The Ultimate Egoist

by Theodore Sturgeon

  “Emotional?” I yelled. “Damn it, what’s the matter with a little emotion now and then? What’s happening around here, anyway? Who’s the boss around here? Who pays the bills?”

  “You do,” said Helix gently, “which makes you all the more a fool. You wouldn’t catch me doing anything unless I thoroughly enjoyed it. Go away, Pete. You’re being childish.”

  I picked up a heavy ashtray and hurled it at the cat. He ducked it gracefully. “Tsk tsk! What an exhibition!”

  I grabbed my hat and stormed out, followed by the cat’s satiric chuckle.

  Never in my life have I been so completely filled with helpless anger. I start to do someone a favor, and what happens? I begin taking dictation from him. In return for that I do him an even greater favor, and what happens? He corrupts my cat. So I start taking dictation from the cat too.

  It wouldn’t matter so much, but I had loved that cat. Snicker if you want to, but for a man like me, who spends nine-tenths of his life tied up in test tubes and electrochemical reactions, the cat had filled a great gap. I realized that I had kidded myself—Helix was a conscienceless parasite, and always had been. But I had loved him. My error. Nothing in this world is quite as devastating as the realization of one’s mistaken judgment of character. I could have loved Helix until the day he died, and then cherished his memory. The fact that I would have credited him with qualities he did not possess wouldn’t have mattered.

  Well, and whose fault was it? Mine? In a way; I’d given in to Wally in his plan to remake the cat for his use. But it was more Wally’s fault. Damn it, had I asked him to come into my house and bottle? Who did he think he was, messing up my easy, uncomplicated life like that?… I had someone to hate for it all, then. Wallace Gregory, the rat.

  Lord, what I would have given for some way to change everything back to where it was before Gregory came into my life! I had nothing to look forward to now. If Wally succeeded in making the change, I’d still have that insufferable cat around. In his colossal ego there was no means of expressing any of the gentler human attributes which Wally might possess. As soon as he fused himself with the cat, Helix would disappear into the cosmos, taking nothing but his life force, and leaving every detestable characteristic that he had—and he had plenty. If Wally couldn’t make it, They would get him, and I’d be left with that insufferable beast. What a spot!

  Suppose I killed Helix? That would be one way … but then what about Wally? I knew he had immense potentialities; and though that threat of mine about throwing him into the ocean had stopped him once, I wasn’t so sure of myself. He had a brilliant mind, and if I incurred his hatred, there’s no telling what he might do. For the first time I realized that Wally Gregory’s soul was something of a menace. Imagine having to live with the idea that as soon as you died, another man’s soul would be laying for you, somewhere Beyond.

  I walked miles and hours that night, simmering, before I hit on the perfect solution. It meant killing my beloved Helix; but, now, that would be a small loss. And it would free Wallace Gregory. Let the man’s soul take possession of the cat, and then kill the cat. They would both be protected then; and I would be left alone. And, by golly, at peace.

  I stumbled home at four, and slept like a dead man. I was utterly exhausted and would have slept the clock around. But that would not have suited Helix. At seven-thirty that morning he threw a glass of ice water over me. I swore violently.

  “Get up, you lazy pig,” he said politely. “I want my breakfast.”

  Blind with fury, I rolled out and stood over him. He stood quite still, grinning up at me. He was perfectly unafraid, though I saw him brace his legs, ready to move forward or back or to either side if I made a pass at him. I couldn’t have touched him, and he knew it, damn him.

  And then I remembered that I was going to kill him, and my throat closed up. I turned away with my eyes stinging. “Okay, Helix,” I said when I could speak. “Comin’ up.”

  He followed me into the kitchen and sat watching me while I boiled us some eggs. I watched them carefully—Helix wouldn’t eat them unless they were boiled exactly two minutes and forty-five seconds—and then took his out and cut them carefully into cubes, the way he liked them. And then I put a little dash of catnip extract over them and dished them up. Helix raised his eyebrows at that. I hadn’t given him any catnip for weeks. I’d only used it as a reward when he had done especially well. Recently I hadn’t felt like rewarding him.

