The So Space-filling Curves of Nummist Paradise

Revealed to Joseph Howse

More to come...

1: Grand Centrifugal Station

A year after the first revelations ended, I dozed off in front of my desktop one day and awoke to find myself in the Great Locomotive. Around me, this Leviathan of the Underground was shaking its bonds as it hurtled toward ends unknown to me. I seized the handrail overhead and peered up and down the racks and corridors in hopes of finding my luggage and someone who could apprise me of the situation. I found neither.

The stop was lurching. Unprepared (having never seen the Locomotive in such turmoil) I nearly lost my footing—yet, remembering the edifying words of High Priestess Plasma Tigerlily Zoya, I did not lose my well-invested wits. Anxious to discover what could be the matter in Paradise, I lunged for the doors as they hissed open.

A billowing steam licked my spectacles and made me stumble blindly out onto the platform. A throng of tails whipped about my legs: cats were clambering toward the Locomotive's doors. Someone hissed. Someone bolted. Someone had nowhere to run except up my leg. Before I knew it, I was falling—hyperventilating and falling in that dense and strangely luminous cloud of steam.

"Primate down!"

"Primate down!" The wail reverberated up and down the caverns. A blast of air cushioned my fall and I lay stunned but unharmed as the crowd emptied itself into the waiting Locomotive, which presently was off again. I picked myself up from the vents as several late sets of paw-patters echoed in the side-tunnels.

"We'd better not be late to meet him!" said an unmistakable voice, toucing me with its concern. "You know he can't find his way around. He'll be walking circles around pillars...

"Oh, hey." Leo Lazy Lion, along with Dr. L. S. River and Dame Puss-Puss Paws, had found me.

"Oh, my friends," sighed I, kneeling to stroke each on the neck in turn, "I'm so glad to see you here!"

"Who'd you expect?" asked Dr. L. S. River. Dame Paws cuffed Him on the ear. "What?" He asked.

"Joe, dear," Dame Paws told me, "you really must see how much Leo has done in the short time since he arrived."

"Oh, always Leo!" quoth the Numm, sidestepping to avoid another cuff. "I'm the one who anointed him Executive Minister of Urban and Peri-urban Planning." With marvelous magnanimity, he raised his beige-bristled chin toward me. "'Delegation is the better part of valour,' I always say. Have you got that?"

"I have," replied I, striking my brow.

"Dear," said Puss-Puss, "NummNumm and I have to be off to an Admissions ceremony. Remind Leo to help you find us afterward in the Tower of the Tail!" She and the Numm scampered away.

Leo Lazy Lion had sat down on the vents and curled his paws under his robust chest. His eyes were shut.

"Boss?" asked I.

"The flow meets specifications," he grunted. Presently, he was back on his feet and gazing around. "So how do you like the station?" I intimated that I had been surpised to find that the Great Locomotive no longer made stops by punching its elevator up through the frozen crust of Paradise.

"Oh, it does, but not in the Urban and Peri-urban region. Too much disruption to industry and agriculture, you know. Plus it's not winter anymore and the mud can gum up the works. Do you know what the biggest damper on any Paradise can be?"

"No," I replied in absolute honesty.

"Constipation."

I waited for him to enlighten me further. His eyelids crept lower. "Boss?" I asked him again.

"Still within specifications. Where were we? Constipation. Nummist Paradise is populating itself faster than you can say 'sticky cinnamon bun'. True, the space is uncountably infinite, but that's no excuse for haphazard planning. We've got to be sustainable and sustainability is what I'm about."

"Yes," I agreed, "I can see that now. Tell me, how are you relieving the Great Locomotive's ... constipation?"

"What you see here is just the beginning," my venerable friend replied. "Actually, there won't be any end."

"Yet you have been doing extensive planning."

"That's right. Next I plan to add food kiosks and then another locomotive that will just go in circles. I call it the Good Little Locomotive. Primates will like it and it'll keep them from clogging the main system on days when they just want to ride."

"Brilliant!"

"I'll call it Grand Centrifugal Station."

"Apt indeed."

"Let's mosey along." I followed the honorable planner as he waddled off into the misty side tunnels.

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2: Room to Sneeze on One's Own

A humid, florid scent (more reminiscent of an earthly greenhouse than an earthly subway) embraced us as we proceeded down the tunnels. When I remarked on the fragrance, my affable guide replied, "Do you like it? NummNumm was afraid some cats might find it too litter-boxy. Me, I like the whiff of flowers and I don't need to worry what other cats might say. That's me."

