The glowing cat

                (СВЕТЯЩИЙСЯ КОТ)
The glowing cat                перевела Мария Попова


Miranda’s strange whim surprised me. Considering her frugality! Even stinginess. For that matter, I want to sleep at night, and I don’t want anything glowing in the corner of the bedroom. Or worse, glowing while hunting mice.
“Why do you need such a cat?” I asked. “It’s insanely expensive.”
“Cats just dropped in price,” Miranda said. “I saw a commercial.”
If she has an id;e fixe she’d keep whining until she gets what she wants. Although she’s just a robot.
“All right. I’ll think about it. Now, make me a dinner, please.”
Miranda beamed, pecked me on the cheek, and rushed into the kitchen.
My two previous wives had been real as could be. I was so sick of their moods, and most importantly – their overspending, that when I was divorcing the second, I decided not to tempt fate anymore, and got myself, like many man nowadays, a robot-wife. The robotics industry had recently surged forward, and on the outside, those ‘wives’ were no different from the real ones. With a robot, everything would be under control, I thought. I was so wrong!
Many times I called the company where I had bought Miranda, and asked to make her more compliant. But no. Modification was impossible. How about a refund? They patiently explained that I had bought not a housekeeper-robot but a wife. The robot broke? No. Does the robot fit into the conventional image of a wife? Hell yeah! All right, you may return the robot, but a refund is out of question.
Miranda operated in a very ladylike way. Besides, I was very pleased with her built-in saving program (I had deliberately opted for such a model). The problem remained in her stubbornness. 
The divorces with my real wives had cost me nothing – we’d had a prenuptial agreement. We just went back to what we’d had before the marriage. But how to divorce a robot?
“Just throw her out!” suggested an old friend of mine. “Take her to the junkyard, and that will be that!”
Thanks, friend. Fifty thousand Euros – to the junkyard!   
The cat arrived. A huge spark rose between him and Miranda from the very first sight.
“What a cutie!” she exclaimed. “He glows so nice! What will we call him?”
“The Cat of the Baskervilles. Shortly, Basker.”
“What a weird name.”
 I recommended her to read The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle. That would take her a split second. Sure thing! She’ll read it by all means! But later. She’s hardwired with an amazing female skill of agreeing but not abiding.
The breeder, upon handing Basker to us, had proudly announced that this cat was a great reproducer. His kittens would also glow, even if the mother is an ordinary cat. The glowing gene would be dominant.
“You’re my first buyers!” she added.
You bet. There were no other idiots.
I barely suppressed myself, nodding and playing along with the breeder, but as soon as she was gone, I ordered Miranda to take the cat to a vet and have him castrated.
“You’re so cruel!” she gushed. “Poor kitty! I’m not going!”
I had to threaten her that I’d sell her at half-price to someone for spare parts. Only then she shoved a resisting car into a bag and left.

                ***
The trouble didn’t take long to wait. The cat couldn’t sleep by night, so he started messing. Once, he flew into such a rage that he knocked down an expensive heavy vase. I turned on Miranda, she rushed to clean up the shatters, and I threw a slipper into the vandal. Judging from a high-pitched meow, I reached him.
The next day, when I got home from work, I was changing my shoes and found one of my slippers was wet. The vindictive scum! 
Miranda washed the slipper, the smell was gone, but the slipper kept glowing in the dark.
“Now you have a slipper of the Baskervilles,” she said. “Fun and functional! You won’t have to search for it in the dark room. 
The vandal-cat didn’t disturb her sleep. She turns herself off for the night. You’d have to cajole her not to turn herself off, and she’d harp, “You’ve got yourself a wife, not a slave.”
In the upshot, I was tormented by insomnia. At night (while the cat glowed in the easy chair, and Miranda was offline) I indulged in dark thoughts and memories. Oh, those women… Even robots…
I eagerly accepted a sudden offer to go on a year-long business trip. 
Miranda was upset. Of course I understood that it was just the feelings-imitator program, but aren’t we all operated by various programs? Maybe, installed in us once and for all in our childhood? The older I get, the clearer I determine those ‘programs’ in others.  That’s why I react to Miranda’s ‘feelings’ the same way I would have reacted to the feelings of a ‘real’ wife.
“You’ll get over it,” I told her. “After all, you’ve got a cat!”
                ***
A year spent on business flew by quickly. I’ve had my share of fun. But suddenly, I found that… I missed Miranda. True, my beauty always does only what she thinks it appropriate. A robot with an attitude. But that evokes respect and, surprisingly enough… love.
I raced my car from the airport as though to a first date, in cheerful excitement. Soon, I’ll see Miranda! I’ll see my native countryside! (Everyone was sick and tired of big cities, so those who could afford it had moved closer to the great outdoors.)
The highway spiraled up to the top of yet another hill, and I could see my village in the distance. But wait…what the hell’s going on? The village was shining like some ethereal object. Such glow could have come from a gigantic flying saucer descended on Earth.
On the front porch of my home stood Miranda, looking fresh and gorgeous as always. She was smiling happily. The cat sat next to her, licking his paw. 
“Hi honey!” she exclaimed. “I missed you so much!”
“What’s going on here?! Why is it so bright at night, almost like it’s daytime?”
“Honey…” Miranda replied in a purring voice, which had evidently been envisaged by the designers for such occasions. It’s because of Basky. I’m so sorry! I didn’t take him to the vet that day. The robots are not allowed to cause harm to living creatures. So there... Now the village is full of glowing cats and kittens running everywhere. And when they pee on the grass, it keeps glowing even after rain… 
“Have the neighbors already sued us?” I asked once I found my tongue.
“Whatever for? They’re so happy! Just think about all the savings! The electricity bills are so low now!”
“I see. So that was the reason you insisted I should get a cat?”
“Well, yes…”
Miranda took Basky in her hands and started patting him with tenderness.
The cat purred sardonically, his eyes locked onto mine. His glowing mug read, “Eat this!”
               
                ***
“Come here,” said one spaceman to another. “See that?”
“Oh my god. What is that?” exclaimed the second one, leaning in closer to the window. 
“I was afraid to tell you. I thought I was going nuts. After all, we’ve been out on orbit for two years. You’re always nuzzled into your display. You should look out the window sometime. When they launched us to orbit there was some weird vague glow in one point, where there were no big cities. And now, the whole globe is glowing…