The cat opened its eyes.
Messy footsteps startled it, and the cat finally lifted its head from a sound sleep. It was time to wake up. It shook the dust from its body and stood up, arching its back in a yawn. The air around it was stale and dirty, and the cat choked out a sneeze. It stretched its limbs and straightened its body, and thankfully, all of its joints remained supple and flexible.
Yelling loudly and dragging a utensil, something shattered, not far away. The cat shivered, what a tumultuous sound, like something experienced in a distant dream. The cat was in a trance, its eyes just adjusting to the dimness of its surroundings, its whole mind still drowning in the numbness of sleep. It took most of the night before the cat realized that it was caught between a bundle of blankets. The blankets were moving outward, and the cat gripped the furry cob with a death grip, holding her breath as she dragged herself backward.
"Damn, this blanket is heavy!" Someone called. The cat loosened its claws. The human's voice buzzed in its head, jarring it into a headache. The blanket moved a little, and the cat backed away sharply, right up until its back was against the cold, cold wall. The blanket jerked away all at once, and the cat's eyes lit up.
Thick feet, thick legs, and then go up to a thick stomach, thick neck, thick face full of flesh, face long a thick eye-catching black mole.
The cat stared at the human, every nerve taut with alarm. "Black cat! What a moldy head!" The black mole's voice was raspy and dark, making the cat uncomfortable as something distant and just as dark swept over it. The cat stared wide-eyed, trying its best to recall what kind of things those were.
But Mole, not allowing the cat to think, grabbed a broom and swung it at the cat, "Damn cat! It must have chewed something up."
The cat felt the other's intense loathing and instinctively leapt to higher ground. The stuff at its feet emitted a stifling rubbery odor that overwhelmed it. The cat jumped aside in a hurry, stabilizing itself before it could see that it was standing on the protruding metal branches of a large chandelier. Beneath the chandelier were several tables stacked up crookedly.
The black moles tilted up their ugly faces. A few people ran over and gathered around him, chattering, "That's a big cat!" "Move the table!" "Catch it and hand it over to Old King for LW." "Close the door! Close it!"
They all wore identical blue clothes. The cat felt an inexplicable resentment at this. From the bottom of its throat came a long-suppressed, "Meow-oh!"
The cat was completely awake. It felt that its body was weak from sleeping for so long, and it was not yet fit for a strenuous battle. Therefore it suppressed the anger that was building up in its heart and scrutinized its surroundings. It was a large room, cluttered with piles of things, traces of relocation and organization everywhere, and there was only one door.
The blue suits began to climb the table, and the cat had to jump higher. How to get away from this bunch of crazies? Pounce down, pounce on the black mole's face, scare him half to death, and then grab the door. That was a good plan. It might even scratch a few deep bloody marks on the mole's face.
The cat looked down at its claws. The claws were dull as hell and hadn't been sharpened in a long time. Never mind, let him go this time. The cat jumped from one place to another as people chased him. The cat noticed a hole leaking in the ceiling, revealing the gray metal diffractor frame of the ceiling. The cat turned back around, its eyes bursting into a chilling gaze. "Meow---- meow-woo!" It barked harshly, then took a slight leap into the hole, and was gone in an instant.
"The ghost cat is really good at running." People cursed. The steward came in, "Still not working!" "Chief, there are really a lot of bits and pieces in this storehouse. I heard that this building used to be a hospital and was haunted, right?" "Poor ghosts! The hospital wasn't doing well, so it had to be converted into a hotel. It's also good to change, just move the medical equipment out of the wards. It's none of your business, work work work!"
Two
Hospital. The place where life and death alternate and gather. The pungent smell of disinfectant, the solemn looks of people coming and going, the silver metallic luster of intricately constructed machines. It was as if the cat smelled, saw, and felt it again. It didn't like it. It even hated it.
But the cat liked the dark atmosphere in the ceiling. It sharpened its claws well on the gumwood lining, then burrowed into the vent. The curved vent pipe must lead to the outside world. The cat hesitated at this point. By rights it should go out: it was awake; there were people in the house who wanted to hunt it; and there was neither water nor food in the ceiling. It couldn't just fall back to sleep, could it?
Inside, however, the cat felt that it could not just walk away, that it could not just leave, that it was a duty and a promise.
