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

when I finally thought of the answer, that it had taken me so long. But the moment it occurred to
me, I knew I had it.
Get any book for free on: www.Abika.com THE CATAAAA 11
"Man," I said, "is primarily a religious animal. From times too remote to be a written record, he
has needed a faith in something. Once, he believed almost entirely in animate gods like rivers,
storms, plants, then his gods became invisible; now they are once more becoming animate. An
economic system, science--whatever it will be, the dominating article of it will be that he
worships it without regard to reason, in other words in a purely religious fashion.
I finished with a quiet satisfaction, "All you need is an image of a man in a durable metal, his
head tilted back, his arms raised to the sky, a rapt expression on his face, and written on the base
of the inscription, 'I believe'."
I saw that the creature was staring at me. "Very interesting," it said at last. "I think you are very
close to it, but you haven't quite got the answer."
It stood up. "But now I want you to come with me."
"Eh?"
"Dress, please."
It was unemotionally said. The fear that had been held deep inside me for minutes came back
like a fire that had reached a new cycle of energy.
I DROVE MY car. The cat sat beside me. The night was cool and refreshing, but dark. A
fraction of a moon peered out occasionally from scurrying clouds, and there were glimpses of
star filtered dark blue sky. The realization that, from somewhere up there, this creature had come
down to our earth dimmed my tenseness. I ventured:
"Your people--have they progressed much further than we to the innermost meaning of truth?"
It sounded drab and precise, a pedagogical rather than a vitally alive question. I added quickly:
"I hope you won't mind answering a few questions."
Again it sounded inadequate. It seemed to me in an abrupt agony of despair that I was muffing
the opportunity of the centuries. Silently, I cursed my professional training that made my every
word sound as dry as dust.
"That card," I said. "You sent that?"
"Yes." The machine on the cat's lap spoke quietly but clearly.
"How did you know my address and my name?"
"I didn't."
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Before I could say anything, the cat went on, "You will understand all that before the night's
over."
"Oh!" The words held me for a second. I could feel the tightness crawling into my stomach. I had
been trying not to think of what was going to happen before this night was over. ". . Questions?"
I croaked. "Will you answer them?"
I parted my lips to start a machine gun patter of queries. And then, I closed them again. What did
I want to know? The vast implications of that reply throttled my voice. Why, oh, why, are human
beings so emotional at the great moments of their lives? I couldn't think, for what seemed an
endless time. And when I finally spoke again, my first question was trite and not at all what I
intended. I said:
"You came in a spaceship?"
The cat looked at one thoughtfully. "No," it replied slowly. "I use the energy in my brain."
"Eh! You came through space in your own body?"
"In a sense. One of these years human beings will make the initial discoveries about the rhythmic
use of energy. It will be a dazzling moment for science."
"We have," I said, "already made certain discoveries about our nervous systems and rhythm."
"The end of that road," was the answer, "is control of the powers of nature. I will say more about