The Eighth Science Fiction MEGAPACK ®: 25 Modern and Classic Stories by George R.R. Martin & Mike Resnick & Jay Lake & Pamela Sargent & Fritz Leiber

Author:George R.R. Martin & Mike Resnick & Jay Lake & Pamela Sargent & Fritz Leiber [Martin, George R.R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: science fiction
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2013-11-21T16:00:00+00:00

NEFERTITI’S TENTH LIFE, by Mary A. Turzillo

I lay on the cold table while my slaves petted me. Water dripped from their faces. Evil smells, dog piss, and antiseptic fluid, made my whiskers twitch feebly.

My female slave said, “And it will purr, and have fur, just like Nefertiti?”

And the bad doctor said, “It will be Nefertiti. It won’t be just a mechanical cat. It will have her Siamese meow, all her little tricks, her raspy tongue, her whiskers. Everything that makes a cat a cat. Except she’ll be younger, like when she was a kitten. And you can pet her, and play cat and mouse games with her.”

My man slave said, “What about catnip?”

“That’s a little more complicated. You’ll have to say catnip. The sensors aren’t attuned to odors, although they’re working on that. It’s possible you could get it installed later, when they bring out a new model.”

“It’s so hard to let her go.”

The bad doctor said, “It’s normal for you to grieve. But really, she’ll just go to sleep—and wake up in a new, more permanent body.”

They snuffled awhile.

“Shall I leave you two with her for a while?”

“No, no, we’re ready. We just—wanted to know what to expect.”

“This is the end of all her pain.” But it wasn’t quite. There was a claw prick in my neck, and then things stopped hurting, one by one. The ache in my back legs. The feeling that I had to piss all the time, even when nothing would come out. The heaviness in my chest. The burning in my gut. And I slept.

* * * *

When I wake up, I am lying on the slaves’ bed, which is where I like to nap. Lately, I have not been strong enough to leap up. They made the bed too high for me. Slaves do things like that.

I forget what woke me up. Maybe the screaming of the two women, the young one who is just old enough to compete for males and the old shrill one, who live next door. I got used to it before, so I didn’t notice it. Or maybe my hearing is better now.

I yawn, and stretch, and lick my fur. My fur has no taste, but I lick it anyway, to get good and clean after the bad doctor’s office. Then I hop off the bed and saunter down to where the slaves are watching their television. Yorick, my big yellow dog, is lying on the floor in his usual place. He opens his yellow eyes, sniffs me without interest, and goes back to sleep.

I let them watch television in the evening, because it keeps them busy when I’m occupied with other things.

But I don’t want them to get the idea they can get up and do something else when I want them. I pad over to the female slave and leap toward her lap.

But accidentally (am I so strong, now?), I leap past her and hit the table with the lamp. It crashes down, and she jumps up to straighten it.

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