A promise? The cat was shocked: how could a cat, known for its solitary personality, be bound by a pact? Was it a promise to meet here with someone before going to sleep? With whom? It tried hard to think, but couldn't.
The cat stayed there for a long time, but in the end, its stomach was growling, and if it was starving to death, it would not be able to fulfill any of its promises. So the cat headed for the ventilation ducts. The vent got smaller and smaller, and finally disappeared from its view. It was as if the cat had fallen back into a dream, surrounded by a dark and empty place. The dark and distant past slowly seeped out from the darkness, the cat opened its eyes wide, it could not see clearly, let alone touch. There was a vague light ahead, and the cat quickened its pace. There must be a way out first, the cat said to itself, memories meant nothing at all at this point.
The wind was cool and brushed against the cat's face. The cat smelled the fresh, fresh smell of the wind, the smell of the sun and the air, the smell of the flowers and the trees. It excited the cat, it hadn't been excited in a long time, and its steps picked up, forgetting all about hunger. The cat just wanted to see the outside world immediately.
I don't know how long the cat had been walking, but it was still stuck in the maze-like network of ventilation ducts. The cat decided to take a different route. There was a loose baffle on the left side of the duct, and it went over to listen against the wall, and it was quiet there. The cat chewed on it for a while, and the rotten baffle fell off, hitting the bottom of the pipe with a thud and revealing a hole. The cat waited, and when there was nothing out of the ordinary, it jumped into the hole and put its feet on the polyester fiber barrier. The cat is a bit impatient with the ceiling again. It felt tired and paced around the suspended ceiling.
At regular intervals, the barrier panel opened into small windows, fitted with metal louvers. The serene, dismal whiteness of the fluorescent lights filtered through the outside of these shutters into the ceiling, making the cat drowsy.
Thankfully, at this point, the crash of the door opening, the pounding of the heels, and the giggling and laughing of the women helped to chase the sleepiness away from the cat. Fearing another fall into deep slumber, the cat searched for the window with the loudest sound.
Over the window blinds, the cat saw desks, bookshelves and chairs of textures and shapes unfamiliar to it. Several brightly dressed women were eating a large box of fluffy, pure white food.
"The cake's not bad, is it?" One of the women asked. It was cake. A treat made from baking. Cats had eaten them too. But never had she seen such a beautiful cake. The cat shrugged its nose at the cake's rich, sweet, buttery scent. It couldn't help but lick its lips.
"The chief is here." The women suddenly scrambled to close the box and set it down on the lower shelf of a neighboring shelf. Cat got a clear look at the box with most of the cake left in it. The door to the room opened and someone shouted through the door, "Off duty gone, gone!" . The women gathered their things, turned off the lights, and locked the door. The cat waited a moment. Silence filled the room in the fading dusk.
The cat began to move. It unscrewed the clasp of the blinds, fortunately with teeth that were still sharp enough. Then it sledged the window with its front feet, which weren't quite nimble enough, but at least it sledged a crack, and it stuck its head out and squeezed its whole body through. At the moment of jumping out of the shutter, the cat was frightened by the fact that it had two feet in the air. But it immediately calmed down, a waist of strength, feet forward, on the fluorescent tube, which had been half a day's glance, and then with more force, it climbed onto the tube. The tube wobbled, and without much delay it jumped at once to the filing cabinet, then the desk, the floor. The cat had no time to reminisce about this series of thrilling maneuvers, so it headed straight for the shelf where the cake was.
The cake was really good, and the cat licked even the crumbs that had gotten on the box. Now if only there was water. The cat jumped up on the table, which did have half a cup on it. It stuck its head into the paper cup. Wow! It was so hard! The water was surprisingly medicinal and bitter tasting. The cat hastily pulled its head out and shook off the water that was on both cheeks.
The cat paced from table to table, rambling, and this after-dinner walk lasted a while. The cat felt it should think about something. It looked up at the ceiling, and the cat was rather amused at the thought that it had just jumped from such a high place. It sat down on the glass panel that pressed against the table and slowly washed its face and brushed the long fur on its body.
The room got darker. The cat looked out the window. The window was large, and a light was coming on outside it, and the houses and trees were fading to just blurred silhouettes.
Three
Thinking about what? The cat jumped onto the windowsill. The world outside the window consisted of houses, streets, signs, vehicles, middle-aged men selling small foodstuffs, skipping children and strings of small lights flowing from the eaves of the houses to the Chinese acacia down the street. At the end of the world are huge neon lights flashing in the air.
