within the depths of the earth, beating and trying to escape. Then all of us would plead:
But, in dying every second, we were immortal, like the gods.
A burst of mindless wrath and gaiety passed over us, and the night wept with tears of contrition and breathed heavily, coughing out wet sand at us, as if she was sick. With joy we forgave her, laughed at her, exhausted and weak, and became happy, like children. The yells of the starving one seemed to us a sweet song, and with cheerful envy we looked upon those four, the ones who were coming together, drawing apart, and circling smoothly in an endless dance.
And pair by pair we too began to circle round, and I, a leper, found myself a temporary girlfriend. And this was so fun, so pleasant! I hugged her, and she laughed, and her little teeth were white, and her little cheeks so very pink. It was so pleasant.
And it is impossible to understand how this happened, but those joyfully bared teeth began to click, the kisses turned into bites, and with squeals that still retained their joy we began to gnaw and kill each other. And she, little white teeth, she too was hitting me on my painful, weak head, digging into my chest with her sharp nails, making her way right to the very heart—she beat me, a leper, a poor man, such a poor man. And this—this was more terrifying than the wrath of the very night and the soulless laughter of the wall, and I, a leper, cried and shivered from fear, and, secretly from all the others, I kissed the abominable legs of the wall and pleaded with her to let me, only me alone, pass into that world where there are no insane people killing each other. But the wall, so despicable, did not let me through, and so I spit at her, beat her with my fists, and cried:
“Look at this murderess! She is laughing at you!”
But my voice was nasal and my breath foul, and nobody wanted to listen to me, a leper.
And again we crawled, I and the other leper, and again it became noisy around us, and again those four circled round us in silence, shaking the dirt off their dresses and licking their bloody wounds. But we were tired, we were in pain, and life was weighing us down. My satellite sat down and, hitting the ground at even intervals with his swollen hand, uttered in a quick nasal patter:
“Kill us. Kill us.”
With a swift motion we leapt to our feet and threw ourselves into the crowd, but it moved apart, and we saw only their backs. And we bowed towards their backs and pleaded:
But the backs were motionless and deaf, like a second wall. It was so frightening, when you cannot see the faces of the people, only their backs, motionless and deaf.
But now my satellite has left me. He saw a face, the first face, and it was just like his, ulcerated and hideous. But it was the face of a woman. And he began to smile and walk around her, straightening his neck and spreading his stink, and she too smiled at him with her sunken mouth and lowered her lashless eyes.
And they got married. And for a moment all the faces turned to them, and healthy bodies were shaken by a broad, reverberating laughter: so funny they were, flirting with each other. And I, a leper, I too laughed, for it is stupid to get married when you are ugly and sick.
“Fool,” I said mockingly. “What are you going to do with her?”
“We’re going to trade stones that fall from the wall.”
“And the children we will kill.”
How stupid: giving birth to children just so they can be killed. And anyhow, she will soon be unfaithful to him—she has such sly eyes.
They finished their job—the one smashing his forehead and the one helping him, and when I crawled up to them one of them was hanging on a hook that was driven into the wall, and was still warm, while the other was quietly singing a merry song.
“Go tell the starving one,” I ordered him, and he set off obediently, singing as he went.
And I saw how the starving one swung away from his rock. He wavered, stumbled, caught everyone with his prickly elbows, now on all fours, now crawling, he made his way towards the wall where the hanged one was swaying, and he was clicking his teeth and laughing joyfully, like a child. Just a piece of a leg! But he was too late, and the others, the strong ones, overtook him. Pressing one onto another, scratching and biting, they covered the corpse of the hanged one, ripped into his legs, chomped with appetite and gnawed on the bones. And they did not let him through. And he crouched down, stared at the others eating, and licked his lips with his rough tongue, and a continuous wail emanated from his large, empty mouth:
It was funny, the other died for the starving one and the starving one did not even get a piece of a leg. And I laughed, and the other leper laughed, and his wife was also cheerfully opening and closing her sly eyes—she could not squint because she had no eyelashes.
Meanwhile his wail grew louder and more furious:
And the wheezing disappeared from his voice, and with a clear metallic sound, piercing and pure, it ascended upwards, collided with the wall and, rebounding off of it, flew over dark chasms and gray mountaintops.
And soon everyone near the wall began to wail, and there were so many of them, like locusts, and they were greedy and hungry, like the locust, and it seemed that in its unbearable agony the scorched earth itself began to wail, its rocky mouth agape. It was as if a forest of dried trees was made to bow to one side by a raging wind, rising and stretching out its convulsing arms towards the wall, thin, pitiful, pleading, and there was in them so much despair that the rocks shuddered and the hoary blue clouds cowardly fled. But the wall was motionless and tall and with indifference reflected the wail that cut and pierced the layers of thick, malodorous air.
