“He could have saved so many lives! He could have saved the library,” Marco protested. “Instead, he just let it happen!”
“This is difficult for you, and it is hard for me to see time from your perspective. Worldly creatures, such as you-ou,” she said, her voice rising with a touch of superiority, “observe time as past, present and future. But it is not so simple. Time is such a limiting dimension-ion… but unfortunately you earth creatures are stuck with it.”
Alaniah twirled her ethereal sparkliness upwards and sailed around the room as though even the thought of being tethered by three dimensions was something to be avoided at all costs.
Cicero finally looked up from his books.
“Ah, there he is,” she said. “Now you may explain. I cannot even fathom what it must be like for you, imprisoned in heavy corporeal bodies, plodding along in a time continuum-um.”
“Oh Alaniah, we are who we are,” said Cicero. “To quote a great man, ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on.’” But at least we cats do not face the same limitations as humans. We are able to time travel and see into other dimensions much easier. Well, I have to qualify that. Cats used to have this ability, but even they are losing it, just as they are losing the ability to read.”
He looked at Marco directly. “But to your question, Marco… about why I didn’t save the library or warn Akeel.”
Cicero had been listening after all.
“All I can tell you is when we travel back in time, we are only observers. We cannot affect what has happened in the past. We cannot even be seen by most of the inhabitants.”
“What about Akeel? He saw us.”
“Akeel and Chuluum were different. They were given the gift to see what others could not.”
“But why couldn’t you give him some small hint? What’s the point of going back if you can’t change anything?”
“There is much speculation about time traveling. Humans are fascinated with this subject as well, thinking that they can change something that has already happened in the past to make life better in the present. However, as appealing as the idea is, it is not only not possible, it would be terribly dangerous.”
“Dangerous. Don’t you think the fire was dangerous?”
“As tragic as it was, changing things wouldn’t necessarily make it better.”
Marco did not see how things could have been worse.
“Careless use of time travel leads to rifts, a tear in the fabric of events. Even the slightest alteration would create an enormous wave that would sweep out over every event, before and after. When a pebble is tossed into a pond, ripples spread out into ever-widening circles. If a boulder were thrown in, a tidal wave of events would change everything around it, not just one small thing.
“No, it has not been granted to us mere mortals to have this kind of an effect on things that have already happened.”
Marco was not sure that Cicero had answered his question. For that matter, he couldn’t even remember the question. He had gotten lost at ‘a tear in the fabric’ and ‘tossing of pebbles into a pond.’
He sighed, thinking he would never understand the kinds of things Cicero talked about, but he couldn’t help asking questions. “Cicero, why are they called the ‘dead cats’?”
Chapter 23: First lessons
Marco’s question made Cicero feel as if he had awoken from a dream. He left his theories and complicated matters and went over to sit beside the young cat.
Marco showed promise as a future Guardian, but it was still too soon to be sure. He was young, naïve, impulsive and daring. Those qualities, in time, could develop into bravery and courage. He’d need that. But he’d seen how the same traits could be turned into reckless and untamed ambition.
“I’ve been negligent in instructing you—putting the cart before the horse, I believe is the saying. It’s time you learned something about the Guardian Cats.”
They both settled into sunny spots on the window sill.
“I will start with the Guardian called Adelphos. One of the places Akeel found was a deserted farmhouse on the outskirts of a small Greek fishing village. Adelphos was one of the many Guardian Cats there.
“During the day, he wandered through flower and fish markets, keeping their stalls free of mice. The fish vendors and food merchants all saved him special treats, each one thinking that Adelphos loved him best.
Cicero saw Marco was drowsy from the warm sun, but as usual, Marco’s tummy growled whenever food was mentioned, and Cicero was glad to have his full attention.
“Adelphos began tutoring kittens who gathered every day at the markets, telling them stories of past Guardian Cats and teaching them how to read. It had been Akeel’s inspiration to have the Guardian Cats pass on the stories. The tutoring part was added to teach humility to our prideful natures and Adelphos was the first cat who took up the challenge.
“A cat’s only shortcoming,” said Cicero, “is the one of being too proud.” He chuckled at the irony of his own statement. “Community service to the less fortunate was Akeel’s idea as a remedy for curing this weakness of ours. The name ‘dead cats’ was coined by Gaspar, one of Adelphos’ students. If the discussions were getting too serious and he was in the mood for an old Guardian story, he would shout out, ‘Let’s hear a tale about one of those dead cats!’”
Marco’s eyes lit up with delight.
“Some of the others still don’t get the joke,” said Cicero, pleased with his student’s ability to grasp subtle humor.
“But we have more pressing concerns. The raccoons. What will we do about them? I don’t think they will go away peacefully. What do you think Marco?” asked Cicero.
“I don’t think they’ll go away either. In fact, if we don’t take care of them soon, we might become ‘dead cats’.
Cicero couldn’t hide his smile.
Chapter 24: Sting’s Headquarters
From a distance the pickup looked abandoned, but inside were signs of life. The raccoons had taken up residence in the ’52 Dodge. The faded orange truck with an additional camper shell more than suited their needs.
Inside, Sting was fuming mad. “Those dirty, rotten fleabag cats! Thinkin' they can raid our territory and call us intruders?” He paced back and forth in the covered truck bed.
“How is it that a bunch of scrawny alley cats managed to thrash you, Sting? You’re not losing your touch, are you?” Tank asked.
Sting drew his large paw back and sent Tank flying. “Does it feel like I’m losin' my touch?”
“Sorry, boss. My mistake.”
Sting sneered. Tank looked tough, but he was spineless. A chuckle coming from the outside interrupted them. Sting swung around. A small raccoon poked his head into the doorway.
“What’s so funny?” Sting demanded.
“I was wondering how a mangy tomcat beat up a tough guy like you. And he’s only half your size,” replied the stranger.
“We was wondering about that, too,” said Crimmany, boldly first, before he cringed.
Sting ignored him and glared at the intruder. “You callin’ me fat?”
“Absolutely not. In fact, I envy your fine stature. Allow me to introduce myself. They call me Lazer,” he said. “I’ve been spying on the cats for some time now.” He chuckled. “It’s sort of a hobby of mine.”
“Oh yeah?” Sting started to warm up a little. He hadn’t always hated felines, but the ‘dead cats’ made his skin crawl. Up until now he rarely gave cats a second thought. They always scattered when he took over their territory and never caused him any further trouble. Until now.
“The leader, Cicero, he’s got some special kind of power. The others, they’re just plain mean and ornery. But they’re ‘reader cats’,” said Lazer, scrunching his nose, indicating the cats might have some contagious disease. “It makes them peculiar.”
“I noticed that.”