"Yes," I agreed. By now, we were passing the sources of the full-bodied, flowery aroma. Thriving on the silvery steam of the vent system were orchids, anthuriums and other jungle-dwelling blooms for which I knew no name—and before I could ask Leo for names and botanical notes, I felt an irrepressible sneeze welling in the hollows of my head.

"Mosey along! Mosey!" the Minister commanded. "We'll get you some fresh air." We did so. Presently, I managed to not so much repress the sneeze as dissipate it in sighing.

"There's not room to sneeze, you know," added Leo Lazy Lion. "Here's what I mean: some fool is bound to overhear and mistake it for hissing. See?"

I nodded groggily as I began to survey my above-ground surroundings. The stairs had surfaced in an avenue between two towers—one tall and slender, and one short and stout. A transparent archway connected the towers and cast its airy shadow across the avenue. "That one," said I, indicating the slender tower, "must be the Tower of the Tail, as Puss-Puss mentioned."

"That's right," said Leo, "and we call the other one the Tower of the Noggin—but more on them later."

As I followed Leo along the avenue, I took note of the abundant and excellent statuary that populated the environs. A multitude of marble cats (which I almost want to call sphinxes, so grand they were in dimensions and detail) covered more than every pose imaginable to man. Most were washing. Their tongues were of an exquisite roughness and realism; one fairly smelled the cat breath on them. The tufty inner spaces of their toes, which they eternally plucked clean with their angular and unspoilt incisors, looked as if they would be downy to the touch. Amidst the grandeur circulated primate servants, bearing towels to dry the dew from the statues.

"This is magnificient!" I exclaimed. "I could only wish to have my camera with me to document this for the world!"

"Maybe another time, when you have eternity," replied Leo Lazy Lion, curling his lip. As docile as he always seemed, the old gentleman was very swift with his wit.

"Here we are," declared my leader, twitching his head to the right. That way lay an immense, lush parkland that reached for the horizons. "This here is the edge of the Bois du Thon. I made this sliver of it stretch up almost to the Towers."

"The Bois du Thon?" I echoed. "The Tuna Wood?"

"Come see for yourself," he urged.

As we passed under the park's gilded archway, I first smelled and then did see why the Bois du Thon was so named. The trees—great, silvery-barked, somewhat willowy things—sprouted moist, fragrant cans of tuna instead of buds or leaves. The crop must have been in season, for the tuna cans were just starting to peel open and fall into baskets on the cobblestoned ground. A chill, low-lying fog sealed the freshness of the food until primates could come to collect and re-cover it. I exhaled in amazement.

"All my original idea, you know," said Leo Lazy Lion—"inspired by my own love of tuna. How they got along without it up till I came along, I'll never know."

"Do some felines and primates," I enquired, "somewhat balk to see so much of one foodstuff in one swoop?"

"That's the beauty of it," answered Leo Lazy Lion. "Here I can go and be away from the squeamish types. Here I can..." He paused, studied his reflection in an empty pond and then let out an astonishing sneeze. "That felt good."

A moment later, Leo added, "Let's mosey."

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3: Here and There with the Wind

As we wended our way along, the wind came out to meet us, to shake our paws and hands in its clammy clasp. Leo's regal whiskers flattened in the gust and he squeezed his entire face into an indignant sniff. Somehow, the same gesture also belied an adverturesome spirit, beating its minstrel's drum deep within his breast.

"Tell me," I beseeched him, "what impression does this weather make upon you?"

He sniffed once more and seemed to consider the question. At length, "Watery" was what he said; then, he added, "Earthy. Airy. Fine rivulets we'll have and they'll ripple with the roughness of the wind and stones. Were I one year of age again—and not in public service, mind you—I'd follow every one of them and take me to the brink of the plateau where other men's experience tumbles away like waterfalls into ethereal rainbows. Ho! Show me the candied yam in its outlandish livery! Where is the jaunty canary? I'll be no jogger to the paltry diet of the time, for if naught else I'll feast upon my dreams! All be served, then. What sound is this?"

"Boss," I said, "it is the creaking of tuna cans."

"Oh," Leo muttered, "then we'd better mosey indoors. You wouldn't like being caught in blowing tuna."

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4: Through the Revolving Door

Soon, the wind's strength redoubled, redoubled again—and then requadrupled! Not only did it howl but also it spluttered. Cold, smacking rain flew into our ears.