It was all a little strange and a little familiar to the cat. It remembers the delicious taste of briny little sausages, and it knows that extremely fat and flavorful mice live in the underground gutters. But it doesn't remember the city being so bright and lively at night. Nor does it remember why it ran to sleep under the blanket. Instead, the cat remembers the free days of walking on rooftops and walls, breathing in the moonlight, and chasing the stars. Those were the past of a shadowy, distant past.
The cat was confused. The past was clearly recognizable, but the past was like its own tail, which it was spinning in circles to catch, and couldn't catch. Did the past have something to do with the promise?
Someone opened the door. The cat huffed and leapt under the table. It was the cleaning lady. The door was half open. Realizing this was an opportunity, the cat slipped out while the worker bent over bundling garbage bags. It was going back to the depot, and from there the search for the past might lead to answers. The past and the promise must be closely related.
Beyond the door, a long, quiet hallway. The cat walked close to the wall. It was distracted and its steps were slow. What if it couldn't find anything in the vault? What then? What to do? Cool it. Such an incongruous word suddenly popped out of its somber mood, relaxing the cat a little. Let's not think about anything on the way to the storehouse. Cat said to herself.
Turn left, then left again, go through a door, turn right, door again, turn again, and sure enough stairs appeared. Follow the stairs all the way down and you'll find the Treasury. The cat was very happy, and didn't want to think about where it had learned where the stairs were. It turned back and scanned the entire hallway. On the wall to one side of the corridor was a large monthly calendar sign: 23:17/5/24/1998 The cat trembled and its organs shivered violently. It had a very definite idea about time. Yes, there was no doubt that the day before it fell asleep was September 20, 1988 It would never remember it wrongly, because that day, that day...what exactly happened on that day that made it sleep for ten years? There is no such thing as a cat that sleeps for ten years, it is illogical, it is irrational, it is not ......
The month sign stung the cat's eyes, and it ran to the stairs in fear. It was afraid to think. It was only a cat. Cats never wasted energy thinking about complex problems. But it hesitated as it stepped onto the steps, an uncontrollable feeling welling up inside it that it had to get to the bottom of this. The cat turned back to the hallway. The elevator. It searched frantically for the elevator. Finally it found it in a drop corner. The elevator switch was out of the cat's reach, and the cat looked around anxiously that maybe someone would come and help it.
The hallway was clear and cold, the floor reflecting the dim light. Can't count on humans. The cat thought. They'll catch me doing the LW.
The cat turned its head to stare dead at the switch, its eyes moving. The switch? Suddenly lit up. A little while later, the elevator doors slowly opened. The cat dodged in, afraid to be seen, it was an unusual thing for a cat to ride in an elevator. It knows. The elevator doors close silently. The cat tilts its head to look at the control panel:1,2,3......25 is the 25th floor. The cat then stares dead ahead at 25, and the indicator light brakes on. Cat felt her body sink downward, followed by relief. The elevator was already running. The walls of the narrow, closed elevator were smooth, hiding no secrets, which gave the cat a sense of security. It breathed a sigh of relief. It didn't understand what the elevator was for.
The elevator stopped. It's still an endless corridor. Secrets, intrigue. Red blood, tumbling into the mind. The cat was sick to its stomach. It hastened its steps. The beige color of the walls had begun to mottle and peel away, revealing light brown traces. The cat lowered its head and tried its best not to notice. But those marks were connected to the blood-colored images it remembered, and made it smell the horror of blood from long ago.
The cat gave up thinking and walked entirely by feel. The corridor grew narrower and narrower.
Two fire hydrants stood side by side at the corner, and the paint splattered on the glass doors remained as they were. A light was on far away. Everything was still similar to ten years ago. Time stood still. Similarity, stagnation. Been here myself, ten years ago. The cat drifted off. The shadowy, distant past floundered in the hazy light. The cat feels alone and afraid. It walks drowsily, its flesh-padded paws landing noiselessly. The cat sometimes stood still and waited for its shadow to follow, as if it had a companion that way.
Fire escape. Set up on the wall in a hidden alcove of the hallway. The cat gave a steep start. This was exactly what it was looking for. The barred window at the end of the ladder was half open.
