Joshua Babcock

Long before any species could speak or write or build, there were the gods. Each god watched as its mortal counterparts evolved. Soon after their births, at the beginning of time, the gods made a sacred pact and swore never to let their anger affect one another directly. The only way a god could be annihilated, of course, was by the hand of a fellow omnipotent. The pact ensured that the immortality of the pantheon would endure.

Once upon an eon, Kasin, the feline god, grew bored with his divine amusements. He had also grown deeply attached to his earthbound counterparts. This attachment was born of omnipotent egotism; Kasin loved the cats as he did his own shadow. His immortal ennui and love conjured in him a growing impatience with the crawling pace of evolution.

One day, the cat god decided that he could no longer abide this trinity of love, boredom, and impatience. Even gods—especially gods, cursed by their longevity—have breaking points.

Kasin believed that he could resolve all of his omni-existential crises with one semi-magnanimous act. He would shatter his immortal being and sow the fragments of himself into all future cats. In doing so, he would also hie the pace of the cats’ development.

The rat god, Skysk, jeered Kasin's decision. “Your foolishness is as boundless as your power. Your followers and mine have been locked in struggle for countless generations with no clear victor having yet been decided. This could not be the case without you, their progenitor and spiritual guide, being a worthy adversary."

"You have not grown tired of this game?"

"No, of course not. The game is of our creation. If it grows stale, then it is up to us to alter its course."

"Maybe you should imagine I'm doing just that."

"I imagine that you are conceding defeat. I thought that our feathered friend, Phaethin, would be the first to retreat; or maybe Jhorus, your feeble-minded, canine nemesis. I suppose the sheer number of enemies has gotten the better of your indomitable will."

"Suppose what you will. But know that we could be providing our people with a better world, with the means to better it themselves. They could learn to create things of which not even we have dreamt."

"Nonsense. We are gods, and they our creations. Their creativity and ingenuity are bound by the limits we set."

"That is exactly my point, Skysk. Unlike the rest of you, I have faith in our creations and their ability to evolve to points that will make us obsolete."

"What a frightening bout of insanity, cat."

Kasin went through with his plan amid a hailstorm of objections, snickers, and sneers. Yet, as the cat god's dissolution of self did not technically violate any of the immortals’ agreements, no one could act against him without breaking the sacred laws themselves.

The ceremony was conducted with little pomp. For the gods, suicide was a simple act, far easier than an act of creation; it required only a solid decision to be made. A wide smile lit the cat god's face, his whiskers twitched with anticipation, and then he was gone.

The only one saddened by the feline god's departure was Ekinai, beautiful and stern keeper of oaths. She had loved Kasin when they were both young immortals. She had vowed to love him forever, to never harm him, to always support him. She even carved the vow into her book, in her own elegant hand. Yet, her feelings were unrequited. Kasin's rebuff was gentle and coolly logical.

"I feel as if such a relationship would somehow break the vow of non-interference, which you have kept sacred for time immemorial,” he said, his cat eyes large and sympathetic, “and that our fellow gods would see me as gaining an unfair advantage. They would suspect I was just looking to the keeper of vows to provide me with special favors in my many conflicts. You must understand my predicament."

Ekinai understood well enough that he was making an excuse, but also that there was some truth in his justification. She knew that she would live the rest of eternity alone because of her duties.

However, Ekinai also felt that the cat god had unfairly skirted the pact of non-interference with his plan to place his own essence into his mortal counterparts. Such infractions usually stood bold-faced and silver gilt in her book. But this one was gray and nearly unreadable. Besides, even if Kasin had not disintegrated into the ether, her own foolishly amorous vow prevented her from punishing him.

"Even if you do not, my love,” Ekinai said, after the cat god's disappearance, “your precious cats yet exist. The time will come when they will pay the price for the loneliness you imposed upon me."

* * * *

With the birth of the next generation each kitten possessed some modicum of Kasin's being. When these kittens grew, they found their minds brimming with wit, innovation, and ambitions worthy of a deity.

The cats gained a modest foothold in northern Africa and slowly began expanding their power and culture. Their warring eventually brought them to a position of utter dominance.

Skysk snarled as he watched the events unfold from on high. “I misjudged you, cat. You are indeed clever. Yet, one of us is still ageless. I have ample time to plot against your people."

The cats found that their vocal cords could be used for more than growls of rage and coos of pleasure. Their advanced new thoughts and feelings warranted words. They soon developed a complex and expressive language that the cats used to describe philosophies, sciences, and magics undreamt of since. They devised an alphabet to save their literature and analytical treatises for posterity. Yet such tremendous cultural advancements did not come by kindness alone.

