"A. E. Van Vogt - The Cataaaa" - читать интересную книгу автора (Van Vogt A E)

as he would be now.
I returned to my chair, and sat musing about the past.
Even in those days, his name had fitted Silkey Travis. At high school he organized the bathing
beauty contest, and gave the first prize to his cousin and the second prize to the girl who was the
teacher's pet of most of the teachers. The students' science exhibition, a collection of local
lizards, snakes, insects and a few Indian artifacts was an annual affair, which brought a turnout
of admiring parents. Invariably, it was Silkey who organized it. Plays, holiday shows and other
paraphernalia of school pastimes felt the weight of his guiding hand and circus spirit.
After graduating from high school, I went on to State college to major in biology, and I lost sight
of Silkey for seven years. Then I saw an item in one of the papers to the effect that local boy
Silkey Travis was doing well in the big town, having just purchased a "piece" of a vaudeville
show, and that he also owned a "piece" in a beach concession in New Jersey.
Again, there was silence. And now, here he was, no doubt "piece" owner of the circus freak
show.
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3
THE CATAAAA 4
Having solved the mystery of the postcard, so it seemed to me, I felt amused and tolerant. I
wondered if Silkey had sent the card to all his former school companions. I decided not to puzzle
any more about the meaning of the words written on the back. The scheme behind them was all
too obvious.
Sitting there, I had absolutely no intention of going to the circus. I went to bed at my usual hour,
and woke up with a start some hours later to realize that I was not alone. The sensations that
came to me as I lay there have been described by Johnson in his book on morbid fears.
I lived in a quiet neighborhood, and the silence was intense. Presently, I could hear the labored
pounding of my heart. Poisons surged into my stomach; gas formed and leaked up to my mouth
bringing a bitter taste. I had to fight to keep my breath steady.
And still I could see nothing. The dark fears ran their courses, and the first thought came that I
must have had a nightmare. I began to feel ashamed of myself. I mumbled:
"Who's there?"
No answer.
I climbed out of bed, and turned on the light. The room was empty. But still I wasn't satisfied. I
went out into the hall, then I examined the clothes closet and bathroom. Finally, dissatisfied, I
tested the window fastenings--and it was there I received my shock. Painted on the outer side of
the pane of one of the windows were the letters:
"The cat requests that you come to the circus."
I went back to bed so furious that I thought of having Silkey arrested. When I woke up in the
morning the sign was gone from the window.
BY THE TIME breakfast was over, my temper of the night had cooled. I was even able to feel a
pitying amusement at the desperate desire of Silkey to let his old acquaintances know what a big
shot he was. Before starting off to my morning classes at State, I looked under my bedroom
window. I found what looked like footprints, but they were not human, so I decided that Silkey
must have taken care to leave no tracks of his own.
At class, just before noon, one of the students asked me whether there was any good explanation
in biological science for freaks. I gave the usual explanation of variabilities, nutritional
deficiences[sic], diseases, frustration of brain development affecting the shape of the body, and
so on. I finished drily that for further information I would direct him to my old friend, Silkey
Travis, director of freaks at the Pagley-Matterson circus.
The offhand remark caused a sensation. I was informed that a freak at this circus had prompted
the original question. "A strange, cat-like creature," the student said in a hushed voice, "that