"Radioactive Cats" by Kathleen McGowan

"Radioactive Cats"

Kate M^cGowan

Honors English 10/1^st hour

02/16/05

            "Dr. Howard," came the voice over the intercom, "Mr. Danaher is here to see you."

            Frank Howard looked up from the paper he had been perusing in the direction of the voice. "Send him in."

            The intercom shut off with a click, and Frank continued to scan the text. Halfway down the page, he clicked his tongue on the side of his mouth. Whether this was a derogatory remark or not one would never know, because a lissome cat with an emerald collar and vibrant jade fur leapt onto the desk next to him.

            "Well Banshee," he said, stroking its ears, "where have you been?"

            The cat made no reply; it's dark eyes meeting his in animal curiosity.

            A start from the doorway made it flex around and meow in agitation. The man in the doorway had made the offending noise, and from the look on his face had never seen a green cat before. Frank assumed he could only be Hugh Danaher. He stood.

            "Mr. Danaher I presume?"

            "Yes, yes," he said as he recovered himself, sitting in the seat he was offered. "You'll excuse my interruption; that cat of yours is quite a marvel."

            "Isn't she?" said Frank smiling, and turned to the cat. "Come on Banshee, down with you."

            The cat leapt from the desk, landed in a crouch on the floor, and sauntered off.

            "She's a beauty," said Frank as he seated himself again. "Now, you came in a manner of some urgency from the sound of your phone call--"

            "Yes, yes," Danaher cut him off, lowering his voice as though the intercom or clouds outside twenty-five stories above Chicago had ears and were listening. "I need to see the test subjects before I can continue to contribute to thisÉendeavor any more. And I must know," he leaned forward. "What are these things capable of?"

            "Nothing that normal cats aren't," said Frank offhandedly, "except that their intelligence is a bit higher, and they adapt much more quickly to conditions than normal cats."

            "Ah. Well I'd like to see them, if you don't mind."

            "Right this way."

            Frank led him through the back office door and into the maze of passages that made up the complex. After ages of metal corridors, they came to the core where there was a long window. Danaher gasped.

            Rows and rows of kittens of every color were housed there, each in its own bubble branching off of a tube as thick as a tree trunk. Some were suspended in what Danaher could only assume was amniotic fluid, some were sleeping, while others played with simple toys or peered out of the. A few of the eldest ones were scratching at each other through the barriers. 

            "Those are almost ready for processing," Frank commented, pointing them out. " Harry here," he indicated a purple one, "can be taken out today as our test subject." He pressed a series of buttons on what Danaher had assumed was his wristwatch, and to the other man's astonishment, found themselves in the holding room.

            "It's futile to think that we could walk everywhere," Frank said, noticing his expression. "The walk is good from the office to the center, but the center itself is so intricate that it would take days to walk the entire thing, even more if one got lost. Certain designated spots are 'safe points' for people to emerge."

            "Emerge?"

            "Well, teleport as the rest of the world would call it. Each place has a code, and when accessed by someone with the proper device, they will be transported from wherever they are to the 'safe point.' Really quite ingenious."

            "Indeed. But what about the devices? Are they all wristwatches?"    

            "Certainly, and they don't function or show any of the codes except for one outside of the complex. The code for accessing the building is available to anyone, and any device brought in or taken out is run through the clarification process at the front desk. They can run checks and keep tags on the employees."

            "Fascinating," said Danaher as they continued along the catwalk towards Harry's bubble.

            Neither of the men noticed, or would have cared, that Banshee was following them. She skirted into one of the few shadows she could find under the bright lights, watching them remove Harry from his bubble. The central emerald on the collar began to glow, faintly at first, then brighter as she followed the men out.  Frank opened the steel door into the testing room. She watched it for a moment, then turned and ran at the wall running perpendicular to it. Like a fish in water, she slid through it and was gone.

            She reappeared in the corner of the wide, high-ceilinged chamber. Across it she could see the two men and the purple ball that was Harry. The emerald glowed brighter as she watched, sending an inaudible signal to her fellows.

            Harry was set on the floor, and performed a number of simple tricks that delighted the visitor. She watched Frank, knowing what was coming. She had been put through that once, and was the only one ever to survive one of the rigorous tests for the benefactors. Survival had earned her a place with the director, Dr. Frank Howard. It was he that she called Master after the fashion of her own kind. But it was he that killed her fellows, slaughtered her race when they proved below the standard of his testsÉ Her eyes narrowed, watching the proceedings become more and more difficult. Come on Harry, come on!

            But he couldn't do it, and she knew that before the final test had begun. Hers was the elite breed, the strongest, and the other colors had yet to live up to any standard she had set. How could they? They were all pure breeds, engineered and assembled exactly as they were intended, and she was not. The workers still talked about the day when two of the specimens got loose. Hinraad and Jasmine had been almost ready to be tested, and the former, sensing the danger, made his escape. His partner had followed, and they eluded the guards and workers that ran around searching in a complex so unused to anything outside their tightly crafted schedule.

            When they had finally been found, Hinraad was taken to be tested, and he died. Jasmine was returned to her place, the workers not wishing to disturb their director, but she had birthed a litter of kittens some time later, all of which died except for one. The director had been intrigued by this small interbred case, and had kept her in the same way as the other cats. She was called "the experiment," and had been named only when she had passed the director's tests. Now she roamed the complex, calling to her brethren to be ready, that if Harry died she would set them free.

            Frank barked a command and Harry tried to respond, but couldnÕt. His legs buckled, and his body fell to the cold metal floor, unmistakably dead. Without a word they left, shutting off the lights and closing the door with a clang that reverberated in her ears. In the dark she heard the whine of the machines picking up Harry's body, taking it where all of the dead test subjects went. Then the whine ceased, and all was quiet.

            Banshee sat alone in the dark, her eyes kindling. The emerald glowed again, sending her message to her imprisoned fellows. Be ready for me. I'm coming.

            "I have to say Doctor," said Danaher when they were back in Frank's office, "I didn't think this little investment would work out. But now I see that, to the contrary, it has."

            "I'm always good on my promises Mr. Danaher," said Frank with a smile. "I'll see you next month?"

            "Most certainly," said Danaher as he made for the door, but never got there. A long, piercing wail split the processed air. Danaher stood rooted to the spot, petrified, his face white. Frank turned to look at the door, and in burst a host of cats, jade like his own, and they pounced upon him and Danaher.

            Banshee burst through the wall opposite him, wailing like her namesake, and at her command they tore the men to pieces. But they had doomed themselves, for they were not prepared to live in this uncontrolled environment. One by one they fell among their shredded enemies, never having been farther than the door. Banshee scanned the off ice and hallway. They were littered with the fallen bodies of her comrades. Anger turning to resolve, she came to the front desk and placed the building under lockdown.

            In the holding room all the workers froze, staring at the intercom when the lockdown signal went off. But they all crumpled to the floor soon after the sulfuric acid began spraying from the ceiling hoses. On the camera she watched them fall. Just like Harry she thought. Just like Harry.