"Джон Мур "День воскрешения"" - читать интересную книгу автора

He was a professor of chemistry at a small college in a medium-sized town,
not very high on the scale of importance (neither the professor nor the
college nor the town), yet the managed to turn every society in the world
upside down with a single discovery. He claimed that it came to him in a
dream, a none-too-complex biochemical formula involving several amino
acids and other organic compounds, all easy to obtain and all in moderate
proportions. He mixed up a flask of the stuff and performed the experiment
from his dream.

The substance came out as a sticky, transparent syrup, smelling faintly of
mint (this puzzled the professor, but could never be explained). Quick
tests showed that, as in his dream, the stuff was an excellent conductor
of electricity. Within the hour he took the next step: a biology lab
provided the corpse of a cat (intended for dissection the following day),
which he carried back to his chemicals and coated liberally with the
organic syrup. The step-down transformer used in electrochemical
experiments was set at the dreamed-of level, a voltage not much greater
than that of an automobile battery, the alligator clips were attached to
the stiff feline at ears and tail, and the power was switched on. The cat
glowed briefly as the conductant syrup absorbed energy, the shivered and
began to yowl as life returned and the electricity became hurtful. The
professor quickly cut power, and the now frantic cat tore itself loose
from the clips and escaped into the hall, tail flared out like a bottle
brush. The professor expressed no jubilation but a smile, and turned to
the telephone to contact a national news service.

Of course they did not believe him. He finally convinced the reporter to
bring a camera and see, pointing out that if it did not work, it would
still be a humorous story of a "mad scientist". The professor offered to
sign any release forms before he demonstrated his experiment.

The reporter and a cameraman arrived the next day to find the professor
standing by with a team of veterinarians and a corpse of a large but
pitifully thin yellow tabby cat. The professor touched the rumpled fur
gently and signaled the cameraman to begin taping. "This was Max, my cat
and friend of six years. He. . . he died two nights ago from feline
leukemia, an incurable and always fatal illness. I didn't get him
innoculated like I should. . . . " The man seemed to want to say more, but
turned away and waved to the veterinarians, who solemnly examined and
officially declared the cat to be dead. The rigid body was dipped in a pan
of the chemical syrup, the clips were attached, and the button was
pressed. There was a glow and startled hiss, and the reporter stared in
shock as the cat struggled against its straps. The cameraman captured it
all, from the tearful grin of the professor to the gaping astonishment of
the veterinarians to the furious fur-smoothings of the indignant cat. The
reporter managed to do a credible story, tinged as it was with awe and
lingering disbelief, and the wire services carried it globally. The
nations of the world shouted, they applauded, they planned and they
demanded that honors be heaped upon the professor. He accepted each
acclamation with haughtiness, and always with the now fat and purring