17 7. Troubled Dreams (pt. 2)

After a while, she turned on the TV at a low volume, channel-surfing 'til she ended up on a foreign-language news broadcast featuring some weaselly guy in a God-awful polo shirt. It was hard to stay focused - so much more comfortable to just lie here bundled up as she kept gently scratching - but I gathered that this was the president of some South American nation, and I realized with a sigh that, like about 190% of all news stories these days, it was about the pandemic.

Even if you were perfectly healthy, took all precautions, and stayed totally isolated, there was just no escaping it. Government schmucks, pontificating pundits, TV preachers, special reports on the emergence of catgirls as an identifiable demographic/interest group...I was starting to think I might go crazy from constant exposure to it all. It sure wasn't doing my stress level any favors; I wanted to grab the TV off its stand, shake it by the figurative lapels, and yell: none of this has anything to do with me, damn it! Leave me ALONE!

But...I couldn't tear myself away. I didn't enjoy rubbernecking, but I didn't want to not be informed; there was always this nagging suspicion that it'd be the one piece of information I didn't absorb that'd lead to the critical slip-up, the mistake that'd take away everything I knew and leave something else staring back at me from the mirror... With a shudder, I tried not to think about it.

A voice-over was translating, but it was hardly necessary. Many politicians whose support was based less in knowing how to manage a country° or being able to articulate a vision for a better tomorrow°° than in selling themselves as being Take-Charge Macho Men°°° who Knew What To Do°°°° weren't taking well to an opponent that couldn't be bribed or threatened, didn't care about polls, and required no funding to operate. For authoritarian cretins whose whole brand lay in being seen as In Control Of The Situation, its constant public reminders that they weren't were an existential threat.

° (Sort of.)

°° (However unrealistic.)

°°° (They weren't.)

°°°° (They didn't.)

And so more than a few tin-pot dictators and Very Legitimate Presidents-for-Life had begun to pretend that things were totally under control and any suggestions to the contrary were lies spread by their enemies - which would've been absurd in any case, but when people were ending up with actual cat ears and tails° it was sublimely ridiculous. These types always relied on telling people not to believe their own eyes and ears, but it's a much harder sell when an increasing number of your neighbors are no longer strictly human.

° (And, frequently, a brand-new X chromosome and accoutrements.)

"We don't have to worry about contagion," the translator was saying. I didn't really need to hear any more; once you were over being flabbergasted, it was the same old song. The virus was being overhyped, transformation rates were actually low, it'd probably just go away, blah blah blah; why did we have to listen to this? Feeling annoyed, I nuzzled harder into Nicole's lap, rubbing the top of my head against her thigh. God, why did my skull feel funny...?

She didn't seem to notice, absent-mindedly scritching while she watched the TV intently. Suddenly, she tensed,° leaned forward, and burst out with a laugh. "Therrre!" she cried. "Nyahahah, didja see it? He was totally about to lick his paw." She glanced down at me, grinning, her whiskers twitching. "Mya, you missed it? Wish I could rrrewind. Maybe it's on NyewTube."

° (This really gets your attention when the person doing it has their protractible claws on your scalp.)

I stared up at her for a moment, confused, until my brain caught up. I laughed, then felt bad, then felt weird about feeling bad. Laughing at a sick man might be in poor taste, but in this case, hadn't he earned it? If there was such a thing as karma, surely this'd count. And yet...

"Do...do you think he knows?" I mused. I knew the virus induced specific behaviors in the host to help spread itself, but were the infected aware of it? Well, Nicole'd apparently noticed her own addled behavior and self-isolated, so it must not prevent them from realizing, but would you see it if you weren't actively looking? Would that be better or worse, to know, to realize that it was too late, there was nothing you could do, that it was only a matter of time before your life changed forever...?

She gave me a funny look for a moment, and I found myself fidgeting uneasily; then she rubbed my head again, and I calmed down. "Well, hsssomebody does," she said, and growled softly, "'cause they cut away in the nick of time. Dunniaow if he's the type with 'handlers' keepin' him in the dark, but he's joinin' the club whether he likes it or nyat." She frowned. "Wait, is that jackass gonnya be the first cat politican? Can we get a do-overrr?"

"Nya, it got the goverrrnor of Florida," I said, trying to remember back across (what felt like) billions of headlines that I'd taken in since this all started. "And a congressman or two; nyat sure about heads of state. Prrrobably nyo avoiding the 'jackass' part, though." I shifted my hips under the blanket; for some reason, my tailbone felt funny.

She nodded, gently massaging the nape of my neck; that pleasant rumbling came back. "Guess those guys can just stay as isolated as they want. They've got the money 'n connections."

I shrugged. "Then nyagain, seems like that just makes 'em think they're invincible - like this shmuck. Guess it's less uncomfortable to be in denial than to realize they aren't as in-contrrrol as they think." She gave me another funny look at that; I wasn't sure why.

She killed the TV, and we sat there in silence for a while, but I couldn't get the question out of my head. I was hesitant to ask again, but Nicole seemed to read my expression. "I dunniaow what it's like for everrryone else," she said at last. "I don't think it can, like, prrrevent you from realizing, but at first I was just so blissed-out that I didn't think about it. And even when I did cotton nyan, it was the kitties that kept me from goin' nyout and sprrreading it. I think it plays on our loneliness; like, I knyew I was feeling funny, but I just wanted to be with someone. Lucky I had all my li'l 'someones' rrright here."

She gave an affectionate rub of the head to the calico, who'd jumped up onto the arm of the couch, and who proceeded to mosey on over and curl up atop me, pinning my arm to my side. I tried to free it, but he was positioned exactly so's I couldn't move without disturbing him. "I think Scrrraps likes you," Nicole chuckled. "He was as skittish as the rrrest when I was changing."

