“Calculus.”
Roger stared at Noble, who was still standing beside the conference room table, chair unsat-in. It was a half-hour or so since he’d begun telling the story of his unusual morning commute.
“Calculus?” Roger said, frowning.
Noble nodded. “Calculus.”
“You’re sure? The cat—”
“Eloise,” Noble interrupted.
“—Eloise, who can talk now—“
“I can’t say with certainty that she can talk in terms of having a whole conversation, but yes, she can say at least one word,” Noble said, interrupting a second time.
“Can I finish?” Roger was getting annoyed.
“Yes, sorry, please go ahead,” Noble said.
Roger cleared his throat. “Eloise, who is one of our missing quantum cats, has reappeared on Arbor Day after three years of_not_ appearing on Arbor Day, and she can say at least one word, and that word is ’calculus’. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“You’re sure that’s what she said?”
“I’m sure.”
“What did she sound like?”
Noble paused. “I’m not sure how to describe it. Breathy, I guess.”
“It’s a breathy kind of word,” Roger said. “Sibilant. Cal-cu-lusss.”
“Yeah,” Noble said. “She was pretty close to my ear, besides.”
“Was there anything…anything distinctive, about her voice?”
He paused again, thinking. “I guess she sounded like how you’d expect a talking cat to sound.”
Roger furrowed his brow and leaned back in his chair. “And you’re absolutely certain that’s what she said?”
Noble nodded, chin up, chin down, decisively. “She was pretty close to my ear. I’m sure that was it.”
“Hmm,” said Roger. “Ok. So what does it mean?”
Noble shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Roger was still digesting the tale of Noble’s morning—the multiple appearances of the aspen tree with its increasing number of cats. Obviously, the detail of how the black-and-white cat, Eloise, had whispered something in Noble’s ear was at the top of his list of follow-up questions. Specifically: what had she whispered?
The problem was, the word “calculus” didn’t mean anything to Noble or Roger. The mathematical concept was related to their study of quantum entanglement, of course, but it was such a generic term that the cat might as well have said “math” or “science” or even just “quantum”.
There was also plenty of oddness around the cats, their trees, and their constant appearing and disappearing, but they had never done any talking before. In fact, they had never made any kind of unusual sounds—other than purring or meowing or the odd hiss. This was a new situation, and the word “calculus” didn’t do anything to explain it.
At least Roger seemed to believe him. Noble had been put off by his boss’s initial dismissive attitude, which felt unwarranted, given the nature of their work and the not infrequent strange happenings that came along with it. Maybe he’s just having a bad day, Noble thought, or he’s distracted with the “emotional weight” project.
They’d been busy on their latest project—trying to determine if feelings had physical mass—and they were having a devil of a time generating a consistent level of boredom in their control group. Tempers had flared; fortunately, somebody had the bright idea to pivot to measuring anger before any punches were thrown. They were making progress, but Roger had had his hands full keeping things under control.
And despite the way the day had started, Roger had gradually shifted the tone of their meeting from an interrogation to more of a simple discussion. His questions were less “did this even happen?” and more “what color were the tuxedo cat’s eyes?”
Noble had also communicated his certainty that the black-and-white cat was, in fact, Eloise—one of the cats from the initial experiment. Officially, she was simply Subject QC-17. But she had an intelligence about her, a sense of something beyond simple cat behavior and cat thoughts, and so, she was also the only one they’d given a special name. After hearing Noble’s description, even Roger agreed it must be her.
But none of this helped solve the twin mysteries of how she’d learned to talk, or what “calculus” referred to. Nor did it help with the tertiary mystery of why the cats and the trees had returned. Or the quaternary mystery of what had happened in the initial experiment to cause the whole quantum cat scenario, or any of another dozen mysteries he probably hadn’t even formally considered yet.
“Lots of questions, no answers,” Roger said, echoing Noble’s thoughts out loud. “We need help.”
Noble nodded. It was time for backup.
“We need Becca.”
…to be continued in Chapter 8…
