Alan Foster - Exceptions to Reality

“Just Ali. Ali Kedal. That’s all. I’m a guide. I show to visitors the wonders of this part of my country.” He took a chance. He had always been a bit of a gambler. “Our country.”

“I see. Then you are not a servant of Osiris, and this is not the Underworld.” The cheetah paced thoughtfully for a moment before looking up again. “What year is this, Ali Kedal?”

Ali considered. The modern calendar would mean nothing to someone from so ancient a time. Unarhotep would have no reference for it. “As near as I can tell, it has been some four thousand eight hundred years since your entombment, my lord.”

“So long! The mere thinking of it makes me tired. If this is the truth, then I cannot be your lord. You may call me Unar. My mother did. The kingdom of Egypt still exists, then?”

“As it ever has been, Egypt remains a wonder of the world. Its history and its monuments are still revered by all mankind.” He hesitated briefly. “Might I ask, oh lor—Unar, how you came to be in this…form?”

The Pharaonic feline began to pace restlessly; back and forth, back and forth. “I was Pharaoh only for a very short time. I contracted a wasting illness with which my court physicians were, sadly, unfamiliar. There was at that time a certain mystic working in Thebes. A sorcerer named, if I remember correctly, Horexx. A venerable man. Nubian, I believe. He claimed to be able to oversee the transfer of a soul from one body to another. But not to that of another human person. To do that would require chasing the soul from that other person’s body. This feat was beyond Horexx’s powers.

“But he felt certain that, if given the opportunity, he could shift a person’s soul into any other kind of body. As it rapidly became clear that the disease that was consuming my person would leave me with nothing in which to dwell in the other world, it was left to me to choose the vessel for my soul’s life after death. Following much discussion among my most learned advisers, it was decided to put me in this body, of my beloved pet Musat, and consecrate the result to the cat god Bastet.” Raising up on hind legs—a thing Ali had never before seen or heard of—the cheetah pawed gently at the air in the direction of the open sarcophagus.

“Though the procedure was both torturous and painful, in the end Musat’s body welcomed me. It is a powerful form, handsome, swift, and elegant. A fitting container for the soul of a Pharaoh. Unfortunately so shocking was the transfer that it resulted in the death of Musat’s body as well as mine.” The big cat dropped back down onto all fours. “It was declared by Horexx that the first person who should touch my preserved form would have the ability to think ‘with’ me, and that that person alone should be my guide through the Underworld for all eternity.” A paw gestured, taking in the modest chamber.

“I determined to be interred here, in this simple place, so that my person would not be disturbed by those low-born ones who live by pillaging the tombs of better men who went before them.”

“I am sorry, Unar.” Ali was genuinely apologetic. “I have disturbed your sleep of thousands of years only to have to welcome you yet again to the real world, and not that of Osiris and Horus, of Bastet and Anubis.” Privately he knew that such imaginary beings did not exist, nor did the Underworld they were supposed to rule. But he could hardly venture that opinion to one who believed in them as deeply and personally as did Unarhotep. One man’s superstitious nonsense is another man’s true religion.

But the revived Pharaoh surprised him.

“Perhaps it is just as well. I was never so certain of the existence of Osiris’s realm myself. To the unending frustration of my scholars, I was always a freethinking sort of man. Such beliefs could be discussed freely only on rare, private occasions.” The cat’s head came up proudly. “A Pharaoh must be strong for his people.

“If I am to live again, perhaps this real world is not such a bad place or time in which to do so. Is Egypt still the ruler of the known world?”

Emboldened by both his knowledge and the continued friendliness of the most ancient one, Ali stepped a little bit away from the beautifully painted wall.

“The world has changed in ways you cannot imagine, Unar. There are many more countries and lands than when you reigned. Science has changed the way the world runs. There are great things about it that even I do not understand. Computers, atomic energy, the Internet…”

The cat raised a paw to forestall him. “Do men still lie with women, and thus make children?”

“Yes.” Ali could not keep from smiling. “That, at least, has not changed.”

“And what of riches, of the material wealth of men? Do they still value such things as gold and silver, and precious stones?” Once again, Ali nodded. “Then it may be,” the cheetah thought clearly, “that it is only the superficial things that have changed as much as you say, and that at heart and at base, men are still much the same. Do they still choose others to rule over them?”

“It is, indeed. If I may say so, Unar, you are handling this very well.”

“Though I did not rule long, I ruled well. To do so, one must learn to adapt to new things very quickly, be they an unexpected war, foreign alliances, or something as small as a new way of raising building stones. Even for a Pharaoh, a living god, life is a constant battle to learn and to retain mastery over others.” He looked down at himself. “Yet I confess that for all my experience and knowledge, I cannot see how I can make myself again even a little bit of what once I was: a lord over men, wealthy and admired, with a host of concubines at my side and great men trembling and waiting at my every utterance. Because for as long as I may live again, I will have to live in this form and no other.”

It was then that Ali had the idea. He was, after all, sophisticated from extensive contact with foreign tourists. And while his village was poor, it was not isolated. There were things about the world that Ali had learned and remembered. Things that anyone who lives in the real world learns very quickly.

“I think, my lo—Unar—that I may be able to help you to regain some of what you once had. Some of your stature, some of the effect you had on other people. Maybe even the company of beautiful concubines.”

“This is a true thing? You do not lie?” The cheetah grinned, which, unfortunately, had the opposite effect on Ali than what was intended. “If you can do such a thing, Ali, then you will truly be my friend for the remainder of my life in this world, as well as in the next.”

“We can but try,” Ali confessed. Turning, he looked up at the circle of moonlight overhead. “Hopefully someone will come along and find us before the desert overtakes us.” He gestured helplessly. “I found this place by accident, by falling in, and have no way out.”

“Is that all?” Unarlotep asked. And with a single bound, he leaped upward and through the opening.

It does not matter how Unarhotep helped Ali to get out of the tomb. It only matters that he did. Nor need it be dwelled upon how the two got themselves out of Egypt. Only that they did.

So it was that one day, camel guide and resurrected cat found themselves in another country far, far from the dehydrated delights of Thebes and that haranguing harridan Harima. A tall man was standing next to Ali. He wore a very fine shirt and pants along with sunglasses that themselves would have cost Ali six months’ earnings as a guide’s assistant. The tall man was nervous, and made no effort to hide it.

“You’re sure about your animal, now, Ali? We can’t take any chances here. I’m not using a double for Tiffany. She really wants to do this shot herself, and I want her to do it. But if anything goes wrong, the studio, the insurance company, and the ASPCA will have my ass in a grinder for it.”