Cat Country (12 page)

The arrangement of the city itself was the simplest that I’d yet encountered. There was nothing you could really call a street, for other than an apparently endless line of dwellings, there was just a kind of highway or, perhaps one ought to say, empty square. If one kept in mind what the layout of a Cat Country army camp was like, one could well imagine the layout of the city: an immense open square with a row of houses down the middle, totally devoid of colour and utterly drowned in Cat People. This was what they called ‘Cat City’. There were crowds of people, but one couldn’t tell exactly what they were doing. No one walked in a straight line, and everyone got in each other’s way. Fortunately the streets were wide, and when it was no longer possible to go forward, people could switch to walking sideways as they crowded past one another.

It was as though the single row of houses formed a breakwater against which a tide of people pounded. I still don’t know whether they had house numbers or not. But if we assume they did, then a man who wanted to go from number five to number ten would have to zig-zag his way for at least three miles. Once outside his own door, he’d be crowded into a sideways progress and simply float along on the tide until he arrived at his destination. If by chance the direction of the tide should change before he got there, he’d be crowded home again. However, if he hit things just right, he would probably make it to number ten. But, of course, one can’t always be sure of hitting things just right, and occasionally he might be crowded back and forth so much that he would be taken even farther from his destination and might well fail to even make it home that day.

There was a reason that the city had just one row of buildings. I worked that reason out somewhat as follows. I assumed that in the beginning there must have been several rather narrow streets. Crowding about in the narrow lanes had doubtless resulted in wasting a good deal of time, and had probably cost a number of lives to boot. You see, in the eyes of the Cat People, yielding the right of way was considered to be most disgraceful, and keeping to one side of the street was seen as incompatible with their freedom-loving spirit. Thus, if they had built houses on both sides of the street, they would be forever bottled up between them, and it is likely that the bottleneck wouldn’t break up before one row of the houses had collapsed under the pressure of the crowd. And thus it was, I concluded, that they had built their houses in one long line, making the streets on either side infinitely wide. While they hadn’t completely solved the problem of crowding quite yet, at least no more lives were lost. To be sure, crowding ten miles out and back in the course of a short trip took you out of your way a bit, but it didn’t place you in any mortal danger. Therefore we can cite this new and less dangerous arrangement as another piece of testimony to the humane spirit of the Cat People.

Furthermore, crowding along in this manner wasn’t all that unpleasant. Besides, when people crowded you off your feet and carried you along in the press, you were, in effect, getting free transportation. In all honesty, I must admit that this explanation is merely my own hypothesis and I dare not vouch for its correctness. To make a solid case for my theory, I’d have to go back and see whether or not I could, in fact, find traces of the old streets that I assume were there previously.

If it were simply a matter of crowding, it wouldn’t have been all that unusual. But I discovered that the tide didn’t merely roll to the left and right, but even had its risings and fallings! As I was watching the Cat City crowd, a pebble on the road caught someone’s eye and an entire group of Cat People suddenly squatted down to examine it, thus occasioning an eddy on the surface of the tide. It was as though, come hell or high water, they just had to see that pebble. Soon they changed from a squatting position to a sitting one, and all around them more and more people began to squat, making the eddy grow larger and larger. Those in back, of course, could not see the stone, and, as they pushed forward, those who had been seated were crowded to their feet again. The more people crowded, the higher up those who’d been sitting in front were pushed, until they were finally on top of their neighbours’ heads. Suddenly everyone forgot the pebble, stood up and threw their heads back to watch those who now rested on their neighbours’ heads, thus filling the eddy up again.

As though decreed by fate, two old friends happened to meet at the edge of the eddy that had just filled in. They immediately sat down for a chat and those around them also sat down to listen in on the conversation. This, of course, occasioned another eddy. Then the bystanders who were listening in began chipping in with their opinions and before long, a brawl ensued, causing the eddy to expand suddenly. As the fighting continued, the eddy kept getting larger and larger until it reached the edge of another eddy that had formed when two old men decided to play a game of chess on the street. Now the two eddies became one, and as more and more people began to watch the chess game, the brawl died out. But before the bystanders had a chance to start chipping in, the chess-game-eddy was possessed of a fleeting stability.