And all eyes were fixed on the wall, and fiery rays flowed from them. They had faith and they were waiting for the wall to fall and open a new world, and in the blindness of faith they could already see how the stones began to shake, how from the base to the top the stone snake began to tremble, nourished by the blood and brains of man. It may be that we mistook the trembling tears in our eyes for the wall itself, and our wail grew more piercing.
The wrath and jubilation of imminent victory resounded in it.
And this is what happened next. A scrawny old woman with sunken cheeks and long, uncombed hair, which looked like the gray mane of a starving old wolf, stood up high upon a rock. Her clothes were torn, revealing bony yellow shoulders and skinny, saggy breasts, which gave life to many and which were now exhausted by motherhood. She stretched out her hands towards the wall—and all eyes were fixed on them; she spoke, and there was so much torment in her voice that the starving one’s desperate wail was frozen in shame.
“Give me back my child!” she said.
And all of us were silent, and we smiled violently, waiting for the wall’s answer. The brains of the one whom this woman called “her child” protruded from the wall as a bloody gray spot, and we waited impatiently, threateningly, for the answer this vile murderess would give. And it was so still that we could hear the rustle of the clouds moving above our heads, and the black night herself has restrained the groans within her breast and with only a light whistle spat out the burning fine sand which burned our wounds. And again came that ringing, severe, and bitter demand:
“Cruel one, give me back my child!”
Our smiles became more menacing and violent, but the vile wall was silent. And then from the speechless crowd came forward a handsome, stern old man and he stood next to the woman.
“Give me back my son!” he said.
It was so terrifying and exciting! My back shivered from the cold, and my muscles contracted from the flow of an unknown, fierce power, and my satellite pushed at my side, clicking his teeth, and his foul breath flowed out as a hissing, broad wave from his rotting mouth.
And now another man came forward from the crowd and said:
“Give me back my brother!”
And still another man came forward and said:
“Give me back my daughter!”
And now men and women, old and young, began to come forward, and they stretched out their hands, and they relentlessly voiced their bitter demand:
“Give me back my child!”
Then I too, a leper, felt in myself strength and courage, and I came forward and cried out loudly and fiercely:
“Murderess! Give me back my self!”
But she—she was silent. She was so false and vile, she pretended that she did not hear, and a vicious laughter shook my ulcerated cheeks, and a mindless rage filled our tortured hearts. And she was still silent, indifferent, and blank, and then the woman furiously shook her skinny, yellow hands and pitilessly uttered:
“Then be damned you, the killer of my child!”
The handsome, stern old man repeated:
And with a ringing wail of a thousand voices the whole of the earth repeated:
“Be damned! Damned! Damned!”
And the black night took a deep breath, and, just as a sea seized by a hurricane is thrown onto rocks with all of its laden, roaring immensity, the whole world surged up and struck the wall with a thousand charged and furious chests. Bloody foam sprayed up high, to the very clouds heavily rolling by, and it colored them, and they became fiery and terrible, and they cast red light down below where something thundered and rumbled, something small yet monstrously numerous, black, and ferocious. With a paralyzing groan, full of unspeakable pain, it recoiled—and the wall stood motionless and silent. But she was not shy or timid in her silence—the gaze from her formless eyes was gloomy and menacingly calm, and, with pride, like a queen, she lowered from her shoulders the crimson mantle of quick flowing blood, its ends lost among the mangled corpses.
But, in dying every second, we were immortal, like the gods. And again the powerful flow of human bodies roared and struck the wall with all of its strength. And again it recoiled, and this was repeated many, many times, until fatigue set in, and dead sleep, and silence. And I, a leper, was right at the very wall, and I saw that she began to sway, the proud queen, and the horror of falling convulsed through her stones.
“She is falling!” I cried. “Brothers, she is falling!”
“You are mistaken, leper,” my brothers answered me.
And then I pleaded with them:
“Then let her stand, but is not every corpse a step towards the summit? There are many of us, and our life is full of burden. Let’s cover the earth with our corpses, pile corpses upon corpses, and in this way reach the top. And if only one of us remains—then he alone will see a new world.”
And with cheerful hope I looked around—and I saw only their backs, indifferent, fat, tired. The four circled round in an endless dance, coming together and drawing apart, and the black night spit out wet sand as if she was sick, and the wall stood massive and unbreakable.
“Brothers!” I pleaded. “Brothers!”
But my voice was nasal and my breath foul, and nobody wanted to listen to me, a leper.
Woe!… Woe!… Woe!…