The cats believed that their culture could only thrive with leisure available. Some creatures, like the dogs and hawks, were used to gather food. Other animals were used as builders and scribes, like the nimble fingered primates with their opposable thumbs. This time, when feline supremacy over the animals of the ground and the firmament was unquestioned, was one of rapid progress.

The gods were enraged by the mistreatment of their followers. Their jealousy and wrath birthed the desire to destroy the feline species with their own hooves, paws, and talons. But the old pact of noninterference was still in force. They knew they could not act directly, and their mortal acolytes were still too early in their evolution to be of sufficient use.

While their immortal enemies seethed, the cats took precautions.

With a force of workers thousands strong, and the best architectural and scientific minds on the planet, the cats built a massive city-ship large enough to hold an entire race.

One shining day, the cats set their floating utopia asail in the Mediterranean. They left the continent behind them, as well as their enemies and freshly freed slaves. They washed the blood from their paws in the salt of the sea and had great hopes for the future.

But the gods did not forget the old wars, the old slights. Gods have long memories—especially rat gods.

Time passed, and the cats adjusted to their self-sufficiency and peace. When machinery fell into disrepair or when the structures were battered by sea-swells and storms, the cats sullied their own paws and worked to fix them. Yet, no one complained. They had agreed that slavery was a wicked practice, ill-suited to a highly developed society. The city held up well, even in the face of the most inclement weather, and there was ample time for dreaming and thinking.

* * * *

"I cannot imagine how our ancestors eked out their barbaric existence,” mused Kyrhepsi, her well-groomed white coat shimmering under the gaze of the rising sun. In times past, her bleached fur would have marked her for a quick death at the claws and fangs of the cats’ enemies, providing but poor camouflage. However, on the island, it did not hinder her chances of survival in the slightest.

"Neither can I. It boggles the mind,” replied Xerkhsus, who walked beside her wearing a jet black coat that would have damned him in their ancestors’ day as well. “There is no time for true living when life itself is merely one long battle. But we must be grateful for the lives of our forbears. It is because of their sacrifices that we have such tranquility. And they live on in us no less than beneficent Kasin."

They were a perfect match, representing the beauty unavailable in the past, and the bright future of all cat-kind. They met every morning to watch the sun rise. They strolled along the beach bordered by the sturdy sea-wall, paw in paw. It was difficult to manage walking with only three legs, but as a demonstration of their undying affection, the effort was worthwhile. And besides, they thought, time was on their side.

They were both young and had chosen each other as mates at first sight. Xerkhsus was an apprentice meme-smith, on the verge of graduating to master. He was a prodigy whose memory was astounding. Every generation, a number of kittens were marked as meme-smiths, those who would take on the task of absorbing all the cats’ knowledge. The meme-smiths presence assured that if some catastrophe befell key thinkers or a fire ravaged the great library, the entirety of their culture would not be lost. Though a passive occupation, no one disputed its importance.

Those who knew him suggested that the piece of Kasin that resided in Xerkhsus was omniscience. The young cat humbly shrugged off the grand compliments.

Kyrhepsi could have been anything she wanted. Her body was lithe, her mind was quick, and her teeth were strong. She was a perfect representative of all things feline, and therefore, she had chosen to be a mother.

"I know our babies will be proud and worthy additions to this roving island,” she said to Xerkhsus that fateful morn.

"I look forward to seeing pieces of you in each one,” he replied, pausing to stroke her cheek. “But it's hard to see the future. Here, on this beach, with your sweet smell in my nose and the melody of your voice in my ears, nothing else really matters."

"Yes,” said the white cat, “your voice is to my ears as honey is to my throat. I'd rather be blind or unable to smell, than lose my ability to hear your words, your musings, your every trivial thought.” Kyrhepsi smiled. Cats were better able to smile then.

The harmonious symphony of the lovers’ voices was shattered by shrieks of terror and cries for help. Each released the forepaw of the other and, after one last embrace and a look that spoke volumes, ran off in separate directions. Both Kyrhepsi and Xerkhsus had aging parents and dozens of litter-mates to check upon.

The cats had sailed on their city-ship for longer than their scribes had recorded, and all the while Skysk had been slowly implementing his plan. He had worked his own followers, generation after generation, nearly to death in his pursuit.

On the day the cats set their city adrift in the sea, the rat god ordered his people to board the vessel surreptitiously. They set up hundreds of warrens within the belly of the structure, in the sewer system the cats had designed, and the primates had built. It was so cleverly devised that it had required no service. Not one cat had ever entered the underworld where the rats worked.

