PATTON'S SAD TAIL- VOL. X

As soon as the master freed me from my sling mobile, as soon as my hands (and dead tail) hit carpet, I stopped sleeping.  My tender new hands began manipulating the world around me, and my mind began expanding in response.  I could feel evolution carrying me into the realm of the soon to be known.  I felt no fatigue, my forward facing, stereoscopic predator pupils wide with new understanding.

The master observed me with awe; the transformation beyond anything he'd hoped.  Plato strangely kept no distance, his patronly nature overriding any innate fear.  Somehow I could tell he knew this was all for him, so he wanted to see how it took.  Sadly, neither of them could match my boundless stamina.  I found myself locked away from them for large periods of time while they recharged their feeble minds. 

Left to my experimental solitude in those early days, that's when I could focus on the extent of my evolution.  Ordinary household objects; a ball, a pen, a knife, those became my instructors.  The more I used them, the more they taught me.  A book?  No way, that's asking too much.  I picked one up, opened it...and stared at the funny little shapes on the page.  Still, I knew they were letters, strung delicately together to form words, arranged carefully to form passages, compiled deliberately to express meaning.  Written language.  I was confident it would be easy prey.

Instinct guided me, without explicit direction, through the pillars of higher intelligence.  My thumbs had unlocked my mind, the other requisite parts were already there.  Opposable thumbs complimented forward sight, acknowledgement of at least the existence of written language, and bipedalism.  Bipedalism...  Come on, you can do it.   Son of a shit!  I couldn't do it, not without a functional tail.

Here, if you don't believe me, let Michio Kaku help explain.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bu7VulZUUdE

The most underrated part of a cat is its tail.  It provides balance, communicates, and alerts one to danger.  Through some fault of my own (Okay, most.) mine had been decommissioned.  Yeah, I was a fat, clumsy sod before all this, but now...Jesus.  While the others slept (Damn, did I used to sleep that much?  Probably more.) I tested my dexterity.  Even on all fours, with my sensitive hands, chunky legs, and limp tail, I'd stumble helplessly back and forth across the living room.  Without counterbalance, my huge, hairy ass swung around like a drunk hooker.  I couldn't even climb the stairs without doing several faceplants on the way up.  This was bullshit.  I had become the world's smartest, and clumsiest, feline.

Bipedalism?  Out of the question.  Oh no, I tried.  I'd get a running start, lift my hands on the ground, and throw my body above my legs.  Stupid, dysfunctional hind quarter.  Like a toddler taking its first steps, I'd teeter, I'd totter, I'd tumble, and I'd inevitably slam into a coffee table or book case.  Every now and then, the master would come out to see what the hell was going on.  My instinctual looks of innocence had been replaced by those of disgusted frustration.  F*** off!  He started to worry about me.

Seeing the mounting futility in the quest for the upright walk...What?  I'm not stupid, and I'm not insane.  I'm not insane.  I'm not insane.  I concentrated my efforts elsewhere.  The manipulation of things; objects both inanimate and otherwise, language, the television remote, and as I would soon find out much, much more.  My thought began to expand beyond my mind.  I could feel them surround me, looking for a conduit, a telepathic ground.  I could feel the chemicals in my body organize themselves beyond parasympathetic limitations.  Unheard, unseen communication saturated my aura.  What have I become?  My efforts to process the changes finally exhausted me.

But still, I did not sleep.  Finding sanctuary atop our tall, second hand cat tower, I stood guard, and guarded.  Self awareness paralyzed every part of my soma save the tail, ironically leading this front.  Stupid tail.  My metabolism slowed, conserving energy for higher functions.  I stopped eating.  I stopped excreting.  I stopped moving.  I sat on my keep and looked out the window, but did not see anything but what came from within.  Tentacles of unlocked neural energy extended outward, searching for reciprocation.  Lucid hibernation consumed me.  That's when the Collective answered.  That's when I knew that what I'd become should never have been.

Now please, let me think, I'm imagining a book.

Showoff.

That's better.