The contemplation of personhood within this text is so interesting! The shed in this story becomes more than a storage place, but an animate being whose feelings and actions are relayed to us. The level of personal awareness in Number XII is amazing. Pelevin writes:
The Night after the painting (when he had been given his Roman numeral, his name–the other sheds around him all had ordinary numbers), he held up his tar-papered roof to the moon as he dried. “Where am I?” he thought. “Who am I?” (48)
These questions guide the story, as Number XII tries to find more meaning in his life than just being a storage unit. The distinction of the shed’s name, color, and use from the other storage spaces emphasizes the shed’s individuality. When Number XII talked with the garage, Number 13 and 14, he realized that they were pessimistic and squandered Number XII’s thoughts and aspirations. Number XII also saw difference in how he was used: to store bicycles and other hardware, where the others housed food and other agricultural products. I think it is another interesting point that Number XII dreams of being a bicycle, to rush along deserted highways into the sunset– to be in constant motion. This contrasts from his companions, who believe it is a ridiculous dream and want nothing more than to stay sedentary–without motion. Number XII’s fight to retain his individuality is intensified when the other sheds constantly criticize and talk among themselves. This is further complicated when the bicycles are replaced with a barrel of pickled cucumbers that are wheeled through Number XII’s doors. Slowly, Number XII’s mind is transformed by the stench of fermenting cucumbers, in which he is changed to be more like Number 13 and 14. Once again, Number XII provides insight to his personal thoughts, stating:
On the one hand, he felt himself the equal of Numbers 13 and 14, and yet on the other hand, buried somewhere deep inside him, there remained a sense of terrible injustice about what had happened to him. But his new existence’s center was located in the barrel, which emitted the constant gurgling and crackling sounds that had replaced the imagined whooshing of tires over concrete ( 54).
I think the questions and thoughts that Number XII’s story conjures is an important one. One may be drawn to self-reflection; are we true to our goals, or are we shaped by our environment?