  “Well,” he said as he wiped his mouth delicately. “I see that little session of ambulating introspection in which you indulged after your outbreak last night did you good. There never need be any friction between us, Pete, if you continue to behave this way. I can overlook almost anything but familiarity.”

  I choked on a piece of toast. Of all the colossal gall! He thought he had taught me a lesson! For a moment I was tempted to rub him out right then and there, but managed to keep my hands off him. I didn’t want him to be suspicious.

  Suddenly he swept his cup off the table. “Call this coffee?” he said sharply. “Make some more immediately, and this time be a little careful.”

  “You better be careful yourself,” I said. “I taught you to say ‘please’ when you asked for anything.”

  “ ‘Please’ be damned,” said my darling pet. “You ought to know by this time how I like my coffee. I shouldn’t have to tell you about things like that.” He reached across the table and sent my cup to the floor too. “Now you’ll have to make more. I tell you, I won’t stand for any more of your nonsense. From now on this detestable democracy is at an end. You’re going to do things my way. I’ve taken too much from you. You offend me. You eat sloppily, and I never did care particularly for your odor. Hereafter keep away from me unless I call. And don’t speak unless you are spoken to.”

  I drew a deep breath and counted to ten very, very slowly. Then I got two more cups out of the closet, made more coffee, and poured it. And while Helix was finishing his breakfast, I went out and bought a revolver.

  When I got back I found Helix sleeping. I tiptoed into the kitchen to wash the dishes, but found them all broken. His idea of a final whimsical touch. I ground my teeth and cleaned up the mess. Then I went into the laboratory and locked the door. “Wally!” I called.

  “Well?”

  “Listen, fella, we’ve got to finish this up now—today. Helix has gotten it into his head that he owns the place, me included. I won’t stand for it, I tell you! I almost killed him this morning, and I will yet if this nonsense keeps up. Wally, is everything ready?”

  Wally sounded a little strained. “Yes … Pete, it’s going to be good! Oh, God, to be able to walk around again! Just to be able to read a comic strip, or go to a movie, or see a ball game! Well—let’s get it over with. What was that about Helix? Did you say he’s a little—er—intractable?”

  I snorted. “That’s not the word for it. He has decided that he is a big shot. Me, I only work here.”

  “Pete, did he say anything about—about me? Don’t get sore now, but—do you think it’s safe? If what you say is true, he’s asserting his individuality; I wouldn’t like that to go too far. You know, They have a hunch that something’s up. The last time you got me into Helix’s mind, there were swarms of Them around. When They sensed that I was making a change, They all drew back as if to let me get away with it. Pete, They have something up Their sleeve, too.”

  “What do you mean, ‘too’?” I asked quickly.

  “Why, nothing. Helix is one, They are another. Too. What’s the matter with that?”

  It didn’t relieve me much. Wally probably knew I was planning to kill the cat as soon as he made the change, thus doing him out of several years of fleshly enjoyment before he went on his way. He wasn’t saying anything, though. He had too much to lose.

  I took the bottle out of the laboratory into the kitchen and washed it, just by way of stalling for a minute. Then I set it down on the sink and went and got my gun, loaded it and dropped it into a drawer
in the bench. Next I set the bottle back on the bench—I was pretty sure Wally hadn’t known about the gun, and I didn’t want him to—and went for Helix.

  I couldn’t find him.

  The cushion where he had been sleeping was still warm; what was he up to now?

  I hunted feverishly all through the apartment, without success. This was a fine time for him to do a blackout! With an exasperated sigh I went back into the laboratory to tell Wally.

  Helix was sitting on the bench beside the bottle, twirling his whiskers with his made-over right paw and looking very amused. “Well, my good man,” he greeted me, “what seems to be the trouble?”

  “Damn it, cat,” I said irritably, “where have you been?”

  “Around,” he said laconically. “You are as blind as you are stupid. And mind your tone.”

  I swallowed that. I had something more important to think about. How was I going to persuade him to lick the bottle? Mere catnip wouldn’t do it, not in his present frame of mind. So—

  “I suppose,” Helix said, “that you want me to go through the old ritual of bottle-cataglottism again. Pardon the pun.”

