Embargo José Saramago
awoke with acute sense of a dream and was slain before him ashen and cold surface of the glass, the eye framed in the morning he entered, pale, cut Cross and perspiration dripping condensation. He thought his wife had forgotten to draw the curtains to the bed and became angry: If you got back to sleep now, would ultimately be a tiring day. However lacked the courage to stand up, to cover the window, preferring to cover the face with the sheet and turn to the woman who slept in their warm refuge and the smell of her hair loose. Was still a few minutes waiting, anxious, fearing the morning insomnia. But then came the idea of \u200b\u200bthe warm cocoon that was the bed and the presence labyrinthine body that was coming and almost slipping into a slow circle of sensual images, fell back into sleep. The eye of glass ash was blue slowly, staring at the two heads resting on the pillow as forgotten remnants of a move to another house or another world. When the alarm went off, after two hours, the room was clear.
told his wife not to get up, which exploited a bit more in the morning, and slid into the cold air indefinable moisture to the walls, the doorknobs, towels in the bathroom. Smoked their first cigarette while he shaved and the second to coffee in the meantime had cooled. Coughed like every morning. Then he dressed in the dark without turning on the light in the room. Do not want to wake his wife. A fresh scent of cologne fanned the penumbra, and that made women sigh with pleasure when the man leaned over the bed to kiss her eyes closed. And whispered to never eat at home.
closed the door and jumped off the ladder. The farm seemed quieter than usual. Perhaps because of the fog thought. He had noticed that the fog was like a bell to drown out the sounds and transforming, dissolving, making them what he did with the images. It was foggy. In the last flight of stairs and could see the street and whether he was right. At the end there was a light gray yet, but hard, shiny, quartz. At the curb, a large dead rat. And as he lit the third cigarette, stopped at the door, a guy came wrapped with a cap, he spat over the animal, he had been taught and always looked to.
The car was five houses down. Very fortunate to have been left there. Had acquired the superstition that the risk of being stolen would be greater the farther he had left for the night. Without having ever said out loud, he was convinced he would never see the car if it is left at either end of the city. There, so close, I had confidence. The car was covered with droplets, crystals covered with moisture. If you do not make so cold, you could say that transpired as a living body. Tires looked as usual, found the way that the antenna was not starting and opened the door. Inside the car was cold. With the windows fogged was a translucent cavern buried under a deluge of water. Thought que habría sido mejor dejar el coche en un sitio desde el cual pudiese hacerlo deslizarse para arrancar más fácilmente. Encendió el coche y en el mismo instante el motor roncó fuerte, con una sacudida profunda e impaciente. Sonrió, satisfecho de gusto. El día empezaba bien.
Calle arriba el automóvil arrancó, rozando el asfalto como un animal de cascos, triturando la basura esparcida. El cuentakilómetros dio un salto repentino a noventa, velocidad de suicidio en la calle estrecha bordeada de coche aparcados. ¿Qué sería? Retiró el pie del acelerador, inquieto. Casi diría que le habían cambiado el motor por otro más potente. Pisó con cuidado el acelerador y dominó el coche. Nada de importancia. A veces no se controla bien el balanceo del pie. Basta que el tacón del zapato no asiente en el lugar habitual para que se altere el movimiento y la presión. Es fácil.
Distraído con el incidente, aún no había mirado el contador de la gasolina. ¿La habrían robado durante la noche, como no sería la primera vez? No. El puntero indicaba precisamente medio depósito. Paró en un semáforo rojo, sintiendo el coche vibrante y tenso en sus manos. Curioso. Nunca había reparado en esta especie de palpitación animal que recorría en olas las láminas de la carrocería y le hacía estremecer el vientre. Con la luz verde el automóvil pareció serpentear, estirarse as a fluid to surpass those before. Curious. But in truth, had always been considered much better conductor than the others. Question of willingness mirroring this agility today, perhaps exceptional. Half a tank. If found running a gas station, take advantage. For safety, with every lap I had to take that day before going to the office, better than less. This stupid embargo. The panic, waiting hours in queues of dozens and dozens of cars. It says the industry will suffer the consequences. Half a tank. Others go at this time with much less, but if possible to fill ... The car took a rocking curve and with the same movement, was launched by a steep climb effortlessly. Nearby was a little-known supplier, may be as lucky. As a setter at the scent goes, the car was hinted in traffic, turned two corners and went to a place in the queue waiting. Good idea.