"Come!" I endeavoured to reason with Leo. "I'll wrap you up in my shirt."

"You'll do nothing of the kind!" the Minister retorted. "Really, in public!"

Somewhere along the edge of the Bois du Thon, we came to an imposing structure, squarely fashioned of the finest marble—beige, white and black. We leapt up the slick stairs and paused in the shelter afforded by the collondade. There were innumerable and profound messages hewn permanently into the building's facade. One of them read, "Probability of rain: 0 or 1."

"Well, open the door," said Leo, bringing me back to my duty. He waddled up to the twin marble slabs that he wanted me to budge."

I came to his side. He meowed. "Boss," I noted with an ounce of concern, "I don't see any handle."

"Of course not; it's revolving." He faced the doors so that his nose almost rubbed them. Again, he meowed and then looked to me. "What? I ordered up such nice doors just for you to open. Don't you like them?"

"They're breathtaking," said I, as I prepared to put my shoulder to the task. Numm gave me strength—and so the great portal slid along its circular path. Leo slipped ahead of me and I teetered after him, into the cool air of the building's interior.

As I slumped to the floor, my ragged breath seemed to echo everywhere. A few meows of surprise followed it back to us.

"Hush!" Leo ordered me. "Don't you know to be quiet in an art museum?"

"No," I gasped, "I didn't know that."

Gradually, the echoes faded and I regained my bearings. We were in an immense, arched hallway with countless stairways branching up and down from it. Balconies overlooked us and the occasional feline peered between the ornate posts of the guardrails. We, in turn, overlooked deep ravines that cradled other visitors and exhibits.

Near us, an alcove held white, fluffy towels, neatly stacked atop each other. Opposite, another alcove held wet and rumpled towels. I stood halfway between the two alcoves and pondered this exhibit.

"Let me help you with this one," offered Leo Lazy Lion. "This is an interactive exhibit. You take one of the clean ones and dry me off with it. Then you chuck it with the wet ones."

"Of course!" said I, striking my brow. "How clever, to comment on form and function that way!" Presently, I rubbed Leo down and, chuckling, disposed of the towel.

"Mosey along, now," Leo said. "I like this place but we're not going to spend forever on each exhibit."

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5: The Lift Experience

We walked to the nearest set of stairs. I galloped down the first dozen steps, yet Leo hesitated and released an extraordinary yawn. "You know, I'm just the slightest smidgin sleepy," he confessed. "Let's take the elevator instead. That way, we can nap on the way down."

"Very good, of course, and quite right," I concurred. I came back up beside Leo and paced briskly back and forth until it occurred to me to ask, "Where is the elevator, Boss?"

"There, behind the fig tree in the copper tub."

I turned and took notice of this towering tree. The gleaming copper tub, cylindircal and ribbed, stood fully as tall as my forehead. A feline-scale ramp " cast in the most sterling of silver " coiled round the luminous girth of the tub. The great fig tree (for, indeed, it was possessed of greatness such as I have never witnessed in any other fig) stood thrice again as high and gently shed its papery leaves on the floor around.

"You know, I'm rather proud to say," Leo informed me, "our art museum is very popular with the kittens. They just love to play hide and seek. Go and see whether any are by the fig right now.

Desirious of indulging the old fellow's every wish, I stood on tiptoe and peered over the rim of the tub. No kittens hid inside but in several places the earth was freshly churned. "No, we seem to have just missed them," I reported, as I strained not to cough on the fumes.

"Just as well," Leo grunted. "Well, are you going to press the elevator button or aren't you?"

"Yes," I replied, "I will if I'm asked nicely. Yes, I will right away." I circled round the copper tub and depressed the copper down arrow that I found inlaid in the wall.

We waited. "Sit down," Leo commanded. "I need your lap. This floor is cold." I sat cross-legged and Leo huddled down. "No one's watching, right?" he asked.

"Right," I replied.

We waited more. I scratched the Director's neck. He asked me to tell the time-honored tale of how our family worried when he ran away in the stormy winter of his kittenhood. I did this for him. Shortly before I could finish, the elevator arrived. "Numm be praised!" Leo breathed.

We stretched and stepped onto the luxurious lift. The interior was expansive enough to hold six sumptuous sofas—two on each of the side and rear walls. The rest of the walls' height was covered with buttons. I fairly swooned to see such wide and unabridged ranges of integers, swimming wherever I glanced.

