Kurt Vonnegut - Cat's Cradle

Around his neck hung a chain with a cylinder the size of a rifle cartridge for a pendant. I supposed that the cylinder contained some magic charm. I was mistaken. It contained a splinter of ice-nine .

“Papa” could hardly speak. His teeth chattered and his breathing was beyond control.

“Papa’s” agonized head was at the bow of the dinghy, bent back.

Mona’s xylophone was near the bed. She had apparently tried to soothe “Papa” with music the previous evening.

“ ‘Papa’?” whispered Frank.

“Good-bye,” “Papa” gasped. His eyes were bugging, sightless.

“I brought a friend.”

“Good-bye.”

“He’s going to be the next President of San Lorenzo. He’ll be a much better President than I could be.”

“Ice!” “Papa” whimpered.

“He asks for ice,” said Von Koenigswald. “When we bring it, he does not want it.”

“Papa” rolled his eyes. He relaxed his neck, took the weight of his body from the crown of his head. And then he arched his neck again. “Does not matter,” he said, “who is President of…” He did not finish.

I finished for him. “San Lorenzo?”

“San Lorenzo,” he agreed. He managed a crooked smile. “Good luck!” he croaked.

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter! Bokonon. Get Bokonon.”

I attempted a sophisticated reply to this last. I remembered that, for the joy of the people, Bokonon was always to be chased, was never to be caught. “I will get him.”

“Tell him…”

I leaned closer, in order to hear the message from “Papa” to Bokonon.

“Tell him I am sorry I did not kill him,” said “Papa.”

“I will.”

“ You kill him.”

“Yessir.”

“Papa” gained control enough of his voice to make it commanding. “I mean really! ”

I said nothing to that. I was not eager to kill anyone.

“He teaches the people lies and lies and lies. Kill him and teach the people truth.”

“Yessir.”

“You and Hoenikker, you teach them science.”

“Yessir, we will,” I promised.

“Science is magic that works .”

He fell silent, relaxed, closed his eyes. And then he whispered, “Last rites.”

Von Koenigswald called Dr. Vox Humana in. Dr. Humana took his tranquilized chicken out of the hatbox, preparing to administer Christian last rites as he understood them.

“Papa” opened one eye. “Not you,” he sneered at Dr. Humana. “Get out!”

“Sir?” asked Dr. Humana.

“I am a member of the Bokononist faith,” “Papa” wheezed. “Get out, you stinking Christian.”

So I was privileged to see the last rites of the Bokononist faith.

We made an effort to find someone among the soldiers and the household staff who would admit that he knew the rites and would give them to “Papa.” We got no volunteers. That was hardly surprising, with a hook and an oubliette so near.

So Dr. von Koenigswald said that he would have a go at the job. He had never administered the rites before, but he had seen Julian Castle do it hundreds of times.

“Are you a Bokononist?” I asked him.

“I agree with one Bokononist idea. I agree that all religions, including Bokononism, are nothing but lies.”

“Will this bother you as a scientist,” I inquired, “to go through a ritual like this?”

“I am a very bad scientist. I will do anything to make a human being feel better, even if it’s unscientific. No scientist worthy of the name could say such a thing.”

And he climbed into the golden boat with “Papa.” He sat in the stern. Cramped quarters obliged him to have the golden tiller under one arm.

He wore sandals without socks, and he took these off. And then he rolled back the covers at the foot of the bed, exposing “Papa’s” bare feet. He put the soles of his feet against “Papa’s” feet, assuming the classical position for boko-maru .

“ Gott mate mutt ,” crooned Dr. von Koenigswald.

“ Dyot meet mat ,” echoed “Papa” Monzano.

“God made mud,” was what they’d said, each in his own dialect. I will here abandon the dialects of the litany.

“God got lonesome,” said Von Koenigswald.

“God got lonesome.”

“So God said to some of the mud, ‘Sit up!’ ”

“So God said to some of the mud, ‘Sit up!’ ”

“ ‘See all I’ve made,’ said God, ‘the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars.’ ”

“ ‘See all I’ve made,’ said God, ‘the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars.’ ”

“And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.”

“And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.”

“Lucky me; lucky mud.”

“Lucky me, lucky mud.” Tears were streaming down “Papa’s” cheeks.

“I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.”

“I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.”

“Nice going, God!”

“Nice going, God!” “Papa” said it with all his heart.

“Nobody but You could have done it, God! I certainly couldn’t have.”

“Nobody but You could have done it, God! I certainly couldn’t have.”

“I feel very unimportant compared to You.”

“I feel very unimportant compared to You.”

“The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn’t even get to sit up and look around.”

“The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn’t even get to sit up and look around.”

“I got so much, and most mud got so little.”

“I got so much, and most mud got so little.”

“ Deng you vore da on-oh! ” cried Von Koenigswald.

“ Tz-yenk voo vore lo yon-yo! ” wheezed “Papa.”

What they had said was, “Thank you for the honor!”

“Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.”

“Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.”

“What memories for mud to have!”

“What memories for mud to have!”

“What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!”

“What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!”

“I loved everything I saw!”

“I loved everything I saw!”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

“I will go to heaven now.”

“I will go to heaven now.”

“I can hardly wait…”

“I can hardly wait…”

“To find out for certain what my wampeter was…”

“To find out for certain what my wampeter was…”

“And who was in my karass …”

“And who was in my karass …”

“And all the good things our karass did for you.”

“And all the good things our karass did for you.”

“Amen.”

“Amen.”

But “Papa” didn’t die and go to heaven — not then. I asked Frank how we might best time the announcement of my elevation to the Presidency. He was no help, had no ideas; he left it all up to me.

“I thought you were going to back me up,” I complained.

“As far as anything technical goes.” Frank was prim about it. I wasn’t to violate his integrity as a technician; wasn’t to make him exceed the limits of his job.

“I see.”

“However you want to handle people is all right with me. That’s your responsibility.”

This abrupt abdication of Frank from all human affairs shocked and angered me, and I said to him, meaning to be satirical, “You mind telling me what, in a purely technical way, is planned for this day of days?”