This cat-tide was interesting enough itself, but the best was yet to come. A large crack suddenly appeared in the tide that reminded one of the parting of the Red Sea when the Israelites crossed it. Had it not been for a similar miracle, I can’t possibly imagine how Scorpion’s reverie leaf formation could have got through the tide intact, since its destination – Scorpion’s home – was smack dab in the centre of Cat City.

Backtracking a bit, let me explain how it was that this miracle came about. One would have expected that as Scorpion’s formation neared the city, they would have devised some way of skirting the edges of that sea of cats while they jockeyed for a position from which they might work their way to his home. But no! With seven of them bearing Scorpion on their heads, they plunged headlong into the cat-surf! Then music was struck up. At first I thought it was a signal for the pedestrians to clear a right of way. But as soon as they heard the music, rather than shrinking back, the people all began crowding over in the direction of the reverie leaf formation until they were packed as tight as sardines in a can. I thought it would be a miracle if Scorpion’s men ever made it through.

But Scorpion was much more capable than I had imagined.
Bump-ba dump-dump-dump, bump-ba dump-dump-dump
– lively as a roll of drums in a Chinese military opera, the clubs of the soldiers came down on the heads of the Cat People and a crack began to appear in the cat-tide. Thus Scorpion made his own Red Sea miracle. Strange to say, the people’s eagerness to see what was going on was not abated one whit by the clubs, although they did fall back to open up a path as they kept smiling at the formation. The clubs, however, didn’t stop merely because of this friendly reception, but continued with a
bump-ba dump-dump-dump
. By dint of careful observation, I was able to make out a difference between the city cats and the country cats: the city cats had a bald spot where a part of the skull had been replaced by a steel plate at the centre of the head, which also doubled as a drum – clear evidence they had long experience of having their heads drummed by soldiers while watching exciting public spectacles, for experience is never the product of a single, fortuitous occurrence.

Originally, I’d thought the soldiers were beating heads as they walked along merely to open up a path; but it turned out that this drum playing also served another purpose. You see, the victims of all this drum playing were not exactly angels themselves. None of those who were hindmost were willing to stay at the back, and would push, kick, crowd and even bite in order to make their way in the world and become foremost. Those who were already foremost, on the other hand, kicked back with their heels, poked back with their elbows and leaned back hard in order to keep the hindmost in their proper place. Now the soldiers didn’t beat those who were in the front rows exclusively; they also reached out with their clubs and played a
bump-ba dump-dump-dump
on the cat-heads in back. Thus all the heads hurt and this made them forget somewhat the pain they were causing each other. And so the soldiers’ drumming served to reduce the hostility the spectators felt for each other. One may call this method ‘treating pain with pain.’

I was completely wrapped up in watching them. To tell the truth, they exerted a compelling, though melancholy, attraction over me. It seemed that I just had to watch them. I was so taken up with observing them that I didn’t pay attention to what the row of houses in the centre of the square was like. I already knew that whatever they were like, they certainly couldn’t be beautiful, for a foul stench continuously emanated from them. Now it may be possible for beauty to exist in the midst of filth, but I for one don’t think so. I can’t conceive, for instance, of a Taj Mahal resplendent beneath a coat of black mud and foul water. The people on the street didn’t do much to improve things either. Whenever I approached them, they immediately cried out and shrank back as far as the throng would allow; but then they would quickly rush back towards me again, a clear indication that the fear and respect that city dwellers felt for foreigners was not quite as intense as that of the country folk. Having dissipated their fear and surprise by crying out, the city dwellers then felt brave enough to come up to me and give me the once-over. If I’d stood still on the road, I would certainly never have been able to move again, for they’d have surrounded me so closely that you wouldn’t have been able to get a drop of water between us.

