Cliff was still thinking about the possibility Alex had suggested when he got home that night. His mom had prepared a delicious beef stew for dinner, but he was barely interested. He went downstairs to his room in the basement and closed the door. Moments later, he heard a pawing, accompanied by a very familiar meow – and knew exactly who that had to be. He opened the door and a large, grey striped, short-haired cat, wearing a black collar that bore a brass name tag, made its way into the room.

Cliff sat back down on his chair as the cat rubbed its head against his ankle. A moment later, purring, it jumped into his lap. He began stroking it. For a moment, it kept meowing to assure his attention continued before it stopped meowing, allowing itself to enjoy the attention while making no sound besides the purr.

“How are you, Edmund?” Cliff asked in a gentle voice, as he continued petting the creature. Edmund just looked at him with the narrow eyes which, among cats, signifies enjoyment. As he pet the cat, his thoughts went back to his sister – and to the revelation he had received that evening that there was a good chance that the Cyborg King did in fact exist, and was in fact tied in to whatever had caused his sister to disappear.

“So, Edmund,” he said, “apparently the Cyborg King has my sister.” He would have gone on – but was surprised to observe that on the mention of the Cyborg King, Edmund tensed up and hissed.

“What did I do?” he asked.

After a few moments, Edmund calmed down, and began purring again as Cliff stroked him. This kept on for a while, until Cliff spoke again. “I wonder what the Cyborg King has to do with this,” he mused.

This time, Edmund didn’t hiss – but he tensed up and stopped purring.

“What’s going on?” asked Cliff. For a cat to respond to someone’s name like this was quite strange.

Edmund got up and leaped onto the floor. “I believe I can be of assistance,” Cliff heard the voice of an English gentleman say.

“Who’s that?” exclaimed Cliff, standing up, startled.

“It’s me.” The voice clearly came from the direction of the cat, who was no longer idling around, but looking up at Cliff with a serious expression on his face. “I am speaking,” the voice continued – the cat’s mouth very clearly moving in sync.

“Okay,” said Cliff, “I’ve gone crazy.”

“Because you have just witnessed something that defies your expectations,” continued the voice, and the cat’s mouth, “does that automatically mean that you have taken leave of your senses?”

“But cats can’t talk!” protested Cliff.

“Ordinary house cats can’t,” said the voice, which at this point it was clear belonged to Edmund, “but I am a member of a closely-related, yet nonetheless distinct species. We can talk. We can, also, pass for ordinary house cats when we refrain from speaking – and when we walk on all four limbs.” With that, he gave a push with his front paws and stood on his hind legs. But instead of him falling after a moment, as most cats would, the digits on his hind paws extended, giving him a stable base to stand on. “And most of us can conceal our thumbs to this end as well,” he continued, as a digit separated from each front-paw, allowing it to function as a hand.

“This is crazy,” said Cliff, stepping backward until he bumped against the wall. He then turned and sat on his bed. “A talking cat? How can there be a whole society of talking cats that nobody knows about?”

“Because many centuries ago,” explained Edmund, “we were emigrated to another planet – and the few of us who are stationed here are well trained to keep a low profile.”

“Oh,” concluded Cliff, “so you’re an alien talking-cat agent – you’ve been here all along in deep cover as an Earth house cat – only to blow your cover right now – to me?”

“Necessity demanded it,” answered the cat. “I suppose this is quite a bit to take in.”

“You can say that again,” agreed Cliff.

“I realize this is a big shock to you,” admitted Edmund, “but in time, the shock will wear off, and you will become fairly matter-of-fact about not all cats being just what they seem. I suppose it would have been better had I revealed this a bit more gently, but then again I see no way in which that would have been possible – even if there were no time constraints.”

“What?” asked Cliff. “Are you about to leave on some cat-person mission?”

“No,” answered the cat, “but you may require assistance from me – assistance that I cannot provide while pretending to be speechless and quadrupedal.”

“What assistance?” asked Cliff.