A clear, deep blue night sky beyond the half-open barred window strongly attracted it. The cat decided to go out, under the blue sky.
Four
The wind whistled the cat's tail, and every hair on its body danced with the wind. It stood on the roof deck of the 25-story building, the sky flat above its head and the city crowded at its feet.
The serenity of the sky contrasts greatly with the hustle and bustle of the city.
The cat was in the middle of the contrast, and it was both refreshing and disgusting. It walked along the platform. The platform was empty, except for the barbed wire fences on all sides. The cat's heart is also empty, very lonely. The attraction of the sky disappeared. The cat was depressed, and the indescribable sadness it had felt since it woke up swept over it more and more intensely. It couldn't help but purr wildly, as if by doing so it could scream out the depression in its heart.
The night was deep, the sky was low, and thousands of silver stars filled the firmament. The cat looked up at the sky for a long time, his eyes blurring.
About the past, about the future, about this city and this vast and deep sky, Cat seemed familiar and strange. The cat was very annoyed at his state of being between knowing and not knowing. This can not, of course not, without the past can not know the future. Without the past, there is no way to know the future. There is no way to know the purpose of life. The purpose of life must be determined in order for existence to be meaningful. A meaningful life is a full and happy one, where victory is not a joy and defeat is not a shock.
The cat tried to clean up the logical mess. But the monthly cards and brown marks can't be harmonized. Yes, for a cat that has slept for ten years, logical messes are justified and understandable.
What do you mean understandable? Would a cat think that way? As cats go, this is too bizarre. The cat laughed to itself. Maybe it really had slept too long and short-circuited its nerves? The cat was troubled by all sorts of strange and bizarre thoughts in its head. Luckily, it was hungry, and it couldn't care less about thinking about life for a while. For a cat that had slept for ten years, a few pieces of cake would not be enough to replenish the energy consumed.
The cat spent the rest of the night wandering around the building: six mice were caught in the sewers; four packets of dry noodles and two bars of chocolate were found in the office; half a pound of liver and a bottle of fresh milk were found in the kitchen of the staff cafeteria. Human voices are no longer difficult to hear, and human language can be understood. The cat avoids people as much as possible, and in general it has little love for humans. It found itself quite familiar with the building, it seemed it must have studied every detail of the building before, perhaps for food? The cat tried desperately to keep the problem simple, but of course it was best if it could not think about it. By the time he returned to the roof with his fill of food and drink, it was dawn, the stars were receding, and the lights of the city were dimming. The cat heard the shrill sound of a car horn. The sound was especially shrill in the thin morning air.
The cat sat down to wash its face. It's a complicated job: licking its front paws, rubbing its face vigorously with them, then licking and rubbing again. After washing its face, it has to continue licking the rest of its body. Cats all over the world do this, with the same gesture and the same beat.
Why do I have to be a cat? The thought could really scare it. It hadn't woken up with such extreme and rebellious thoughts, actually doubting and resenting its own attributes. But am I really a cat? The cat was terrified and paced to the barbed wire fence. The sky had brightened, the sun red and bright, a thin layer of clouds in the distance, and a few green mountains dotting the curved horizon.
The world seemed real.
I am a cat, of course. I have a keen sense of hearing and smell, sharp teeth and claws. I can jump and somersault to catch mice. Where am I not like a cat?
Has there ever been a cat that slept for ten years?
Is there a cat that can control an elevator remotely?
Are there cats that know words in human language?
You know full well that this is not cat behavior, it's unusual.
The cat panics and jumps away from the spot. There is no one of its kind around. How can you speak to yourself in the second person. I'm crazy. It hovered anxiously in front of the protective fence. The cat sensed that there was another consciousness nagging at the depths of its consciousness, causing it to have strange thoughts or feelings from time to time. It could not yet specify exactly what that was. But the memories were fractured, and the thinking was skewed. The cat was frustrated and heavy-footed. What was the point of existence when you couldn't even figure out if you were a cat or not? What was there to talk about finding the past and the promise?
On the platform, there were people doing exercises and playing soccer. The cat scanned them with a melancholy gaze. They didn't seem to have a headache for existence. "What a big black cat!" A small child said when he saw the cat. "Whose cat is that? Hey, it still has four hooves on the snow." Someone approached it and the cat arched its back bluffing and threatening. The person left resentfully, "What the heck, I don't know what the owner did to him, what a rude cat."