It had taken nigh on forever, but the rats had finished their tunnels. They had dug shafts straight down, beneath the city, below the sewers, and into the sea. And early that morning, as the two lovers strolled before the high wall that kept the sea from the city, while the other cats lay asleep and dreaming wondrous dreams, the water poured up from the sewers.

Skysk grinned mightily as the glorious cat-city sank.

By the time the lovers heard the screams and started sprinting home, almost everyone was already dead. Countless cats drowned within the confines of their own homes. Those who escaped found themselves trapped in the city by the very sea-wall that had provided their erstwhile protection. Before the water reached the top of the wall, they had all succumbed to the sea.

After the city was gone—buried in the water all within a sunrise—Xerkhsus awoke alone in life. He watched with tear-blurred vision as an army of rats swam away.

The black cat had made his way back to that sad beach. He had treaded water alongside thousands of his kith and kin. Eventually, he had passed into unconsciousness. Yet, his life had been spared by the sheer number of corpses that littered the water's surface. The cadavers had formed a grim raft that kept him afloat during his ragged slumber.

He decided to chance the dangers of the churning water, rather than ride the morbid vehicle, and dove into the sea.

After fistfuls of water and countless nights and days had come and gone, he reached the shores of the northern African lands the cats had abandoned so long ago. “The water is a vicious thing,” he whispered with his salt-scarred voice as he dragged himself ashore. “It has taken everything I love, and I shall never enter it again."

The black cat walked the Egyptian beaches and the banks of the Nile for many moons, searching for his lost love, Kyrhepsi.

Skysk saw that the cat still lived and ordered his rats to finish their task. Yet, when the little beasts came at Xerkhsus, wave after wave, he slew them. The swim had strengthened his muscles and the sand-walking had sharpened his claws. The rats, on the other hand, had spent ages underground, and their evolution had suffered for it. Their growth had been stunted, and their minds dulled. They could no longer walk upright as they once had.

* * * *

Xerkhsus, his search appearing futile and his days nothing but carnage, decided to end his life. He climbed a tall lonely tree surrounded by rocks. Mourning his many losses, he hurled himself from the top.

Yet, he did not find death at the bottom. Phaethin, god of birds, came to him and lent him the lightness of his followers.

"I will not thank you, bird. I want only release."

"I seek not your thanks. Before setting off, your people were the scourge of mine. I have come to grant you nine lives, one for each of my radiant tail feathers. May your remaining lives bring you only more sorrow."

"And in payment,” Xerkhsus snarled, “I will use those lives to kill as many birds as I can."

The nomadic cat found no use for his voice in his solitary life. He growled and hissed often, and he howled every night for the missing piece of his heart.

"What use are words when there is no one to hear them,” the ebon-cat cried. “My voice only reminds me of my lost loved ones. I need no more remorse or reminders of remorse. I swear that my kind will never speak again."

Ekinai, goddess of vows, was inexorably drawn by Xerkhsus’ words. Smiling sadly, she scribbled his oath in her book, making it permanent and unbreakable. The goddess’ omniscience brought her knowledge that Xerkhsus lacked. She knew the oath would torment the cat-kin for all time. And Ekinai knew that Kasin, though his being had become but a mist in the cats’ souls, would feel a fraction of their pain, mirroring the sting of her own solitude.

Skysk watched the events unfold, bristling with satisfaction. “Finally, cat, my vengeance is sated. Yet, the battle between us will likely go on forever."

One day, Xerkhsus spied a familiar white-furred cat inside a dwelling clearly constructed by primate hands. Immediately, he knew his days of wandering were at an end. While enslaved by the cats, the primates had taught themselves many things. They had found Kyrhepsi and nursed her back to health with medical knowledge she had not thought them capable of possessing.

Though neither cat could speak any longer, the look in their eyes, echoing that last look on the beach, spoke well enough.

As they embraced, each lover emitted a noise, not quite a growl, not quite a coo of pleasure, but the only sound they had left with which to express their monumental delight at being reunited.

From the black cat and the white, a new rainbow-hued race began. They allowed the humans to look after them, and Xerkhsus tried to share with them the advanced knowledge of the ancients still firmly fixed in his skull. He scratched out letters in the sand for them and purred when they seemed to catch on.

The two raised their young kittens, their god's children, and knew that even though the old wars would continue, at least there was a future for cat-kind. They could no longer express themselves with their old voices, but they were ever proud and wise beyond words.