Hugo Awards: The Short Stories Vol. 3 by Hugo Gernsback

Author:Hugo Gernsback [Gernsback, Hugo]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Science Fiction, Short Stories, Hugo Award, Fiction
ISBN: 9780137979028
Publisher: Jerry Ebooks
Published: 2017-11-19T05:00:00+00:00

It took me almost half the day to convince myself that what had happened the night before was just a dream. It wasn’t like any other dream I’d ever had, because I remembered every detail of it, every word she’d said, every gesture she’d made. Of course she hadn’t really visited me, but just the same I couldn’t get Priscilla Wallace out of my mind, so I finally stopped working and used my computer to try to learn more about her.

There was nothing more to be found under her name except for that single brief entry. I tried a search on Travels with My Cats and came up empty. I checked to see if her father had ever written a book about his explorations; he hadn’t. I even contacted a few of the hotels she had stayed at, alone or with her father, but none of them kept records that far back.

I tried one line of pursuit after another, but none of them proved fruitful. History had swallowed her up almost as completely as it would someday swallow me. Other than the book, the only proof I had that she had ever lived was that one computer entry, consisting of ten words and two dates. Wanted criminals couldn’t hide from the law any better than she’d hidden from posterity.

Finally I looked out the window and realized that night had fallen and everyone else had gone home. (There’s no night shift on a weekly paper.) I stopped by a local diner, grabbed a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee, and headed back to the lake.

I watched the ten o’clock news on TV, then sat down and picked up her book again, just to convince myself that she really had lived once upon a time. After a couple of minutes I got restless, put the book back on a table, and walked out for a breath of fresh air.

She was sitting on the porch swing, right where she had been the night before. There was a different cat next to her, a black one with white feet and white circles around its eyes.

She noticed me looking at the cat. “This is Goggle,” she said. “I think he’s exceptionally well-named, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” I said distractedly.

“The white one is Giggle, because he loves getting into all sorts of mischief.” I didn’t say anything. Finally she smiled. “Which of them has your tongue?”

“You’re back,” I said at last.

“Of course I am.”

“I was reading your book again,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever encountered anyone who loved life so much.”

“There’s so much to love!”

“For some of us.”

“It’s all around you, Ethan,” she said.

“I prefer seeing it through your eyes. It was like you were born again into a new world each morning,” I said. “I suppose that’s why I kept your book, and why I find myself re-reading it—to share what you see and feel.”

“You can feel things yourself.”

I shook my head. “I prefer what you feel.”

“Poor Ethan,” she said sincerely. “You’ve never loved anything, have you?”

“I’ve tried.

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