looked at the clock. They must be ahead about twenty cars. It was no exaggeration. But he thought it best to go first to the office and leave for the afternoon round, and filled the tank, no worries. He lowered the glass to call a passing newsboy. The weather had cooled down a lot. But there, in the car, opened the newspaper on the wheel, smoking while waiting, the heat was nice, as the sheets. He had to move the muscles of the back, with a twist of voluptuous cat, remembering his wife still curled up in bed at that hour and sat in the seat better. The newspaper did not promise anything good. The embargo was maintained. A cold, dark Christmas, said one of the owners. But he still had half a tank and would soon have it full. The car moved forward a bit. Well.
hour and a half later I was filling and three minutes after start. A little worried because the employee had told him, without any particular expression in the voice, so often repeated information, there would not gasoline within fifteen days. On the seat next to the newspaper announced severe restrictions. In short, the bad bad, the tank was full. What would you do? "Go straight to the office or first pass through a customer's house to see if they gave the order? The customer chose. It was preferable to justify the delay in the visit was to say that last hour and a half in the queue for petrol when he was half a tank. The car was superb. He had never felt so good driving it. Turned on the radio and heard a news bulletin. Increasingly bad news. These Arabs. This stupid embargo.
De repente el coche dio una cabezada y se dirigió a la calle de la derecha hasta parar en una cola de automóviles menor que la primera. ¿Qué había sido eso? Tenía el depósito lleno, sí, prácticamente lleno. Por qué este demonio de idea. Movió la palanca de las velocidades para poner marcha atrás, pero la caja de cambios no le obedeció. Intentó forzarla, pero los engranajes parecían bloqueados. Qué disparate. Ahora una avería. El automóvil de delante avanzó. Recelosamente, contando con lo peor, metió la primera. Perfecto todo. Suspiró de alivio. Pero ¿cómo estaría la marcha atrás cuando volviese a necesitarla?
About half an hour after putting half a liter of petrol in the tank, feeling ridiculous under the scornful gaze of the petrol station. Tipped absurdly high and started with a great noise of tires and accelerations. What demon idea. Now the client, or will be a loss tomorrow. The car was better than ever. Responded to their movements like a mechanical extension of his own body. But the case was reversed that thinking. And here was really thinking. A large covered his damaged truck across the center of the street. I could not bypass, had not had time, I was glued to it. Again with fear and move the lever reverse came in with a soft sucking noise. Did not remember that the gearbox had reacted that way before. Turned the wheel to the left, accelerated, and in one smooth motion the car mounted the sidewalk, next to the van and out the other side loose, with the agility of the animal. The demon car had nine lives. Perhaps because of all this confusion, however, all that panic, disrupted services had been put in the petrol pumps much more power. It would be funny.
looked at the clock. Would it be worthwhile to visit the customer? Hopefully find the establishment still open. If transit aid only if would assist if the transit time. But the traffic did not help. At Christmas time, even missing the gas, everybody goes out to hinder those who need work. And to see a cross uncrowded visit the client withdrew. Better would be to give any explanation in the office and leave for the evening. With so many doubts, had drifted far from the center. Gasoline burned to no avail. Finally, the tank was full. In a square in the back of the street you came down, he saw another queue of cars waiting their turn. He smiled with joy and accelerated, determined to go numb puffing against motorists who waited. But the car, twenty feet, pulled left, by itself, and stopped, gently, as if I sigh at the end of the queue. What the hell was that, if it had not decided to put more gas? What on earth was, if I had a full tank? He stared at the various counters, touching the steering wheel, costing recognize the car, and in this sequence of gestures moved the mirror and looked in the mirror. He saw that he was perplexed and felt he was right. Again distinguished himself in the mirror a car coming down the street with all the air going to put in line. Concerned about the idea of \u200b\u200bstaying there immobilized, when he was a full tank, moved quickly lever to reverse. The car will handle resisted and fled from the hands. A second later he was caught between its two neighbors. Damn. What would the car? I needed to take the workshop. A working now reversing itself and now there is a danger.
had spent more than twenty minutes when he move the car to the supplier. Saw him approach the employee and his voice choked by calling for refueling. At the same moment made an attempt to escape the shame, got a quick first and drove off. In vain. The car did not move. The man looked suspicious gas station, opened the tank and, after a few seconds, was to ask for money from a liter kept muttering. Then, the first entered without difficulty and the car moved, elastic, breathing slowly. Something does not go well in the car, on changes in the motor, any place, the devil knows. Or would lose its qualities as a leader? Or was sick? He had slept well in spite of everything, I had more concerns than any other day of his life. It would be best to withdraw for now from customers, not thinking about them during the day and stay in the office. He felt uneasy. All around the car vibrating structures deeply, not on the surface, but inside the steel and the engine worked with that inaudible sound of lungs filling and emptying, filling and emptying. At first, without knowing why, took to mentally trace a path that led him away from other stations, and when he noticed what he was doing was frightened, he feared not being right in the head. It was spinning, stretching and shortening path until he came in front of the office. Could park the car and sighed with relief. Cut the engine, took the key and opened the door. He was unable to leave.