Master! Master! That's right! I deserve a master. It was my master who brought me from the street to the building, and it was my master who let me stay in the storehouse and wait for him. Yes, the master and I had a pact to meet again. It was during the days of waiting for him that I fell asleep for ten years.
Then go back to the storehouse and keep waiting. The other consciousness said. It is a duty and a covenant.
Okay, I'll go back. The cat bared its teeth at the man staring at it. The two words master settled all doubts. The cat's heart settled down temporarily, and it no longer had any doubts about its own attributes. In the first place, what else could it be but a cat itself? Now the question is where is the master. Ten years, ten years the master never went to the appointment. The bloodstains in the corridor became clearer all of a sudden. The master is not in some kind of accident? Or, forgotten it? The cat preferred to believe the latter scenario. Well then, it was good to go to the master. To make up for the past, to restart a life that had been interrupted for ten years.
Five
The cat felt a heartfelt joy when its feet actually hit the ground. The warehouse, the corridors, the elevator, and the roof of the building brought it nothing but terrified speculation and doubt. Only the land made it feel solid, and it indulged in rolling around in the dust and dirt, letting the flies hover above its head without paying any attention to them.
The cat began to wander around the city, catching sight of its master with all its heart. The cat couldn't remember what its master looked like, nor could it remember his voice. But it was certain that it could recognize its master from the countless men, women, and children, and was sure that it could separate its master's scent from everyone else's. The master's scent must be especially warm and cozy, the cat concluded.
The cat realized that the city she saw from the top of the 25th floor was awfully big. The city was very different than it had been ten years ago, a mental difference that made it very uncomfortable. The cat searches every yard, every building, every store in the night. It had only searched three streets in a whole month of busyness. And the city had thousands of streets, large and small, with hundreds of thousands of yards, hundreds of thousands of buildings, hundreds of thousands of stores, and millions of residents.
Can this find the owner of a broken contract? Can it find the owner who discarded it and wasted ten years of its life waiting? The cat asked itself more than once. Is it worth the effort to keep searching like this? If it really had been abandoned, wouldn't it be a bit of a dead end to go back to him?
Then the cat thought of the first possibility. The owner had met with something unexpected and thus was unable to come to him and take him away. But what kind of accident could the owner have met with? The cat didn't dare to think much about it, perhaps the master had gone to a faraway place and was long gone from the city.
Is there a point to the search or not? The cat's second consciousness often questioned it. The cat was overwhelmed by the question. So what do you mean by meaningful? I can't be a feral cat in the street, can I?
You are the wildcat. A wild cat that runs free on walls and rooftops, breathing in the moonlight, chasing the stars, uninhibited. The sound echoed in the cat's head, and it was so long that it wouldn't go away.
At first, the cat was able to suppress its ambivalence and continue its quest: sleeping on rooftops or at the foot of walls by day and approaching humans by night. The city air is chaotic and foul, and he must be doubly careful to distinguish between them in order to find the slightest sign of his master.
Summer ended quickly, and fall came. The city was popular for catching colds and composing ancient poems. The cat often hears a song called "The Song of the Yue Ren", which contains two lines: "The mountains have wood, the wood has branches, the heart is happy with the gentleman, the gentleman does not know. The cat feels very much like it was made for it, and every time it hears it, it has to listen to the whole song. After listening to the whole song, it will be sad that the owner does not know how hard it is to find him. The cat has adapted to the city of 1998. It gradually familiarized itself with the fumes of the kitchen, the boring quarrels of men and women, the difference between children's pampering and splashing, the helplessness of the old people who have gone through vicissitudes of life, and the resentment of the middle-aged people who are burdened with heavy burdens. The whole human race is like a colorful kaleidoscope, making the cat dizzy. Cats have also met some of their own kind: the delicate, the lazy, the naughty, the ignorant. They have never seen a mouse, and live idly in human living rooms, all clean and fat. Their kind is unimpressed with the path the cat has chosen to take in life. "Find a random person to adopt you. Don't bother looking for an old owner." They advise the cat. This will have a warm couch and hot food. Yes, that would be nice indeed. I wouldn't want to stray, either. But it's always awkward to snuggle up and snooze on a stranger's knee. Unless it's the owner. When you find the owner, you can stop and rest, and you have a place to go. The thought of that swept away the cat's weariness.