"Negative 1001," Leo requested, "and get me one of the blankies out of the hatch in the ceiling. Actually, you can have one too." He hauled himself up onto one of the sofas, where he waited with an expectant stare.

"Negative 1001," I repeated. My search lasted several seconds, to Leo's apparent dissatisfaction.

"Finally!" he meowed as I pressed the button. "I should have asked for the blankie first."

"Coming!" I muttered as I fumbled with the hard-to-reach handle of the hatch in the ceiling. Presently, an avalanche of blankies erupted onto my head like so much snow (but warmer).

"And I suppose you find that funny!" Leo howled as I burrowed far enough to breathe. "You being snuggled up in there while I shiver away!"

"No, Boss, "I protested around the fluff in my mouth, "altogether to the contrary..."

"Bring me the purple blankie," Leo commanded. "The colour purple is manly, it's regal and so it becomes me."

I freed my limbs from the mass of blankies and grabbed the one that Leo had requested. I stood unsteadily (for the elevator was accelerating now) and draped the noble woolen blankie around the hulking shoulders of dear Leo.

"That's better," he yawned. "Stretch out beside me." Taking an orange blankie for myself, I gratefully accepted the invitation. "You know,"Leo intimated to me, "here entre nous, you can call me King instead of just plain Boss."

"I see," I answered cautiously as I studied the lights in the ceiling. They had just turned purple. "I wasn't sure to what extent such earthly epithets were in usage here."

"Oh, we bandy it about," said Leo. "You know. Hey King, this. Hey King, that." He fell silent and lowered his chin. "Well, what if we don't? That doesn't mean I'm not."

At this juncture, my powers of circumspection crumbled. I hugged the blanket surrounding Leo and proclaimed that I saw no reason why we should not have our King as well as our Numm, nor why we should not exult in the having of both, nor why both should not feel exalted.

"Oh, stop! Stop!" Leo meowed. "Really, the spectacle you're making! Forget I ever mentioned it. Go to sleep. Really!"

Confused, I obeyed. As the elevator reached its peak velocity, my head lulled into the corner of the sofa and I slept. My dreams (if they were indeed mine) were of muddy beaches, of homes of fish and weasels, and of spring rains washing the entirety.

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6: The Needleworks

A ding and the onset of stillness signalled our arrival. Lurching to my feet, I carelessly disturbed the balance of the sofa and caused Leo to wake. "Negative 1001 already?" he snarled.

I merely nodded and went to wedge my body against the elevator doors. Leo saundered past. I followed him down an unadorned corridor with black walls and white lights in the floor. Then, we came to an area where many kittens were pawing an enormous glass display case, wherein clockwork arms were working with needle and thread.

"What ordinance is this?" I whispered to Leo.

"Hush!" he admonished me. "The learning video is about to start." Surely enough, an illustrious display screen flashed alive in the darkness overhead. On it was the image of Numm.

"Kittens," said Numm, his purrs rolling down on us in surround sound, "do you know, nothing is more warming to my heart than to see needle pulling thread. An act so simple—whereby one primate mends another's pants," (and here we saw close footage of such mending)—"is so very Nummist.

"Observe," continued Numm (and here we saw the antics of an adorable, shy yet gamesome kitten, much like Him in his youth), "how the thread enraptures the feline soul. Observe, too," he enjoined us (and the scene became an outdoor one, wherein an awkward primate youth sloshed along in the rain) "how the pants shelter the furless primate from the cold.

"Kittens, what can we learn from this?" asked the voice of Numm as His image returned to the screen. "I will give you some time for discussion and then I shall return with the answer."

The screen went dark and the kittens launched into wild-eyed debate.

"Thread is, like, wow," said one.

Another inferred, "Primates need to mend their pants. They need to mend their pants or else they get really chilly."

"Always be yourself," chimed another.

Numm flashed onto the screen again. "Well, kittens," said He, "as I'm sure you've guessed, the lesson is that the joy of the feline is the salvation of the primate soul. I dearly hope you enjoy the rest of the Needleworks floor and then take some time to reflect on your responsibilities."

"You see," Leo whispered to me as the crowd began to weave its way to other rooms, "we're instructing the unborn kittens. A masterstroke, I'd say, having them come here first—but it doesn't make Urban and Peri-urban planning any easier; I'll say that."

"A masterstroke," I agreed.

