STRANGE SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY OMNIBUS (11 page)

The destruction of the super computer was followed swiftly by the collapse of human civilization around the world. Power systems failed; transportation networks crumbled. Produce lay rotting in the fields while urban populations starved. The earth’s population was literally decimated, and then decimated again. One of the last survivors was Oates, who lived on comfortably for some time on his remote Pacific isle, subsisting on the fish specimens that had been collected as part of his project.

With the demise of the human race, other species vied viciously to become the dominant life form on the planet. The competition was finally won by the genus rattus, known commonly as the rat. Key factors in the rat’s victory were its high level of intelligence, small size, which enabled it to subsist on a minimum of food and its ability to eat a wide variety of food stuffs. Those few humans who exist today, do so as house pets in rat households, where they are usually well treated. There are occasionally unconfirmed reports about isolated humans surviving in the wild, most often in the jungles of New Guinea.

Hope Treason had reached the age of forty-three still a spinster, despite the many amorous escapades she had engaged in as a young woman. Unfortunately, none of the men she had met had satisfied the high levels she had in her mind. They all lacked the necessary level of intelligence, sense of humor, pleasant personality and solid financial footing. As a result, she was now living alone in her little town house in the prestigious northwest part of our nation’s capital known as Georgetown, with her pet cat Rasputin as her only live-in companion. She had no close friends other than several of her ex-beaux, whose occasional companionship she continued to enjoy, even as they dated or married women with lower standards than Hopes’.

Hope held a senior, rather well paid position in the administrative side of the State Department. This was not related at all to her extensive knowledge of international affairs or to her having earned a Ph.D. degree in Russian history from one of the Ivy League universities. Both her parents held professorial posts in international relations, and from early childhood she had wanted to follow in their footsteps.

Her graduation from the university had unfortunately coincided with one of the temporary economic slumps that afflict the American economy, so that university teaching positions that year were difficult to obtain. As the weeks of unemployment turned into months, she began applying for virtually any job that seemed appropriate. When she went for a personal interview which was part of the State Department procedures for job applicants, she had absolutely no expectation of being hired. Her appearance at the interview was solely aimed at honing her performance for potential future interviews.

Much to her surprise, Hope had been hired for the post. She now headed a unit of the Department providing technical support to one of the Department’s Bureaus. Her unit comprised some twenty-two employees of various grades, organized into four sections.

Hope found the work both extremely boring and frustrating. She had little interest in the technical matters which she now had to supervise. Even worse, all of her staff was of very low competence, with no interest in improving their performance. They had been hired as a result of pressure on their behalf from influential members of Congress or from powerful political donors and regarded their jobs as sinecures

The low level of their performance was not in itself particularly important. Very little of the work demanded of her unit actually was necessary, mostly consisting of periodic reports on inventory levels that were never read by their recipients. Hope, however, was acutely aware of her employees’ failure to perform the requests laid down and so did them all herself, usually after one or more of her staff had turned in unacceptable responses.

One Tuesday morning, after some three and a half frustrating years on the job, Hope was seated at her desk laboring away when she realized she had left at home a report she had been drafting there the previous evening. As it was almost lunch time, she got up, left her office and went down to her car in the State Department garage. She was senior enough to enjoy a reserved parking space, so she envisioned no problem in driving to her nearby house in Georgetown, retrieving the draft report, and returning to her office within the sixty minutes officially allotted for lunch. Hope did not take this step lightly. The State Department Executive Dining Room, to which Hope was granted access because of her rank, usually served stewed apples on Tuesdays, and it was a dish she especially enjoyed.

The traffic that day was unusually heavy, and she was then obliged to park several blocks away from her house because the parking spaces along her street were occupied. By the time she reached her home, she was feeling sorry she had started on the trip. Climbing the front steps, Hope unlocked the door and stepped in. To her amazement she heard someone speaking. It was obviously coming from the second floor, from the smaller of the two bedrooms which she had turned into an office.

Hope was frightened. Someone must have broken in. She had no weapon in her house, but armed herself with a large kitchen knife and quietly crept upstairs. She peaked into the small bedroom and was shocked by what she saw and heard. Her pet cat, Rasputin was seated at her desk speaking into what appeared to be a small transmitter.

“This is Xilback Four calling Xilback Controller” she heard him say, “Come in, please. This is an emergency message. Come in, please. My ship has crashed on earth and cannot be repaired. Request immediate retrieval.” Rasputin kept repeating these words, apparently receiving no response.

Hope stood there silently for a minute, then silently crept back downstairs and tiptoed out of the house. Sitting in her car, she found she still had the kitchen knife with her. She placed it on the front seat, looked at her watch, and realized she had to rush to get back to her office on time.

Back at her desk, Hope found it impossible to work. She could not get out of her mind the image of Rasputin speaking that strange message repeatedly into a transmitter. Had she really seen it, or had it been a dream?

This was no small matter to Hope. She loved Rasputin. She had grown up in a house with a cat, her parents favoring them as pets. When she had left her family home and moved to Washington to work at the State Department, she had thought about acquiring a pet cat for herself. Only concern that she might not be able to provide adequate care for a pet if she went away to the beach during the summer weekends had dissuaded her.

Actually, it is not as though Hope adopted Rasputin. Rather, the cat had adopted her. Their meeting occurred one morning, about six months after Hope had moved in. She was rushing on her way to the State Department, opened her front door, and was amazed to see the top step occupied by a sorry looking black and orange striped cat. It looked the worse for wear much. Its fur was dirty and in clumps, a scab covering a sore on its back. Hope had a tender heart, and she had been conditioned by her parents to treat house cats very much like unfortunate people.