thought that the tail of his coat had been locked, the leg had been held by the steering wheel hub, and made another move. Even sought the seat belt to see if it had inadvertently. No. The belt was hanging from one side, black casing and soft. What nonsense, he thought. I must be sick. If I can not leave is because I am sick. Could freely move his arms and legs, bend your trunk slightly according to the maneuvers, looking back, leaning slightly to the right, to the glove, but the back was attached to the seat. Not rigidly, but as a member joins the body. He lit a cigarette and suddenly worried about what the boss would say if you look out a window and I saw it installed there, inside the car, smoking, in no hurry to leave. A violent twist horn did close the door, which had opened down the street. When another car passed, slowly left the door open again, threw his cigarette out, seized with both hands on the wheel, made a sudden movement, violent. Useless. Did not even feel pain. The seat back gently grabbed him and held him prisoner. What was what was happening? Moved down the mirror and looked. No difference in the face. Only a vague distress barely mastered. Turning his face to the right, onto the sidewalk, he saw a little girl staring at the same time puzzled and amused. Then came a woman with a coat Winter in the hands, which she began, still staring. And the two walked away, while she fixed her neck and hair of the girl.
She looked at the mirror and knew what to do. But not here. There were people watching, people who knew him. Maneuvered to secede from the sidewalk, quickly drawing his door shut, and down the street as fast as he could. He had a plan, a very clear objective and reassured him that, and while he let go with a little smile that softened her grief.
noticed only when the petrol station was almost going to go ahead. He had a sign saying "exhausted" and the car followed her, with a minimum deviation, without slowing down. He would not think of the car. He smiled more. Was leaving the city and the suburbs were, was near the site looking. He went down a street under construction, turned left and right, to a desert road, between fences. It began to rain when the car stopped.
His idea was simple. Was to leave within the trench, removing the arms and body, slipping out of it, as does the snake when it leaves the skin. Before people would not have dared, but there alone, with a desert around, away from the city that lay behind rain, nothing easier. He was wrong, however. The coat was attached to the seat back in the same way that the jacket, the cardigan, shirt, the vest, skin, muscles, bones. Was this what he thought without thinking when ten minutes after writhing in the car screaming, crying. Desperate. He was imprisoned in the car. For more to spin the body out toward the opening of the door through which the rain came driven by sudden gusts and cold, as much as say the foot on the ledge of the gearbox, could not pull out of the seat. With both hands he took the roof and tried to get up. It was as if to lift the world. He leaned over the steering wheel, sobbing in terror. In their eyes the wipers, which had inadvertently set in motion amid the turmoil, ranged with a snap of a metronome. From a distance came the whistle of a factory. And then the curve of the road, appeared a man riding a bicycle, wearing a large piece of black plastic in which the rain dripped on the skin as a seal. The man who pedaled looked curiously into the car and followed, perhaps disappointed and puzzled to see a man alone and not the couple had seemed far away.
What was happening was absurd. Nobody had been imprisoned in this way in his own car, your own car. Should have a procedure either to get out. A force could not be. Perhaps in a workshop? No. How do you explain? Calling the police? And then? Would join the people, all looking, while the authority would pull him clearly by the arm and ask for assistance to those present, and it would be useless because the seat would subject him sweetly. I would reporters, photographers and would be displayed inside your car in every newspaper the next day, full of shame as a shorn animal, in the rain. He had find another way. Cut the engine and without interrupting gesture violently threw out, as one who attacks you by surprise. No results found. Was injured in the forehead and left hand, and pain caused vertigo that lasted, as a sudden and uncontrollable urge to urinate expanded, releasing endless hot liquid was poured and dripped between her legs to the floor of car . When he felt all of this began to mourn quietly, with a yelp, miserably, and so was until a skinny dog, come rain, was barking, without conviction, the car door.
clutch slowly, with heavy strokes of a dream the cave, and walked down the trail, trying not to think, in not letting the situation is depicted in understanding. A vaguely knew he had to find someone to help him. But who could it be? Do not want to scare his wife, but there was no other remedy. Maybe she got to discover the solution. At least not feel so miserably alone.
went back into town, watch for traffic lights, no sudden movements in the seat, as if to appease the powers that held him. Were more than two and the day was dark a lot. He saw three stations, but the car did not react. All had the sign of "exhausted." As we entered the city, was seeing abandoned cars in abnormal positions, with the red triangles placed in the rear window, a sign that in the past would damage but it meant, now, often, lack of gasoline. Twice saw groups of men pushing cars over curbs, with great gestures of irritation, the rain had not stopped yet.
