Andrew Mackay: Infinity Claws

The board members looked to Dimitri in solemnity. He stood up and address the men around the cone.

“It strikes me that Tripp, here, has made a worthwhile discovery. The 2085 Bering Treaty stipulates that major advances be kept under embargo until such time as they are established as fact. Since we cannot establish any facts – about the well-being of Space Opera Alpha, the nature of the Saturn Cry or, indeed, if this cat revelation is a hoax – it must remain embargoed.”

Tripp pressed his hands together, hoping to convince his superiors. “Am I right in thinking if the board votes unanimously ten-to-one in favor of a decision, it will pass?”

“Correct.”

Tripp turned to the ten remaining board members. “People, you have seen the evidence presented before you. It sounds as laughable as it is silly, I grant you, but the fact remains that USARIC and its scientists and crew are stuck. Opera Beta is due to launch next year, 2118.”

Tripp clicked his fingers.

An imprint of Opera Beta appeared above the table. A brilliant-white, cone-shaped space vessel with a revolving cylindrical midsection.

“I am commander for this upcoming mission to Enceladus. We need answers. Not only to what happened to Opera Alpha, but also to the meaning of Saturn Cry. The question is, can you, in good conscience, allow my crew and I up there knowing that we failed to thoroughly scrutinize the opportunities present in my findings?”

The board muttered amongst themselves. Maar stepped forward with a great deal of sincerity.

“Be careful what you wish for, Tripp.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

The board members reached a conclusion quicker than Tripp was able to ask.

“Board members, I ask your permission for a temporary lift of Infinity Clause twelve-point-eight, subsection three. Ergo, you afford USARIC the opportunity to pursue this feline line of inquiry with regard to Saturn Cry. To make it public and, if the research should produce results, find the most suitable subject to join the Opera Beta crew and assist them in deciphering the code.”

All ten board members raised their hands, much to Dimitri and Maar’s astonishment.

Tripp breathed a sigh of relief. The board voted unanimously to kick-start the search for the first cat in space. A historic moment.

“Quite amaziant, Healy,” Dimitri chuckled, “You’re good.”

“I know.”

Do you own a cat?

If so, USARIC needs your help.

We are on the hunt to find the most suitable domesticated feline for the first ever cross-species manned flight into space.

Hundreds of thousands of participants are signing up their pet to USARIC’s Star Cat project.

The selected candidate will receive a lifetime of fully comprehensive insurance. Her owners will be awarded two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars.

The entry criteria is simple and subject to official verification:

1: Your cat must be female.

2: She must be unsterilized.

3: Aged between three and five years.

4: Weigh between five and ten pounds.

Could your cat be the first feline in space? If she conforms to the entry criteria, and you wish to take part in this ground-breaking advancement in space exploration, please visit StarCatProject on all Individimedia channels and enter your pet today.

USARIC. The prowl is on.

Jamie watched the commercial on the one-thousand-foot screen that hung on the north-side of the arena. It resembled a proper sports stadium, about the size of a regular football pitch.

The logo for the Star Cat Project contained a furry paw with shiny metal claws encased on a titanium circle. The image revolved to cheering from at least fifty-thousand audience members.

Jamie and Emily sat in the participant gallery, surface level to the events that were about to play out on the pitch.

The commotion from the audience forced Jamie to raise his voice.

“Mom?”

“Yes, poppet?”

“What happens now?”

Emily pointed to a bank of metal cages being hauled to the west side of the arena.

“See that?”

“Yes. What is it?”

“The numbers go from one to fifty. Jelly is in paddock eighteen. They’re going to race.”

Jamie leaned forward onto the back of a little girl’s chair. Her blonde hair folded over the back and got trapped under his arm.

“Hey!”

“Oh, sorry,” Jamie said, lifting his arms. “I didn’t mean to.”

She brushed her shoulder and smiled at Jamie. “That’s okay.”

Jamie screwed his face and mustered up the courage to break the ice. “Is your cat taking part?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“Cindee,” the girl said. “She’s number forty-four.”

“My name is Jamie. What’s your name?”

“Fiorina. Nice to meet you, Jamie.” She took his hand and yanked it up and down. Clearly, Jamie had never shaken anyone’s hand until now. In fact, neither had she. Both had seen adults do it a lot, recently, and it made them feel like a bit older than they were.

Fiorina’s mother smiled at Jamie. He returned the sentiment and leaned back in his chair.

“My cat’s name is Jelly, and she’s going to win.”

“Oh yeah?” Fiorina asked. “Like Star Jelly ?”

“Yeah,” Jamie revealed, confidently, “She’s always running up trees and stuff.”

“Cindee does that, too,” Fiorina chuckled to herself. “We’ll see who is faster.”

Dramatic music rocketed out of the arena speakers as the lights dipped down. The commotion from the audience died down with it.

The arena’s mega-screen flickered, propelling a holographic title into the middle of the grounds.

“Welcome, people, to the Chrome Valley CV Arena. Please remain seated and ensure all Outernet devices are switched off.”

Emily looked at Jamie. “Show me your arm, poppet—”

“—but, Mom, I switched it off, already.”

“Just do it, please.”

Jamie rolled up his shirt sleeve and presented his wrist to his mother. The gray square imprint stretched across his veins like a moving Rorschach inkblot. The square closed in on itself and formed a straight line from his wrist to the crook of his elbow.

“See?”

“Good. The last thing we want is to get disqualified because you didn’t turn it off.”

“I know, Mom.”

A spotlight shone on the banks of paddocks. Seconds later, fifty white lines shot up the width of the arena from the paddock gates to the east wall.

Another light snapped on to the end-point. Each end of the fifty rows illuminated to reveal a five-inch-high bank containing five holes. That was about all the audience could see from this distance.

“Attention people ,” the female voice announced from behind the mega screen, “USARIC is committed to the safety and the wellbeing of all the contenders. We ask that you remain seated at all times during the trials. Any attempts to interact with the trials will result in immediate disqualification.”

A soundtrack began to play as the white running lines lit up. “People, welcome to the Star Cat Project, and the Star Cat Trials, London. Now, please welcome your host… Gunnar Kane.”

The audience erupted with excitement as Gunnar, a smartly dressed man with bright white teeth, sprinted in front of the track and held out his arm. He gripped his headset and pointed and winked at random people in the audience.

“Wow, thank you for that wonderful app- paws !” he said in his thick, southern-American accent.