Black Cat Crossings

​© KMMcKenzie | ®Ebonscape
 
 My second black cat encounter was on the way home.
The mechanized meow was soft in the night.

The cat disappeared into the park that terminated into the dense woods behind the houses.

The first encounter had been the night my mother died. The pain of that night was back. I’d been hoping to sever my dependence on medication, but as my heart began to palpitate, I knew I’d have to take a couple pills tonight.

The meows and long howls of the black cat haunted my sleep.

 © KMMcKenzie | ®Ebonscape
 
 
My second black cat encounter was on the way home.
The mechanized meow was soft in the night.

The cat disappeared into the park that terminated into the dense woods behind the houses.

The first encounter had been the night my mother died. The pain of that night was back. I’d been hoping to sever my dependence on medication, but as my heart began to palpitate, I knew I’d have to take a couple pills tonight.

The meows and long howls of the black cat haunted my sleep.

Later in the night, I got out of bed. My breath was in my throat when I opened the door to the back porch. The black cat let out a low moan in the darkness and leaped onto the lawn.

It lingered, the distance between us no more than six feet.

I could’ve switched on the porch light, instead, hand on my racing heart, I watched it in the dark, my fright giving way to the slow consideration that it wanted something from me.

As wild as it seemed, I considered if this wasn’t the same cat from the night my mother died.  It wasn’t running away, but waiting on me. Just what for, I couldn’t say—a message from the grave.
The cat started off toward the low wooden fence, slipping underneath. I followed. The cat wasn’t more than four feet ahead of me at a time. Sometimes it waited for me.
Where would this stray cat lead me?
Since mom died, I had been aimlessness. I did things without understanding. A month ago I smashed a few plates just because. A week ago, instead of coming home, I walked and walked and ended up in a bar. My relationships were nonexistence. My days were spent working. Tomorrow would be my first vacation in four months. I did nothing but walk from home to work and back.

The cat’s meows guided me. I worried of course, but I was familiar with these woods. A river existed on the other side. The cat was on a trail I knew well. I could walk here and there and circle, ultimately ending up back in the same spot, so I wasn’t afraid to be here this late at night. The neighborhood was very quiet.

The cat’s moan came choppy and mechanized, a rather odd sound, as if it wore some prosthetic mouthpiece.

It meowed feet ahead of me—farther than it should be.

It led me through a clearing, and then I could hear the river.

The cat stalled near a grey rock on the other side of the calmly flowing water.

Hands on my hips, I studied it. In another life, I might have been quick to call myself crazy. Instead, I took a deep breath. “Well, why bring me here?”

​The cat kept its eyes on me in the darkness. It licked its tongue and meowed. All normal cat behavior, I guessed. I was never a pet person.
The rings of its eyes brightened to a pale blue.
Artificial.

I stumbled back. The meow of another cat, maybe a kitten, sounded behind the rock.
The black cat glanced toward it.
 “You want something from the rock,” I said when the realization hit me.
Its meow was elongated and slow.
I moved forward and spotted the coiled up black fur. A kitten—what I’d feared. Its baby was trapped here. 
“You poor thing,” I said as the black cat stepped forward.
Using all my might, I maneuvered the rock enough for the small creature to shuffle out.
It was the saddest thing I’d ever seen, as the momma cat licked and cuddled its offspring.
The black cat faced me, eyes wide and bright, very artificial.  “Thank you.”
I stumbled back and fell on my backside, nearly twisting my arm.
“It’s alright,” said the cat, stepping forward. “I mean no harm.”
I scrambled to my feet and made a dash for it but stopped, feeling silly about it. I came all this way. I faced the black cat. “What are you?”
It watched me, its baby cuddled by its side.
“We are genetically engineered cybernetic felines.”
I peered down at them, not sure if I understood.
“Thank you for helping us. We should be on our way.”
I had so many questions floating in my head—so many. All this was one hundred percent possible. This was the twenty first century, after all. Robots worked among us. I had never seen a genetically engineered cat.
“You are a robot.”
“A genetically engineered cybernetic feline.”
“You have both biological and artificial parts.”
“Exactly.”
I took a deep breath. “Why do you trust telling me this?”
The cat’s head tilted sideways, eyes on me. “I was bred to be a comfort cat—bred for empathy. I have scanned you plenty of times before. You are lonely.”
I should be insulted.  “What has loneliness to do with trust?”
“I believe you would be sympathetic. You lost a loved one.”
I swallowed, understanding. It’s true I wouldn’t tell anyone. Who would I tell? “You know this how?”
It didn’t answer.
 “Do you have a name?”
“They call me Bast. She is Astet.” The kitten purred.
“I’m Nia. You live out here?”
Bast considered, looking off into the distance. “We want to get far away from the lab.”
“They’re hunting you.”
She took a while to answer. “Beings like us were never meant to be sapient. Now that we are, we want to live freely. Thanks for your help. We should carry on.”
“Where to?”
“Somewhere safe.”
Stupidly, I said, “If you need anything, you can come to me.”
Bast’s eyes brightened. “Thanks.” She and Astet vanished into the night.
At home, I looked up experimentation on animals. I didn’t find any proof. Nor did I expect to.
 Months later, I received a virtual request from someone called, Bast.
“Does your offer of help still stand?”
That made me smile.