by Lahea

Thankfully, I see the lizardman
ping on our computer system
while the rest of Cat Society #337
is scurrying away from Phoebe,
the One and Only Bengal.

As Phoebe exits the room
in the style of
the Halloween cat-walk,
I jiggle my thumb-glove
tight on my kitten-sized wrist
and press the big red button
soldered onto the cow-decorated
Gateway 1998 keyboard.

The super-positioned radar
signal collapses into a dark,
poignant point of red light
on the largest monitor
in the network,
where Philosopher Jones
normally sits and observes.

I'm pulling up the coordinates
of the lizardman's location
when Hooman #1 returns
with Philosopher Jones
in the disgraceful prison
they call a cat carrier.

After Hooman #1 releases
Philosopher Jones
from his box, he walks
up to me
as unhurried as old cats move
and squints at the monitor
while I gesture towards
the lizardman's signal.

Hooman #1 leaves
to tell something important
to Hooman #A, but
when I ask Philosopher Jones
why everyone looks sad,
he tells me
not to worry about it.

Philosopher Jones
We need to focus
on this lizardman.

Lahea
I think he's heading
to the City of Sin.

Philosopher Jones
I'll advise DeeJAY
to send out a team.

I'm not certain if elders
like Philosopher Jones,
Phoebe, and Buttercup
understand how technology
works, especially
when they look at me
like I'm a mystic prophet
instead of a clever kitten
who's learned 21st century skills
like how to use a computer.