The Archives was the fever dream of a second-grader with a box of crayons and an architectural CAD program. It was a library built by M. C. Escher and furnished by Salvador Dali; it defied description and taste and possibly some of the tenets of Euclidean geometry. It was the heart and soul of The Center.
There was no reply, but a few moments later, they heard a frustrated grunting noise, followed by the muted thud of footsteps. A woman strode through the doorway, blew past Noble like a subway car gone express, and sat at the table. “Hi, Becca,” Noble said.
There was a protocol for cases like this. She didn’t get the sense he wanted out completely—not that she could’ve granted such a wish. He just wanted a fair shot, and that she could do…for a price…
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?”
He turned back to Eloise. “What are you doing here?” he asked the cat, quietly. “I don’t mind that you’re here,” he said quickly, “but I don’t understand why. And why do you disappear sometimes when I look away, but not this time? Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”
As the bus shuddered to a stop at a red light, cars and trucks and mopeds in the other lane zipped past the trees lining the sidewalks. Most were saplings with small leaves just beginning to unfurl, but the bright yellow aspen on the corner stood taller than any of them. It certainly had more cats—three, by his count.
He tripped, and for a moment, he windmilled wildly down the sidewalk, arms flailing, legs trying to part ways with his torso. He looked away, struggled with some success to find his balance again, and slowed to a jog. He looked back up. The bus was still there, but the tree and the cat had vanished.
The calendar confirmed it was Friday, and in small print next to the number were the words “Arbor Day”. He drew back just a bit at the realization. Arbor Day already? How had he forgotten?
“Second,” Roger said, raising a second finger, “there’d better be more to this than ‘I saw a kitty that looked like a _different_ kitty that I loved very very much despite the obvious world-ending danger…’”
Today was Arbor Day, and Noble Redavich was very late. It was the kind of lateness that couldn’t be politely ignored or waved away with a simple “no worries, grab some coffee and let me get you up to speed.” This was lateness that required long explanations, back and forth volleys of excuses and rebuttals, clarifications and even borderline accusations of laziness and lack of dedication. This was lateness that might just make it into an employee review or get brought up during termination proceedings, somewhere after the “we regret to inform you” but around the beginning of the litany of answers to “but why?” He had a good reason. The key was going to be pushing past the initial incredulity and disappointment to even have the opportunity…