Cat's Pajamas Read Online Free PDF Page B

melodic.
    â€œThere,” said Annie proudly, pivoting toward her audience. “In the Martian language I just said, ‘Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.’”
    â€œWow,” said Klieg.
    â€œTerrific,” said Melvin.
    Annie turned back to the keyboard and called forth another unruly refrain.
    â€œThat meant, ‘There are two kinds of naïveté, the naïveté of optimism and the naïveté of pessimism,’” she explained.
    â€œWho would’ve guessed there could be so much meaning in cacophony?” I said.
    â€œTo a polar bear, the Arctic Ocean feels like a Jacuzzi,” said Rupert.
    Annie called forth a third strain—another grotesque non-melody.
    â€œAnd the translation?” asked Rupert.
    â€œIt’s an idiomatic expression,” she replied.
    â€œCan you give us a rough paraphrase?”
    â€œâ€˜Hi there, baby. You have great tits. Would you like to fuck?’”
    Melvin said, “The problem, of course, is that the Martians are likely to kill each other—along with the remaining population of New York—before we can decide conclusively which worldview enjoys the imprimatur of rationality.”
    â€œAll is not lost,” said Rupert.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I asked.
    â€œWe might, just might, have enough time to formulate strong arguments supporting a side of the controversy chosen… arbitrarily,” said Rupert.
    â€œArbitrarily?” echoed Annie, voice cracking.
    â€œArbitrarily,” repeated Rupert. “It’s the only way.”
    The four of us traded glances of reluctant consensus. I removed a quarter from my pants pocket.
    â€œHeads: revelation, God, the Phobes,” said Melvin.
    â€œTails: materialism, science, the Deems,” said Rupert.
    I flipped the quarter. It landed under Annie’s piano stool, frightening the cat.
    Tails.
    And so we went at it, a melee of discourse and disputation that lasted through the long, hot afternoon and well into evening. We napped on the floor. We pissed in the river. We ate cold soup and dry Raisin Bran.
    By eight o’clock we’d put the Deimosian worldview on solid ground—or so we believed. The gist of our argument was that sentient species emerged in consequence of certain discoverable properties embedded in nature. Whether Earthling or Martian, aquatic or terrestrial, feathered or furred, scaled or smooth, all lifeforms were inextricably woven into a material biosphere, and it was this astonishing and demonstrable connection, not the agenda of some hypothetical supernatural agency, that made us one with the cosmos and the bearers of its meaning.
    â€œAnd now, dear Annie, you must set it all to music,” I told the Communications Chairperson, giving her a hug.
    Rupert and Melvin decided to spend the night aboard the Folly to Be Wise, providing Annie with moral support and instant coffee while she labored over her translation. I knew that Valerie and Bobby would be worried about me, so I said my farewells and headed for home. So great was my exhilaration that I ran the whole three miles to Delancey Street without stopping—not bad for a weekend jogger.
    I’m writing this entry in our bedroom. Bobby’s asleep. Valerie wants to hear about my day, so I’d better sign off The news from Clarence Morant is distressing. Defeated in the Battle of Times Square, the Deimosians have retreated to the New York Public Library and taken up positions on the steps between the stone lions. The Phobosians are encamped outside Grand Central Station, barely a block away.
    There are over two million volumes in the New York Public Library, Morant tells us, including hundreds of irreplaceable first editions. When the fighting starts, the Martians will be firing their heat rays amidst a paper cache of incalculable value.
    AUGUST 13
    Phobos and Deimos. When Asaph Hall went to name his