Some read it as an Orwellian vision of the future, others as a series of nightmares [FRAGMENT]

It is a structurally ambiguous novel: because – whether we are dealing with one narrator or one narrator, or perhaps many speaking people – is not even once clear. However, it is known for certain that the stories shown to us take place in a nightmarish world where devotion to any form of creativity is ruthlessly stigmatized and threatens its author with irreversible consequences.

Dick’s prose encourages free interpretation – some read it as an Orwellian vision of the future, others want to see it as a series of phenomenally outlined nightmares, and still others – a metaphor for the creative struggles of the author herself.

Kay Dick “Oni”, translated by Dorota Konowrocka-Sawa, Art Rage – excerpt:

Guests

I am the first person to notice them.

“Maybe they just miss us,” Sandy once said. – We provide rare entertainment.

Too late to turn back. I walk towards them and the sun is shining in my face. There are nine of them on the beach. Three breakwaters away, Sandy is painting her boat. Eight stretched on coastal pebbles, the ninth knelt and looked at Sandy. My dog ​​is barking at them. This is the first day of spring. The sun rolls over my skin like warm water, the sea is frozen silver against a curved horizon. The cormorant dives and emerges almost frivolously out of the water. I pass them smiling. It is for the best. One of them gets up and, without taking off their clothes, climbs the belt into the water. One of the girls laughs.

– Tomorrow I will put another coat. Sandy pats the boat.

– Are you gonna leave?

– I’d rather not. – He’s packed his tools. – Let’s have some tea at Judith’s.

Berg is currently working in a greenhouse. He’s waving at us. Judith’s mother is playing solitaire in the living room, in the same corner by the window as usual. The boys make a yellow ‘moran dives and emerges almost frivolously out of the water. I pass them smiling. It is for the best. One of them gets up and, without taking off their clothes, climbs the belt into the water. One of the girls laughs.

– Tomorrow I will put another coat. Sandy pats the boat.

– Are you gonna leave?

– I’d rather not. – He’s packed his tools. – Let’s have some tea at Judith’s.

Berg is currently working in a greenhouse. He’s waving at us. Judith’s mother is playing solitaire in the living room, in the same corner by the window as usual. The boys are making a yellow-blue kite. Sandy offers them her help. An Italian woman enters with a tray piled high with cups, followed by Judith. A Siamese cat snorts at my dog.

“In the afternoon three came to the kitchen door,” says Judith. – The cook gave them some cookies and fruit.

“I knew Yeats once,” says Judith’s mother.

– Tomorrow we will test the kite.

The younger boy holds it high for us to see.

– I hope it will continue to be calm. Judith is upset. – Maybe they’ll move.

“They probably had it on the way,” Sandy says, as if nothing is happening.

– They asked the cook how many people live here.

The uneasiness can still be heard in Judith’s voice.

– You guys are family. It should be enough for them.

Sandy attaches another string to the kite

“It’s the two of you I’m worried about,” says Judith.

The phone is ringing. We hear Berg picking up. The boys are going to the garden.

“They recognize the area,” says Berg, entering the room. – Normal tactic.

At first living alone was not easy, acclimatization was progressive. But once you got over it, you could enjoy the benefits. It took me many years to figure out how to make use of them. I think about it when we return to my house with Sandy.

– You’ve always lived alone, haven’t you? – I’m asking.

– Yes. But friends stop by from time to time. It is refreshing and uplifting.

– Man needs time for himself.

– Surely.

I know exactly what he means. It hardly blows, the evening air hardly moves. In such circumstances, every sound sounds like a gunshot. As we approach the beach, we hear them laugh.

“Sometimes I envy Judith,” I say.

– Families?

It is not so much a question as a statement.

– Yes but…

– Not all the time, is it?

– It’s nice to have them on hand. Available.

– Unobtrusive.

Sandy stays for dinner. We talk to the first one.

“You’re not worried, are you?” He asks hesitantly.

“Not at all,” I say, laughing. – I can always call you.

– They make decisions by the minute. They may be gone from here by morning.

He wishes me a good night.

“I think,” says Judith, as I make my coffee the next morning, “that staying with us for a few days would be reasonableness on your part.”

– That would be panic.

– There are more of them. More will bring them here, I want to say that. Berg heard that they were wreaking havoc inland. They did not spare a single person living alone.

– That’s unusual. – I try to be calm. – They’re usually not that scrupulous. Several people will always sneak past.

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