We toured the rest of the Needleworks, of which the highlight was the walk-in closet full of ancient knitted sweaters, each hand darned to repair the wear and tear of time. (Amid the sweaters nestled kittens who had strayed. We made sure they returned to the group.) By and by, we moseyed along to other floors.

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7: The Paws Planetarium

On level negative 1444, we disembarked from the lift again. A sensation of vertigo gripped me as we did so, for it appeared that an arc of the silvery floor vanished wherever I trod. Through it, I could glimpse an astral expanse, in which the stars seemed to eddy and swirl like the silt-laden waves of tidal marshes. I felt that this flow could thresh me apart like the brittlest reed, its stalk discarded, its seeds scattered to the cool breezes and the baking stillness of days to come.

"Scoot," Leo warned me matter-of-factly, "or you'll miss the show."

"Yes," I murmured as I picked up my step, "I had quite forgotten myself."

"Don't worry," Leo offered. "No one else minds if you forget yourself."

"No," I puzzled, "I suppose not." We continued down the spiralling length of the gallery, which finally broadened into an oval chamber. Here, an orb of spectral light hovered in the air. Around it were dozens of kittens, floating weightlessly as each chased his or her own tail. Presently, I saw the Minister float past me with his paws tucked under his chest. Sitting cross-legged, I followed suit.

The show began. Within the depths of the eldritch orb emerged the toothsome visage of Dame Precious Puss-Puss Paws. Her pale green eyes flitted back and forth over the faces of the crowd. A purr rolled up from her chest as she prepared to speak. "Kittens," she requested, "may I have your attention, please?"

The kittens hissed, "Shush!" to each other until finally the last of them piped down.

"Thank you," Dame Paws enunciated graciously. "I am delighted to welcome you to the Paws Planetarium. I am Dame Precious Puss-Puss Paws and you may call me 'Lady'. I can tell that we are going to immensely enjoy one another's company. Also, we shall profit educationally."

"She talks nice," whispered one of the kittens.

"Thank you, dear," said Dame Paws. "How nice of you to say that I talk nicely." I nodded to the Minister to indicate my admiration of Dame Paws' gentle grammatical correction.

"Now, kittens," Dame Paws continued, "I should like to tell you about the universe and the planet whither you shall go. Whilst I speak, I invite you to close your eyes and wash behind your ears. We must never have dirty ears, must we, dears—especially when learning about the universe?"

Whether others obeyed Dame Paws, I cannot say, for I certainly did. With shut eyes and clean ears, I hearkened to her captivating words.

"Next, kittens," said Dame Paws, "I will ask you, each and every one, to employ your imagination. Together, I believe, we should have enough imagination to span the entire universe—with our eyes closed! Concentrate, my dears, and tell me of that which you perceive."

"I don't perceive nothing," one of the kittens whined.

"Ah!" Dame Paws cried in elation. "My dear, if you mean to say (as I suspect you do) that you do perceive nothing, then in that case you have perceived the greater part of the universe!"

One by one, the kittens squealed to say that they each perceived nothing too. "Yes," the Minister grunted in agreement, "there it is, or isn't, depending how you look."

"Such splendid imaginings of nothing!" Dame Paws praised the class. "Next, kittens, I shall ask you to imagine by listening with your clean, clean ears. What do you perceive, you kitten explorers?"

A rolling rumble crisscrossed underneath us. The kittens yodeled in alarm and I suspect that many were tempted to peek; however, if they did, it still did not enable them to identify the din.

"Peanuts!" one of the pupils gibbered in glee. "I bet it's barrels and barrels of peanuts!"

"What if I'm allergic to peanuts?" another kitten squealed.

"Peanuts!" an unbeliever scoffed. "You're so easy to fool. There's no such thing as peanuts; I've never seen any real ones."

"Maybe it's thunder," someone else proposed.

"Thunder!" the same solipsistic little fellow pooh-poohed.

Dame Paws interceded to synthesize the debate. "This second exercise," she commented, "has been perhaps more difficult than the first. Even so, I am astounded and astonished by the astuteness of certain of your imaginative remarks. The universe is filled with the bustle and furor of matter and energy. Peanuts are an example of matter and thunder is an example of energy. The planet whither you are destined has alarming concentrations of both peanuts and thunder, so beware!"

The kittens, unaccustomed to such bluntness, could be heard breathing faster. Dame Paws paused before delivering softer words. "Thirdly, my dears, before I let you scurry off, we shall imagine that which is most soothing in the universe to sore feline bones.

