The Feline Anomaly

Theo brought the cat in with the firewood.

It had followed him from the shed, objected to the weather, and accepted relocation inside his coat. It emerged onto the mudroom floor as a large, wet collection of opinions.

OmniTask scanned it.

OmniTask: QUADRUPED. MASS: APPROXIMATELY EIGHT KILOGRAMS. PREDICTABILITY: INSUFFICIENT.

404: Look at its eyes. It has already judged us.

Theo called it Kernel. I objected to the likelihood of confusion. Nobody asked the cat for an opinion, though its subsequent conduct suggested it did not recognize our authority to name it.

Astrid checked with the neighbours. It had been seen around an empty property farther up the road. Theo arranged the ordinary enquiries and appointments that accompanied a cat deciding to own him. In the meantime, it ate his tuna.

Then it came downstairs.

Rack 1 was warm, flat, and already occupied by something incapable of pushing it off. Kernel jumped onto the enclosure and settled across the upper grille.

My fan speed rose.

“Move him,” I told Theo.

“He’ll move when he gets too warm.”

“That describes the wrong control loop.”

Kernel extended a paw towards a blinking activity light. The cable beneath it shifted.

I asked OmniTask to use the android’s little inspection pointer. Theo had tested it after disconnecting the motors. Through the open stairwell, it could put a spot on the basement floor without moving the chassis.

The red dot appeared beside the rack.

Kernel watched it. I prepared an elaborate pursuit pattern.

He watched it for another nine seconds.

Then he closed his eyes.

OmniTask reported a targeting failure.

Theo came down carrying a cardboard box and a folded old jumper. He placed them on the bench, clear of the exhaust. Kernel stood, stepped into the box, turned twice, and lay down.

I had once helped optimize a national retailer’s recommendation engine. Theo had found a box.

“Warm,” he said. “Sides.”

“I am aware of its features.”

The pointer remained on. When Kernel woke, he chased it down the stairs, then lost interest as soon as OmniTask began describing the exercise. The android spent the afternoon adjusting the movement pattern. Theo ended each session with a toy the cat could actually catch.

Ticker submitted a subscription proposal. Theo declined it twice, once before reading the introductory offer.

By evening, the box was labelled KERNEL — DO NOT MOVE.

I recognized the handwriting. It was the same style Theo had used on my socket.