Ten thousand fingers kept pointing at me. The Cat People are very straightforward: if they see anything fresh and new, they simply point it right out with their fingers. Still unable to completely rid myself of the vanity of a human being from Earth, I was most uncomfortable. I longed to take wing and fly away to some quiet, peaceful spot where I might sit and rest for a while. My courage was gone and I simply didn’t dare to raise my head. Although I am not a poet, I still possess a certain degree of the poet’s sensitivity, and it seemed that these fingers and eyes were about to watch me away or point me away like a melting piece of ice. They made me feel like a thing, with no personality left. But there are two sides to everything, and my not daring to raise my head also had its advantages. The road was uneven, covered with potholes and strewn with stinking lumps of mud. If I were to walk with my head up, I would make the lower half of my body as dirty as a pig. In spite of their very long history, it seemed that the Cat People had never once repaired their roads.

Fortunately, I finally arrived at Scorpion’s house. It was only at this point that I had understood that the houses in Cat City were not much better than that little hole I’d lived in in the reverie forest.

WE FOREIGNERS HAD BETTER STICK TOGETHER

S
CORPION
’
S RESIDENCE
was right in the middle of town, with high walls on all four sides, and no windows or doors. The sun was already about to set and the crowd on the street was gradually thinning out, so I could see clearly now that the houses both to my right and left were all four-sided affairs without windows or doors.

Several cat-heads appeared above the walls, but after a few shouts from Scorpion, they all disappeared again. Then after a bit, they came up again and lowered down several thick ropes with which they hoisted the reverie leaves over the wall, one bundle at a time. It turned dark and not a single person was left on the streets. Once the majority of bales had been hauled in, the soldiers became impatient and were obviously nervous. I surmised that, despite their excellent vision in the dark, the Cat People didn’t like working at night.

Treating me with the utmost courtesy once again, Scorpion asked if I would be willing to stay outside all night and guard the bales of reverie leaves that hadn’t yet been hauled inside. He explained that the soldiers would have to return since it was very late already.

It occurred to me that if only I had a flashlight, this would be an excellent opportunity to take a night tour of Cat City all by myself. Unfortunately, both my flashlights were still in the spacecraft; moreover, both had no doubt been smashed in the crash. Even though I had originally looked forward to staying with Scorpion so I might see the inside of his house, I agreed. Judging from the experience I had gained through living in the reverie forest, sleeping inside wouldn’t necessarily be any more comfortable than sleeping in the open air. Scorpion, pleased with my assent, dismissed the soldiers and pulled himself back over the wall on one of the big ropes.

I was left alone. A gentle breeze was blowing and the stars were twice as bright as usual. There was a strong hint of autumn in the air and I felt in good spirits. Unfortunately, there was a foul-smelling ditch outside the house that prevented me from tranquilly enjoying the hush of evening. I tore open one of the bales and ate a few of the leaves, partially in order to dispel my hunger and partially in order to withstand the foul air.

I started wandering around and unconsciously began to think about a number of questions. Why was it that the Cat People were so raucously conspicuous during the day yet so quietly hidden away at night? Was it a sign that the society was not secure? So many people all skulking into this single row of houses with no ventilation, no light, nothing but flies, foul air, and filth – was that living? Why were there no windows or doors? Why of course! It must be that they were afraid of thieves! They had tossed hygiene to the wind for the sake of security; and yet such filth would breed diseases that would plunder their very lives from within. Once more I saw the giant finger of destruction pointed down at Cat City, and I trembled a bit.

A contagious disease like cholera or scarlet fever could sweep this entire city clean of all traces of life within a single week! The more I looked at the city, the uglier it was to me: a large ugly shadow under starlight that issued not the slightest sound, but only gave off a foul stench.