Rubik quickened his pace. His short legs would carry him only so fast, but that did not stop him from trying. His backpack swayed, as he made little hops and leaps. The spokes of the tiny red umbrella taped to his head tapped the cobblestones, making a ticking sound that matched his footsteps. “I must be looking quite cute!” he thought and smiled to himself. The red LED on his wrist band blinked. “This is no time to admire yourself!” a voice inside his head warned him.

As he stood waiting for the traffic light to turn green, there was a whiff of fruity fragrance. He looked around and spotted his gorgeous neighbour Delilah. Rubik’s eyes twinkled with joy. It looked like she too was heading towards Normandy House. “Divine Delilah, don’t do this to me!”  Rubik sang, surprising himself. I should be on a hammock by the beach, penning away verses of love and loss. Why am I pursuing a milk truck at this hour of the day?! he thought. Rubik’s eyes trailed Delilah through the pathway. She had the most graceful catwalk ever – regal, bold and poise. How he wanted to lockstep with her under a starlit sky! Oh, what was this feeling called? A pang of yearning? He did not remember feeling this way before. Rubik’s pupils dilated, just a little bit. The light on his wrist band was almost flaring now.

Lost in the new-found feeling of mush, Rubik absent-mindedly crossed the road. He suddenly found himself being pushed back and sitting on the ground. “That is some strange resistance! Oh! A lamp post! What is it doing here?” Rubik wondered, shaking off the dirt as he got up. “You were warned!” he heard the voice say. Rubik quickly checked to ensure his wrist band and umbrella were still in place. He then scrambled onto a rock by the pavement. He removed his backpack and realised the ugly black phone had been beeping incessantly. Perhaps some notifications about the milk truck or his upcoming trip? A flurry of messages ran across his screen.

Abnormal heartbeat
Delilah is here
Steer clear of Delilah
Lamppost ahead.
Minor fall. No injury detected.
Milk truck delayed by 5 minutes.
Take 100 steps faster per minute to arrive at the destination on time.
“Trivial!” Rubik scowled.

“Trivial indeed. Now speed up!” the voice in his head told him. Much as he wanted to, he could not disagree with that!

Rubik had been waiting for this day. He had to drop off the monthly supplies for Martha and the kittens and then head to the quay. Rubik had enrolled for a trip to Enohpon Island and the boat was to leave in an hour. His back hurt from the fall, but if he did not go to Normandy House, Martha and the kids would starve. He was doing exactly what he was expected of him on Ledatic Island. ”It is time Martha start picking up milk and sardines too. I can’t do this all the time!” he thought. Another beep, this time the light was of a different colour. A new item was added to his task list “Petition to include Martha in milk truck membership”.  Rubik rolled his eyes. A giant wave of nostalgia hit Rubik.

***

A few weeks ago, Rubik had been a happy cat, sleeping by the fireplace of Mrs D’Souza and living in the lap of luxury. One morning, a grey truck had stopped at the porch. The men in the truck had argued with Mrs D’Souza and taken Rubik away in a basket. The truck travelled for hours before finally halting at a bleak white building. The place smelt of spirit, and more dogs and cats. An attendant, dressed in lemon yellow robes, had placed an attractive bowl of milk and some cookies. Rubik had devoured everything like a glutton and fallen asleep. On waking up, he had found himself amidst hundreds of cats, wrestling and piling over each other. There was a strange sensation in his right forepaw. An ugly black band had been strapped to it. His left ear felt a little heavy too. Rubik tried to pull off whatever it was when a man had come running to him. “There, there! Stop doing that!” the man warned. Rubik was shaken. Wasn’t that human language? How could he understand what the man was saying? Had the milk and cookies given him superpower?

Before he could think any further, the man showed him a phone. It looked a lot like the one Mrs D’Souza used. “Never lose this phone or the band on your wrist. There is a chip glued to your ears, just make sure it never gets wet. When it rains, wear this umbrella” the man had told Rubik. He then put the phone in a tiny bag and clipped the bag onto Rubik’s back. “The chip there on your ear, that is how you can understand what I say. It can read your mind and will tell you what to do. The chip learns from you and makes you more intelligent” the man told Rubik. He had then grabbed Rubik by the neck and put him in a basket. They drove around the town and reached a row of tiny homes, shaped like shoe boxes. “Now listen carefully, Rubik. You are now a citizen of Ledatic Island. You have been classified as a Grade 2 feline citizen of the Republic. Do you see the red box? Martha lives there. You are her partner! Your kittens will be delivered to you shortly. Don’t try to find your way back to where you came from. Don’t fiddle with the chip. And don’t you dare try to rebel” the man had told him? Wow! That is some threat! Rubik thought. “Yes indeed! “the man confirmed, completely rattling Rubik.

