The Archivist's Cat¶
Scanned the third reel of microfilm at 14:37. Motor whirred like a trapped wasp. Cat watched from the windowsill, tail flicking. Same as every afternoon.
Entry 12.04.24
Reel 7 corrupted—snowstorm static where names should be. Tried three times. Cat yawned, unimpressed. Memory chip from ’09 archive slot rejected. Error message: authenticity unverified. Smelled burnt coffee. Ate a mint from the jar. Cat batted at the ribbon cable.
Found a gap in the ledger. Entries 1985–1987 missing. Not torn out—never there. Cat’s fur puffed when I hummed the national anthem. Stopped. It hissed.
Reel 12 played backward. Dates descending: 2023, 2018, 1999. Faces blurred, mouths open mid-sentence. Cat pressed against my leg, purring too loud. Power flickered. Saved the file as ORPHAN.
Dropped a cassette. Cat darted out, tail high. Found it behind the shelf—label smudged. Played it. Static, then a child’s voice: “They’re lying about the river.” Cut to laughter. Cat’s ears twitched. Deleted the file.
Letter from the Committee arrived. Cease unauthorized recovery efforts. Burned it. Cat licked the ashes.
Reel 19 showed my own hands scrolling through reels. Cat stared at the screen, unblinking. The film rewound itself.
Cat didn’t come tonight. First absence in seven years. Reel 22 played clean: footage of the old parliament building, then a white screen. Typed play again. White again. Typed reveal. White. Cat’s collar bell jingled outside the door. Let it in. It carried a disc in its mouth. Dried mud on the label.
Error message now reads: loyalty unverified. Cat sleeps on the keyboard. Breathing slows the cursor.
Final entry. The reels are empty. So are the shelves. So is the cat’s bed. My reflection in the monitor grays at the edges. I type restore. The screen replies: source unknown.
Cat’s bell rings in the hall. I don’t answer.