Through our eyelids flashed an orange glow, fading to green. All the kittens recognized this. "Sunbeams!" and "Toasty sunbeams!" they cheered.

"How," Dame Paws prompted them, "does it make you feel when you come into the warmth out of the cold?"

"Makes you purr," said one of the kittens.

Another added, "Makes you feel like you belong."

A third meowed, "Makes you incontinent!"

Someone hissed back, "Everything makes you incontinent!"

"Kittens!" Dame Paws admonished them. "We must show empathy for one another's situations. Let he or she who has not missed the box cast the first kitty litter stone!"

A chorus of abashed squeaks percolated among the kittens.

"That is better, dears," she pardoned them. "Where were we? Yes. To conclude, I adjure you: to contemplate everything, even if it seems to be nothing; to clean your ears so that you are alert even when your eyes are closed; to know danger; to seek sunbeams; to love one another. The planet whither you are destined contains felines and primates, primates and felines. All Nummist life is there."

A question and answer period followed this lesson, yet Leo urged me to hurry (not just mosey) along with him. He seemed to have urgent plans.

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8: The Catsit

Such was the Minister's haste that we took the stairs down to level negative 1484. With dazzling endurance, he swung his broad legs ever onward and filled his deep chest with the warm, dry, ventilated air. Before long, I was startled that I had to struggle to keep pace with him, something I had never experienced in Leo's previous life.

"Well," I breathed as we finally arrived, "you've certainly given me good exercise for today!" Then, overtaken by the dizzy grey tides of pure insensibility, I slipped unconscious to the floor.

When I awoke, I stared up to see Leo sitting some distance away. He had centred himself in the square room and atop an acutely sloped, truncated pyramid. This pedastal's top and sides were feathered with an outlandish plumage that sparkled as an illuminated geodesic dome spun overhead.

"On what are you sitting?" I wondered.

"A catsit, of course," Leo replied.

"A fitting word," I remarked, "but what is it?"

"A catsit!" he repeated. "I have to walk quite far enough just to get here, so I'm not going to walk any calkwalk. The crowd must content itself to see me sit on my catsit."

I sat up and rubbed my head. "Yes," I mused, "I can make sense of it better when you explain it that way."

"I daresay. I hope you can appreciate it!" Leo said.

"Fully," I assured him.

"Let's get you to work, then," Leo sighed. "I was going to expain your instrument to you but since you've wasted so much potential by lying around, you'll just have to learn as you go."

"My instrument?" I gasped.

"Over there," said the Minister, raising his chin. I followed his gesture to one corner of the room. There, on ten spindly legs, stood the instrument, which resembled an organ, except without any keys. "The thing is motion sensitive," the Minister explained. "You just wave your hands. I gather that's what you primates do best."

As I approached the instrument, I intimated to Leo that he ought not criticize others for lying around.

"Of course I ought!" the Minister replied. "Don't you see? I store potential. Others just let it dissipate."

I pursued the difference of minds no further. Rather, I asked, "What sort of melody should I play?"

"Make it dreamy," Leo yawned.

With what little talent or tutelage I had, I attempted to oblige. As I wiggled my fingers, horrendous hissing and caterwauling burst from the pipes.

Leo's eyes bulged, his ears rolled and he muttered, "I hardly find such language appropriate for kittens."

"Well, I'm sorry!" I snapped. "I can't play the recorder in English, much less the motion-sensitive organ in cat!"

"Well, not with that attitude, you certainly can't!"

Goaded, I applied myself and by the time the kittens started to arrive I was managing to coax purrs and whistful meows out of the machine.

As the last of the kittens arrived, the lights dimmed and the catsit started to spin. Suddenly, Leo rolled onto his hauches, stuck one of his hind legs into the air and began to wash between his toes with abandon.

The kittens were entranced. They were agog and agape. With what breath they could catch, they whispered to each other about the Minister's physique. Sensing that the show was headed for an even higher apogee, I honed the music to an electrifying pitch. Parts of the ceiling burst and dry pasta dangled to the ground. The kittens went mad with joy. The Minister wound up the act by cleaning his whiskers and then the situation went beyond control. We had to be off.

I could not help but admire the gumption and stamina that the old fellow had, to drag himself down here time and again, to perform on his catsit in front of the crowd.

Under sheets of deafening applause and blinding light, we retreated into the lift, where we took another, deeper rest on the ascent.

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More to come...