It took Rubik a while to realise he had been uprooted from his past life and there was no going back. Mrs D’Souza had vanished from his life. In the orderly lanes of Ledatic, there were no rats to chase, no flower pots to break and no humans to scratch his ears. From waking him up to reminding him to eat, the chip told him what to do. Rubik had to attend library duty whenever he heard instructions from ‘the voice in his head’. The milk and sardines were remunerations. The chip connected Rubik to few other cats tagged as friends. They were allowed to exercise on tin roofs and play with yarn for a few hours until the voice told them to retreat. The head of the Feline Council would carry grievances tapped from their minds to higher authority once a month. What pained Rubik most was that the last of his freedoms were lost. He could no longer think or imagine anything without the chip interrupting his thoughts.

***

Rubik scurried towards the bus station, arriving just on time for the milk truck. He placed his eyes against the cylindrical lens of the biometric tool. “Low-fat milk approved,” said the message on his phone.  The truck dispensed a tray of milk bottles, colour coded brown. Rubik headed towards the next trapdoor on the truck and positioned his eyes. In a few seconds, a tin of sardines appeared. He then stood in line for the trolley and a robot placed his rations in it. It began to drizzle. He adjusted the tape that secured the umbrella to his head and proceeded home. If the chip got wet, the government deducted half the quota of sardines as a penalty. Rubik could not afford that loss. The kittens would suffer.

Rubik left the trolley with Martha and took off on all four feet to the harbour. He had planned to take the boat for his vacation. Enohpon Island, Rubik heard, was made differently. The visitors to the library often spoke about how there were no chips attached to anyone. Bees buzzed and sparrows chirped in abundance. It was the good old life of jumping over roofs and stealing milk when nobody saw. Oh, how he longed for it! He could think what he wanted to and go where his paws took him. In order to visit the place for a day, one had to gather a hundred thousand points in good behaviour and straight thinking. Senior members of the feline colony were entitled to lengthy vacations too. No sooner were the plans made, Rubik received a message on his phone. “Day trip approved. The chip will be set to explosion mode”.

Rubik boarded the boat to Enohpon. He longed to be a carefree cat once more, even if it was for a day. Could it actually be possible not to return again? Like every other thought, he knew the chip was reading his mind on this one too. The explosion mode was a security feature to handle such thoughts. The boat continued to speed against the tide, towards Enohpon. Rubik had to find a way to get rid of the chip now. For a moment, he considered jumping into the sea.  “Warning!” he heard a voice. Just as the boat dropped anchor at the shore, Rubik wrenched his left ear and tugged it really hard, using all the force of his claws. The chip came out along with a portion of his ear. His phone began to ring and the band on his paw flared incessantly. Rubik jumped into the water without a thought. With a bleeding left ear and a pounding heart, he swam for hours until he reached the shore.

Rubik noticed a cottage and ran towards it. What remained of his left ear was bloody and burning from the salty waters of the sea. He climbed a few metallic steps and entered into a room with neon lights at the entrance. Moving noiselessly, Rubik explored the house for predators. It was a large, circular room with strange equipment along the walls. Everywhere around, there was a soothing deep blue light. Rubik thought he heard a faint creaking sound. He turned around to see the door closing on its own. His heart skipped a beat when the house began to glide, first slowly and then very fast. He ran around to look for an escape but all he found was a gigantic window. He looked out and realised the house was now steadily floating in the air. Out of nowhere, a woman appeared at the window, wearing a strange green suit. The window opened on its own, letting her in. Terrified, Rubik meowed loudly at her. She picked Rubik up and gently examined his ear. She turned and looked at the fast-fading land below. Sharp laser-like beams shot out of her eyes. There were loud explosions as flames engulfed every spot she set her eyes on from high above. Rubik looked up at her in shock and awe. Mrs. D’Souza could never do something like this. Soot and ash from the fire below were blowing all the way up. The woman ensured the window was sealed and then drew the blinds. With Rubik in her arms, she walked to the porthole located a few feet away.

The house twirled, made a giant sweep, and picked up speed. The firestorm killed the lights and knocked the ship deep into space. Somehow, the instruments were still alive, but there was no crew to read them. Far below a red crescent shone the edge of the burning planet silhouetted by the curve of a wing. It would be a lonely trip. She gazed through the porthole at the wavering stars.