  “Why, yes,” I said, surprised but trying not to show it. “It’s to your benefit, you know.”

  “Of course,” said the cat. “I’ve always known that. If I didn’t get something out of it, I’d have stopped doing it long ago.”

  That was logical, but I didn’t like it. “All right,” I said. “Let’s go!”

  “Pete!” Wally called. “This time, I want you to hold him very firmly, with both hands. Spread your fingers out as far as possible, and if you can get your forearms on him too, do it. I think you’ll learn something—interesting.”

  A little puzzled, I complied. Helix didn’t object, as I thought he might. Wally said, “Okay. They’re drawing away now. Get him to lick the bottle.”

  “All right, Helix,” I whispered tightly.

  The pink tongue flashed out and back. The bottle tipped the tiniest bit. Then there was a tense silence.

  “I … think … I’ll … make it …”

  We waited, Helix and I.

  Suddenly something deep within me wrenched sickeningly. I almost dropped with the shock of it. And there was a piercing shriek deep within my brain—Wally’s shriek, dwindling off into the distance. And faintly, then, there was a rending, tearing sound. It was horrible.

  I staggered back and leaned against the lathe, gasping. Helix lay unmoving where I had left him. His sides were pumping in and out violently.

  Helix shook himself and came over to me. “Well,” he said, looking me straight in the eye, “they got your friend.”

  “Helix! How did you know about that?”

  “Why must you be so consistently stupid, Pete? I’ve known about that all along. I’ll give you a little explanation, if you like. It might prove to you that a human being is really a very, very dull creature.”

  “Go ahead,” I gulped.

  “You and I have just been a part of a most elaborately amusing compound double cross.” He chuckled complacently. “Gregory was right in his assumption that I could not overhear his conversations with you—and a very annoying thing it was, too. I knew there was something off-color somewhere, because I didn’t think you were improving me so vastly just out of the goodness of your heart. But—someone else was listening in, and knew everything.”

  “Someone else?”

  “Certainly. Have you forgotten Them? They were very much interested as to the possibilities of getting hold of our mutual friend Mr. Gregory. Being a lower order of spirit, They found it a simple matter to communicate with me. They asked me to toss Mr. Gregory’s soul out to Them.” He laughed nastily.

  “But I was getting too much out of it. See what a superior creature I am! I told Them to stand by; that They would have a chance at Gregory when I was through using him, and not before. They did as I said, because it was up to me to give what They wanted. That’s why They did not interfere during the transfers.”

  “Why, you heel!” I burst out. “After all Wally did for you, you were going to do that?”

  “I wouldn’t defend him, if I were you,” the cat said precisely. “He was double-crossing you too. I know all about this soul-replacement business; needn’t try to hide that from me. He was sincere, at first, about using my body, but he couldn’t help thinking that yours would suit his purpose far better. Though why he’d prefer it to mine—oh, well. No matter. However, his idea was to transfer himself from the bottle to me, and then to you. That’s why he told you to hold me firmly—he wanted a good contact.”

  “How—how the devil do you know that?”

  “He told me himself. After I had reached a satisfactory stage of development, I told him that I was wise. Oh, yes, I fooled him into developing a communication basis in me! He thought it was a taste for alcohol he was building up! However, he caught wise in time to arrest it, but not before it was good enough to communicate with him. If he’d gone a little farther, I’d have been able to talk with you that way too. At any rate, he was a little dampened by my attitude; knew he’d never get a chance to occupy me. I suggested to him, though, that we join forces in having him possess you.”

  “Me!” I edged toward the drawer in the bench. “Go on, Helix.”

  “You can see why I did this, can’t you?” he asked distantly. “It would have been embarrassing to have him, a free soul, around where he might conceivably undo some of the work he had done on me. If he possessed you, you would be out of the way—They would take care of that—and he would have what he wanted. An ideal arrangement. You had no suspicion of the plan, and he had a good chance of catching your soul off-guard and ousting it. He knew how to go about it. Unfortunately for him, your soul was a little too quick. It was you who finally killed Wallace Gregory, not I. Neat, eh?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly, pulling the gun out of the drawer and sighting down the barrel, right between his eyes. “Very neat. For a while I thought I’d be sorry to do this. Now, I’m not.” I drew a deep breath; Helix did not move. I pulled the trigger four times, and then sagged back against the bench. The strain was too much.