Something about the emphasis there struck me funny; but more than that, her description of the experience seemed naggingly familiar, yet I couldn't put my finger on how. Maybe I was just surprised to find out she had struggled with it? Honestly, when I realized she'd managed to self-isolate during her change, I'd sort of assumed she had an easier time maintaining control because she wanted this; like maybe if you didn't fight it, it wouldn't fight back. Clearly ridiculous from an immunological standpoint, but then this whole situation was ridiculous...

"'Likes me,' or just 'passive-aggrrressively clingy?'" I said dryly, after a moment of trying and failing to figure out what was bugging me there.

She laughed; her tail twitched distractingly again. "When nyew'rrre a cat, those're the same thing."

I wriggled my shoulder in a vain attempt to dislodge Scraps. "You're tarring yourself with that brrrush niaow, you realize."

"And you'll notice I'm nyat all clingy with you," she chided. "Nya just trigger my latent materrrnal instincts, that's all." She gently kneaded my scalp; it was a welcome relief from the weird feelings in my ears and skull, but I was starting to feel pleasantly drowsy again.

"Mrr, didn't mean it like that," I murmured, nuzzling into her touch. "'N I can take care of myaself, anyway. Just...'s such a cat thing, trrryin' to monyapolize someone 'n then nyacting all, all aloof..."

She let out a mirthful snort; I wasn't sure what she found so funny, but I could feel her trembling as she tried to suppress further laughter. After a minute or so, she settled down, heaved a sigh, and rose from the couch, sliding one of the paisley throw-pillows over for me to rest my head on. "Well," she said, "I gotta rrrun out for a bit; we'll need grocerrries anya couple other things these next few days."

"Wha...?" I glanced up at her, mildly annoyed. This'd felt so nice; why were we stopping? "Mrr, come back..."

She smiled empathetically.° "Mya, I don't wannya go either, but you're nyat in any condition to do it and this's the first chance I've had since you came overrr. I'll be back in a little while."

° (I was getting surprisingly practiced at reading expressions on such a distinctly non-human face.)

Despite the pleasant drowsiness, that discomfiting strangeness from earlier was beginning to creep back into my conscious mind. Nicole's attentions had soothed me and distracted me, but the sense of alienness hadn't really gone away; I was out of my element, out of my space, but my space was all weird and unfamiliar-smelling now, my body still felt like it wasn't fitting the way my brain expected, and something was nagging at the back of my mind that I couldn't put my finger on. "Don't, uh...don't go...!" I said, surprised at the urgency in my voice.

Nicole seemed a little surprised as well. "Sorry, I gotta. I really will be back as soon as I can, I prrromise." She thought for a moment, tail lashing, then turned the TV back on and switched it to some movie channel. "Therrre," she said, giving me one last head-rub. "Wouldn't want you getting lonely."

That struck me as a little odd, but before I could say anything more she was out the door and locking it behind her; a few minutes later, I heard her car fire up and pull out of the driveway. I, meanwhile, remained on the couch, pinned by Scraps. Not that I couldn'tve moved him, but cats have a way of making it seem wrong to disturb them even when they're in your way. After a bit, he stirred, stretched, and stepped across my face and down onto the couch cushion, where he slipped under the blanket and curled up against my chest.

We laid there a while. It was strangely comforting to have the little critter nestled against me like this; granted, he was probably just looking for the warmest available spot, but I couldn't complain too much. I scratched under his chin, beneath the covers, and he began to purr more forcefully than any cat I'd ever known; it felt like he was trying to do enough for the both of us. What ridiculous li'l creatures they are, I thought, as that pleasant rumbling started in again; they go out of their way to look all poised and detached, then the next thing you know they're losing it at the merest scent of food, or getting weirdly clingy, or kneading your-

I squirmed, let out a churr of annoyance, and shifted so that Scraps was further down, against my stomach; he was "kneading" right into my nipples, which were still tender. "Mrr, watch it, nya damn cat," I murmured.

The drowsiness wasn't quite as overpowering this time, and I found myself drifting towards sleep more gradually. My mood was improving a little as well; fuzzy cat time was definitely helping, and while I still felt a little...unmoored? from my body, it was getting to be less alarming and more just strange. Nicole's living room was dark now except for the TV; I hadn't really been paying attention, but as I slowly nodded off, snatches of dialogue flitted through my brain like a half-overheard conversation in a restaurant.

"-afraid to be destroyed and re-created, aren't you?" But that was normal; who wouldn't be? Would you still be you if that happened, or someone else? Even if you were, what was the purpose in-

"-with a purpose, wouldn't you say? Maybe not such a bad disease after all." No, that was absurd; it was turning everything upside-down, robbing people of their identity, forcing them into hiding, making everyone worry...

"We don't have to worry about contagion anymore-" I frowned, confused; wasn't this that thing on the news earlier? Had the evening somehow lapped itself, or was someone else out there trying to pretend that this was-

"-not too terrible, is it? Most people would give anything to be turned into something else." Ridiculous - sure, people might go to absurd lengths to look younger, taller, more fit, but wanting to be what they imagined to be a better version of themselves wasn't the same as wanting to not be them, was it? And who would do that to you, destroy what was fine the way it was only to re-make it as a different thing, like...like you were just so much clay...

I might've dropped off for a bit; the next thing I remembered was Scraps stirring beside me and slinking out from under the blanket to go off who-knew-where. I shivered and pulled the covers tight, feeling a little apprehensive as I finally succumbed to sleep.

"-dreamt he was a man, and loved it. But now the dream is over..."