As might have been predicted, she scooped the animal up in her arms, carried it to her kitchen, and attempted to clean it up, using warm water and a paper towel. The cat surprisingly submitted to her ministrations and even purred. It was getting quite late, so Hope gave the cat a saucer of milk, left it drinking happily and rushed off to the State Department.

Hope had one of her frequently frustrating days at the office and returned home exhausted. Her only thought was to kick off her shoes, take a hot bath and go to bed. Going upstairs to her bedroom, she was amazed to see the cat curled up, sleeping happily on her bed. While she had been gone, the cat had somehow managed to clean itself up. The orange and black fur looked quite clean, and the sore on its back had disappeared.

The cat awakened, lifted its head and stared at her. It looked much like any other stray cat one might glimpse on the street except for one thing; its eyes were a brilliant green, with flecks of gold. It purred, stood up, and Hope realized that although it was no longer than the average domestic cat, it was surprisingly slender and stood some fifty percent taller.

“I wonder what species it is?” she asked herself. “It’s quite an unusual one. I will have to look it up.”

Hope saw further than the cat was obviously a male. This posed the question of what she should call him. All of the cat names she had carried in her mind were for female cats.

“What about George?” she asked him. “Do you like it?” The cat made no response. He exhibited a similar indifference to “Harry” and “Dexter.” Possibly he preferred more traditional CAT NAMES. “Is ‘Boots’ and better? Or ‘Whiskers’?”

Still no response. After some minutes, during which the cat stared at her, she thought about less common names he might prefer. Because of her studies in East European history, it was natural that her mind turned to that area for possible cat names. “Stalin” or “Lenin” might cause her problems with State Department Security. Then she had a brilliant idea. “How do you like ’Rasputin?’ she asked.

The cat meowed. His bright green eyes bore into hers. He seemed to blink one eye roguishly. “All right,” she said, “Rasputin it is.”

And so it was. Rasputin quickly became her best friend. No matter how tired she was from the office, each day when she arrived home she felt happy about the warm welcome she would receive from the cat. Sometimes, he would be sleeping quietly on her bed. More often, she would see him standing on the desk in her upstairs bedroom, peering through the window, looking for to get out of her car and come into the house.

Almost always, Rasputin would be waiting for her on the floor. As soon as she approached, he would leap up in one bound, grab her around the neck with his two front paws, and hug her warmly. Accompanying the leap would be a loud purring from the cat, which would last several minutes. Even if she attempted to put him on to the floor and feed him, he would resist until he obtained what he regarded as the proper amount of affection.

In the face of such heart-felt love and admiration, Hope began to spend most evenings at home with the cat, both of them sitting on the living room sofa, sharing a warm blanket, and watching television. Rufus would watch most programs with some interest, but surprisingly gave the greatest attention to network news shows.

Now, this feeling of comradeship with the cat seemed to be threatened. What she had seen indicated that Rasputin was not an ordinary cat, most probably not a cat at all. Cats, as far as is known, do not converse in English or speak into transmitters. How could she be friendly with that, whatever that was?

Returning from her office that night, Hope’s usual feeling of joyous expectation over the warm welcome from Rasputin was missing. She did not see him peering out from the bedroom window. Climbing the stair to her bedroom, she felt a sense of dread over what she might encounter. She entered the bedroom and, to her relief, found Rasputin curled up on her bed comfortably sleeping.

The cat opened his eyes, stared at her for a moment, then jumped off the bed and raced to her feet. Then he leaped straight up, grabbed her around the neck, and began purring loudly. How could she resist? She hugged him. In response, he nestled his nose in her cheek and began licking her with his tongue.

Clearly, Hope thought, she had imagined that bizarre scene that afternoon. Cats certainly do not speak English, certainly do not use transmitters. She fed him as usual and that night, the two of them enjoyed watching news programs on TV, curled up on the sofa and sharing the same blanket.

The next morning, Hope went off to the office and life at home resumed its normal course. Hope thought no more of what she now regarded as a fantasy until the day her credit card bill arrived. Before paying it, she always examined the items closely, insuring that nothing had been mistakenly charged to her account.

One source of billings that was always there was for the home delivery of pizzas. It was a dish she very much enjoyed, although to avoid undue consumption of junk food, Hope usually rationed herself to just one home delivery a week. Very often, she would find herself billed for five or six deliveries a month, but Hope ascribed the discrepancy to poor memory on her part.

This month, the bill listed six home deliveries. As she sat at her office desk, trying to recall exactly how many times she had had pizza last month, her eyes came across an entry which startled her, a $1,264 charge for a book from a London antique book dealer. This had to be a mistake. The book was entitled “Egyptian Scientific Monographs, Volume II.” Hope had not the least interest in Egyptian Scientific Monographs and had certainly not ordered it from the London dealer.

Out of curiosity, Hope looked up the book dealer on her computer. She not only found the dealer listed, but also a brief description of the book. It was published in 1808, with volume II devoted almost entirely to a discussion of an Eleventh Century manuscript on ancient Egyptian science. A footnote asserted that there were only three known copies of the work believed to be in existence and that the item in question was no longer available for purchase.

Hope straightaway called her credit card company and informed them that she had definitely not purchased the book and would deduct the $1,264 from the payment she was sending them. So good was her credit standing, that the credit card company had no wish to lose her as a customer. The charge for the book was removed from her account; Hope did not know or care how the obvious miss-billing had occurred.

A month or so later, Hope was at the office when she suddenly remembered it was her father’s birthday on that Friday. Whenever it was possible, she had always tried to be home with her parents to help celebrate their respective birthdays. This year, the press of business at the office would not permit her to visit home, but she had purchased a large umbrella as a birthday present for her father, since he loved to walk and frequently came home soaked from being caught out on a walk by a rainstorm. The umbrella, extremely light and easy to carry, would be something he could use to keep himself from getting drenched in a downpour.