When he finally reached the street where he lived, had to imagine what he would call his wife. He stopped the car in front of the portal, disoriented, almost on the verge of another breakdown. He waited for the miracle to happen that his wife came down for work and merit of his silent cry for help. He waited several minutes, until a curious child from the neighborhood approached and could ask, on the grounds of a coin to come up to the third floor and tell the lady who lived there her husband was downstairs waiting in the car. That may go quickly, it was very urgent. The boy rose and fell, said the lady was coming and ran away, having made the day.
The woman fell as she was always at home, had not even agreed to take an umbrella, and now stood in the doorway, hesitant, not wanting to divert his eyes to a dead rat on the curb, into the rat soft , bristling, doubting to cross the sidewalk in the rain, a little irritated against the husband who had driven down for no reason, when I could very well have gone to tell him what he wanted. But the husband called gestures from inside the car and she got scared and ran. He put his hand on the doorknob, rushing to escape the rain, and when he finally opened the door he saw before his face open her husband's hand, pushing it without touching it. Persistence and wanted to go, but he shouted that no, it was dangerous, and told him what happened, while she bowed, got back all the rain that fell and his hair disheveled and she twitched all horror face. And saw her husband, in that warm cocoon and tarnished it isolated in the world, full twisting in the seat to exit the car without success. He dared to take him by the arm and pulled, incredulous, and could not move from there. As it was too horrible to be believed, were silent staring, until she thought her husband was mad and pretended not to get out. I had to go to call someone for consideration, to take him to treat the madness. Cautiously, with many words, told her husband to wait a little, not take, was to seek help to let him out, and so could even eat together and she would call the office saying he was cold. And do not go to work afternoon. That is reassuring, the case did not matter, that took nothing.
But when she disappeared on the staircase, think again surrounded by people, the picture in the newspapers, the shame of having urinated down his legs, and still waited a few minutes. And while his wife was up phone calls to all parties, police, hospital, struggling to believe in her and not her voice, giving his name and that of her husband, and the color of the car and the brand and tuition, he could not stand the wait and imaginations, and started the engine. When the woman went back down, the car was gone and the rat had drained the curb, at last, and rolled down the sloping street, dragged down by the water flowing from drains. The woman screamed, but people soon appeared and it was very difficult to explain.
to dusk man ran through the town, past gas stations without stock, putting in queues without having decided, anxious because money was running out and did not know what might happen when they had more money and the car arches its next to a pump for more fuel. That did not happen simply because all gas stations began to close and the queues were still waiting only the next day, and then it was best not to flee even find gas stations open, not having to stop. In a very long and wide street, almost no other traffic, a police car sped up and overtook him and when he ahead, a guard waved him to stop. But he was again afraid and did not stop. Behind him he heard the police siren and saw too, come from not knowing where a uniformed motorcycle almost succeeded. But the car, his car, gave a snort, a powerful start, and left, a leap forward, access to a highway. The police followed him from afar, far more than ever, and when night closed there was no sign of them and the car rolled down another road.
was hungry. He had urinated again, too humiliated to be ashamed. And a little delirious, humbled, humiliated. Was declining on alternating consonants and vowels in an exercise obsessive unconscious and defended him from reality. Did not stop because they knew what was going to stop. But early in the morning, twice, approached the car to the curb and tried to go slowly, as if in the meantime the car and he had reached a peace agreement and it was time to give proof of good faith of each. Twice he spoke softly when the seat held it twice tried to convince the car so that he might leave for good, twice in the night, icy wasteland where the rain never stopped, broke into cries, howls, in tears, in blind despair. The wounds of the head and hands to bleed again. And sobbing, choking, moaning like a frightened animal, he continued driving the car. Letting drive.
traveled all night, not knowing where. Crossed populations that did not see the name, covered long straight up and down mountains, made and broke ties and unlinking of curves, and when the morning began to emerge was in any part on a ruined road, where rainwater was collected in puddles bristling on the surface. The engine was snoring powerfully, pulling the wheels in the mud, and the whole structure of the car vibrated with a haunting sound. The morning opened completely, when the sun came to show, but the rain stopped suddenly. The road was transformed into a simple way forward, every moment, seemed lost among the stones. Where was the world? In the eyes was the mountains and a sky surprisingly low. Screamed and hit with fists closed wheel. It was at that moment when he saw that the pointer of the fuel tank was above zero. The engine seemed to tear himself and pulled the car twenty meters. The road appeared once again there, but gasoline was over.
forehead was covered with cold sweat. A wave of nausea came over him and shook him from head to foot, a veil covered her eyes three times. Groping, he opened the door to freedom from the suffocation that came and, with that movement, because it was to die or because the engine had died, the body hung on the left side and slipped the car. He slipped a little and was lying on the stones. The rain had started falling again. End
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