Cat Got Your Tongue?

By Kathrese McKee

You receive notice of your next evaluation at Culebra Research Institute one hour before the top boss arrives. You are today-years-old when you discover Dr. M. Roswell is a cat.

She pounces atop the papers on your desk. “Dr. Jonas, your most important project is behind schedule.”

The cat can talk! You leap to your feet and use your chair as a shield.

“What’s the matter?” She twitches her whiskers. “Cat got your tongue?”

“But—” You gasp for air. “How—”

The security tag on her collar reads Marmalade Roswell, PhD. She has striped, orange fur and a stern, golden gaze.

“Your project is late.” She bats your paper coffee cup off the desk and watches the dregs splash across the tiles. The boss obviously compensates for her small size with a forceful personality. “Do you like working here?”

“Of course.”

“Hmm,” she purrs. Your computer mouse follows the cup and crashes to the floor. “How long have you been employed at Culebra?”

“T-ten years. Ten years tomorrow, ma’am.” So close to getting tenure. Culebra Research Institute isn’t the easiest place to get hired, and it would suck to lose your job now.

“Dr. Jonas, perhaps you’ve grown complacent. We expect results, and our customers expect answers, on time and within budget.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stares at you, unblinking, before she slumps across your keyboard and rolls on her back, paws in the air. “Ha! You should see your face. Relax, Jonas. You know cats like to play with their prey.”

You don’t know how to respond. She just referred to you as prey, so you are not safe yet.

Marmalade raises her voice. “Butterball!”

Your faithful office companion, a massive ginger longhair, pads into your office. “Yes, boss?”

“You can talk, too?” You can’t keep the hurt out of your voice as you think of the many embarrassing things you’ve probably said while Butterball was around. “But you’re a cat.”

“I am not a cat, and of course I can talk. But it’s a secret.” Your so-called friend circles your shins and rubs against your knees. “Don’t take it personally.”

The boss reclines along the desk’s front edge to address the newcomer. “What do you think, Butterball? Is your protégé ready?”

“Absolutely.” Your office mate leaps to the windowsill, and his orange fur glows in the sunshine. “But you know, Jonas, it’s your choice.”

“My choice?”

He winks at you. “We are offering you a huge promotion, but once you transition, you cannot go back.”

“Transition? Go back?” You sound stupid, but what are they talking about?

“Oh, come now.” Marmalade yawns, showing her teeth. “You’ve been here ten years. Haven’t you noticed the steady increase in the cat population? Without a single kitten. Where do you think they—we—come from?”

“Do you mean…”

The first time you visited the lab, you couldn’t get over the hundreds of ginger tabbies on the campus as you drove to the headquarters for your interview. Like Hemingway’s famous six-toed cats, they lounged on the stairs leading to the front doors. Every human had one or two office cats. It seemed like a fun, quirky place to work.

When Dr. Getz hired you, you settled right in, happy to work on meaningful experiments. A few weeks later, Dr. Getz left—

Or did he?

You swallow hard. Rumor in town says the orange cat population started with a matching pair thirty years ago and that people contributed stray ginger cats as time went on.

But what if Getz didn’t move away?

“You can’t mean…”

Butterball examines the claws on one foot. “Yes?”

“What’s going on here, really? What’s the point?”

“The humans here work on genuine engineering and physics projects, but the lab is a cover for our real mission to form a collective of educated, compatible mutants. The cat bit is mostly a disguise.” Butterball narrows his eyes. “To stay, you must transition and become one of us. Otherwise, we wipe your memory and send you away. What a waste of time and resources that would be.”

Marmalade stops bathing her ears and straightens her collar. “You were selected for your lack of family ties, your independence. None of that was by accident. Admit it. You love it here.”

You hesitate. All your life—as a foster child, as a lonely college student and an even lonelier doctoral candidate—you have been on the outside. Excluded. You spent your free time reading books on the weekend and taking long naps. But you cherish the easy camaraderie at the lab.

You nod. “I do love it here. This is my home. I want to stay.”

Butterball twitches the tip of his tail and considers you with a triumphant expression. “Well, then, it sounds like you are ready to transition.”

“But what about my stuff? What about money?”

Marmalade stands and stretches. “What about your tax returns? Your car note? Retirement?” She hops to the floor. “Fuhgeddaboudit. In the collective, those things are no longer your concern. Instead, you get nine lives, all the food you can eat, and free health care. What’s not to like?”

A few months later, you and Butterball report to the front steps before 9 a.m. and watch a thirty-something lady park in the visitor space. Undoubtedly, she is here for the interview with Dr. Shiva, one of the senior physicists.

Butterball leans closer. “Good luck.”

You nod.

The recruit climbs the steps, gazing around at all the orange cats. She pushes her long, straight hair behind her ears, clearly nervous. Then she stops to read the entry instructions beside the security doors.

This is your moment. You nudge her ankle, purring loudly.

She looks down, and her face lights up. “What have we here?”

You widen your eyes and appeal to her with a silent meow.

That does it. She leans down to scratch your chin and check your nametag. “Ah, pleased to meet you, Jonas. What a nice welcome.”

Your protégé has arrived.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kathrese McKee, author and owner of Word Marker Edits, writes thrilling stories for readers who enjoy pirates, princesses, aliens, and super powers combined with life’s difficult questions. Her motto is Adventure on Every Page! Kathrese is an active member of ACFW, The Woodlands chapter. She is a member of Realm Makers, the Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and The Christian PEN: Proofreaders and Editors Network.

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