But can you accept the fate of being kept as an accessory and a plaything?
I can. The cat desperately cried out in its mind, rebelling against the mockery of that other consciousness. It felt weak and vulnerable. It despised domestic cats, and instinctively loathed their arrogant and servile subservience. He was sometimes frightened that he was really one of them. But they are not alone, they are a large group, with the same voice.
The cat is increasingly ambivalent: House cat? Master? Feral cat? The days passed in conflict. The weather is getting colder, and the morning grass is sprinkled with white frost. The cat needed a lot of time now to look for food. Mice and insects are no longer easy to catch, and the cat sometimes has to swallow grass roots. Going to the store or to a resident's home to find food is very dangerous and can result in severe beatings or even life-threatening injuries. The sense of self-preservation is sometimes overdone. Cats do not believe that eating one or two pieces of meat will bring destruction to people. People are too petty in this regard, so petty that they are a bit nervous. Cats are becoming less favorable to people every day, except for their owners, of course.
The first snow fell on the city, and the cat nearly froze. It found shelter in an old clock tower and rarely went outside. The cat often curled up in a ball and hid among the clutter piled in the corner of the building. It wished it could dream for another ten years to forget the cold air and the biting north wind, but it couldn't sleep soundly, and the slightest sound would wake it up. The past, the past, the unknown owner. These questions stirred it to sleep.
Six
It was a hard day for the cat to close its eyes when a dozen men came noisily up to the bell tower. Cat got up to see what they were up to. They pushed the heavy floggers and struck the huge bronze bell, which was hundreds of years old. They hugged each other and shouted "Happy New Year" in excitement at the sound of the bell.
Happy New Year. The cat said to himself. The cat's eyes became moist, and tears slowly streamed down his cheeks, in the deepest, darkest corners of the bell tower. All beliefs about its master suddenly disintegrated, and it felt colder and lonelier than it had ever felt before.
Happy New Year. The other voice said clearly in the cat's consciousness. Are you still looking for your master?
Am I really a wildcat?
Of course. You have never lived in a human family. You don't need an owner, you have your own independent personality and never depend on anyone.
You, you, as if you and I weren't the same cat.
You are a cat. I am not.
The cat lifted a paw to wipe the tears from her face, trying her best not to ask who you are. Such questions were stupid. A smart cat does not indulge in schizophrenic tendencies.
Bullshit. Alternative voices insight its mind. If you're really smart you should remember about the aliens.
Aliens, that's more than a little funny. A cat is not supposed to understand the concept of aliens. But I do. I know that the world I live in is a star called Earth. There are many, many more stars in the sky. Each star is a unique world. Some worlds are very much like Earth, with plants, animals, and people.
The aliens looked a lot like the people of Earth. They say there are similarities in the evolutionary laws of the universe. By the way, I have seen aliens. These are the things they tell me. I can talk to them, through consciousness.
But how do you know that? The cat questioned.
The other consciousness smiled sadly. I am one of those aliens. The 071 that let you into the ship.
It can't be! How could you be in my body?
It's just my consciousness in your head. Take it easy, I won't hurt you.
The cat lowered its claws. This I cannot understand.
Spirit can sometimes exist separately from the physical body. For ten years I have been wrapped in your consciousness in a stupor. Now I am finally clear and separate from you.
The feeling of entanglement vanished suddenly. There was a stream of consciousness separating from the cat's mind, independently clear and strong, no longer vague and indistinguishable. The cat could talk to this consciousness, but could not dominate or probe it. The cat felt relieved and refreshed, and the chaos in his mind was over. The past, the past past, was all coherent, and there was no longer that decade of sleep standing between it and the present. But Cat still needed to be sure.
What happened to the pact?
094 and I had an appointment to meet at the depot. Do you remember 094? The one that stopped you from touching the specimens we collected.
Yes, I remember. Turns out the appointment didn't have anything to do with me.
The cat suddenly jumped onto the clock stand. At its feet the great bell had long since fallen silent. The excited crowd had also left. The pale morning sunlight was cast on the clock from the carved wooden window.
I have no master. I am a wild cat. There will simply be no one to break their hearts for me and give me a home.
Disappointment started on the soles of her feet and flowed quickly through the cat's body. This was the result of six months of hard work. It's good that I'm not one of those stupid house cats. I'm independent with a personality. That's good.