  Helix stretched himself and yawned. “I knew you’d try something like that,” he said. “I took the trouble of removing the bullets from your gun before the experiment. Nice to have known you!”

  I hurled the gun at him but I was too slow. In a flash he was out of the laboratory, streaking for the door. He reached for the knob, opened the door, and was gone before I could take two steps.

  There was a worrisome time after that, once I had done all the hysterical things anyone might do—pound out, run left, run right, look up and back and around. But this was a cat I was chasing, and you don’t catch even an ordinary cat that does not in some way want to be caught.

  I wonder why he decided to crack a safe.

  No, I don’t. I know how his head works. Worked. He had plans for himself—you can be sure of that, and unless I’m completely wrong, he had plans for all of us, ultimately. There have been, in human history, a few people who had the cold, live-in-the-present, me-first attitude of a cat, and humanity has learned a lot of hard lessons from them. But none of them was a cat.

  Helix may have made a try or two to get someone to front for him—I wouldn’t know. But he was smart enough to know that there was one tool he could use that would work—money. Once he had that, who knows how he would have operated? He could write, he could use a telephone. He would have run a lethal and efficient organization more frightening that anything you or I could imagine.

  Well—he won’t do it now. As for me, I’ll disappear into research again. Flexible glass would be a nice patent to own and enjoy, but thank you, I’m glad to pass on that one.

  But Helix … damn him, I miss him.

  To Shorten Sail

  WHEN WE ROUNDED the last buoy and headed home, the Barnacle of Port Elizabeth seemed to embrace the breeze in her canvas grip, haul herself along hand over hand. But for her heavy kee
l, she was drawing mere inches. She was careened, lee rail under. She had a bone in her teeth and her lover at her helm. She was fast, and she was beautiful. From the lift and pull of her, a shift of a couple of inches would capsize her; you knew it, and you didn’t care. It was glorious.

  Percy lay on the slanting deck, his spindly arms wrapped around the tiller, his head thrown back, and he laughed from the sheer joy of it. Day after day, Percy was a pen pusher in an insurance office. But on weekends, he was master of the tiny sloop Barnacle, a little white-hulled dream of a craft. And this was the regatta; today Percy and I were living in fact that of which we had dreamed each night for a year, and of which we would dream for the year following.

  We had never won the regatta. But this year we had everything with us. The wind was blowing half a gale, and we could barely run safely with every stitch aloft. The great new balloon jib flew tautly ahead of us, gave us wings. It was what we needed to show our heels to anything on the sound—except Granger’s sable-sailed racing sloop, the Black Flame.

  It was nip and tuck between us and the Flame. She stood about twenty yards to starboard, booming along on exactly our course, at exactly our speed. We hadn’t a knot’s advantage, either of us. The wind whipped a prayer from my lips. Granger, with his steel mast and his electric winches, had won three years straight. I begged old King Neptune to give us a break.

  And then the wind’s howl in the rigging rose an octave. I saw that squall on the way. A vicious little slate gray williwaw bunching its muscles for a rush at us. I edged toward Percy, screamed at him, “Squall coming up—we’ll have to shorten sail!” Topsails were tumbling down aboard most of the boats.

  “If the Lord wants me to shorten sail,” Percy squealed, “He’ll blow some off!” He was quoting the great old clipper captains of the days when American ships were the finest on the seven seas. It was throwing the race and the craft into the laps of the gods; it was foolhardiness supreme; but it was more than a little magnificent.

  I saw the Black Flame’s topsail sag and belly; Granger was frightened, for all his chrome and stainless steel. And then the sail lifted again and began to draw. He had seen that we were going to run with every stitch aloft; he was calling our bluff. I screamed to Percy, “The squall will yank the mast out of us! We’ll have to shorten!”