Eyes moist once more, the cat closed them. The sunlight of the new year shone down on it; it was warm, but it couldn't dispel the sadness it felt inside.
Think nothing more.071Gentle soothing. I am with you.
Seven
Long corridors, bloodstains, approaching clutter of footsteps. A strong atmosphere of abhorrence came pouring in from the end of the corridor. The cat woke up immediately. The taste of blood was still in its throat. It had been having these dreams since 071's consciousness awakened.
I can't stand it, 071, that dream is too real and horrible. The cat complained.
Because that's what you saw with your own eyes. Do you remember it?
I was there? At that hotel. Oh, the place that was a hospital ten years ago?
Yes. You've been following us quietly. I tried to get you to go back. That hospital was full of danger. But you wouldn't.
I wanted to help a friend. The cat remembered, of course. When it first saw the silver-white ship land on the abandoned construction site, it was excited. The cat was suspicious by nature, but it saw honesty in the aliens' clarifying eyes. And so when these aliens, unlike humans, reached out to it, it pounced and accepted them immediately. Because it loathed humans and despised its own kind, it had lived a lonely life, and it needed friends, friends it could talk to as equals.
094 and I traveled 200 light-years to reach Earth. We did not originally know that Earth existed. We were simply ordered to examine the edge of the galaxy.071 recalls. The trip had gone well, and we had been partnered with an explorer ship from another galaxy. The Earth was so beautiful from space. We even wanted to take a walk on its blue earth. But when we entered the Earth's atmosphere we were attacked by missiles and both ships were forced to land with varying degrees of damage.
Humans are oversensitive, and their sense of self-preservation always goes too far. Cat Criticism. That's why I never liked them.
It was a misunderstanding. We didn't have a conversation with the Terrans. Everything happened too fast.
Can you have a conversation with an Earthling? The cat asked. I remember a little girl who saw you guys land too. You were unable to use either consciousness or language, both of which she did not understand.
But the little girl was kind to us. She didn't see us as different, not like the other Earthlings. The other Earthlings really scared me, they seemed to want to put us on display as specimens.
The image of the little girl appeared in the cat's mind. Big dark eyes, a kind smile, and a warm scent. She was indeed kind to you, and helped you find a place to bury the ship. The cat said.
You remembered it all. That's very kind. I was afraid my presence would damage your memory.
How could I forget. I have been with you all this time. Hiding from the Terrans, searching for your friend's ship, every day you and 094 were so tense it made my heart skip a beat.
071 grimaced. That was never a pleasant memory. The Terrans had detained a friend from another ship. Word came that they had to break into a hospital to rescue them. Carefully studying the hospital's construction, they set off into the night. The little girl is reluctant to leave, and they promise to return to see her. She actually understood, her eyes, her look showed that she took this promise to heart.
The hospital had 25 floors. They started looking on the top floor and soon met up with the Earthlings. They had just made an appointment to meet in the storage room when the battle began.
This is why I hate hospitals. Traps have been set in the hospital, but you guys had to go there. Cat tersely sighs.
There was no way around it, we had to find the Friends. The most important principle in cosmic travel is to help each other. 094 and I both have the ability to consciously control objects and can deal with Terran excesses.
He covered you. The cat continues to reminisce. You searched ward by ward. I followed you and we rode the elevator together. They blocked the elevator exits. We then climbed the air ducts, guided entirely by intuition. We finally found your friend. But only his fragmented body.
I almost went mad, so I turned back to try to save 094.I'd already lost one, I couldn't afford to lose a second. I couldn't control my emotions, and I struck a series of Terrans who stood in my way.
Blood splattered on the walls of the corridor, leaving forever shocking marks. Cat's mind replayed the scene. The terrified Terrans opened the pre-positioned high-energy magnetic field grid. The 094s that came at them went up in smoke.
I had time to stop at the magnetic field, but the intense magnetic interference was destroying my power of thought, and the destruction of the 094 brought me great anger, pain, and fear. My entire consciousness actually detaches from my physical body and enters your brain.
This clears everything up. The cat said. Only a cat could escape from a heavily guarded alien capture site. I stumbled and ran to the storage room with you in tow, it was your instinct to do so, you were still thinking about your appointment with 094. The strong magnetic field seems to be working on me as well