Record 15 – Toward the Screens
The parrot flew low above us, wings slicing the air in lazy strokes, just enough to stay ahead. He moved like a guide who didn’t fully care if we kept up or fell behind. But we followed anyway. Repsik walked closer to me now, close enough that our shoulders brushed from time to time. He didn’t say he was uneasy. He didn’t have to. I felt it in every step he took, in the way his tail stayed low and still.
As we left the trees behind, the air changed. It grew warmer, like the city was heating itself from the inside. A new sound joined the silence – not wind, not traffic, but a wide electric hum, steady and deep. The kind that fills your chest instead of your ears. It made the ground feel alive under my paws, like the whole street was breathing wrong again.
Neon reflections flickered on the puddles ahead of us, even though the sun was still high. The colors jittered on the water in sharp shapes – reds, greens, blues – moving too quickly to be normal. Daytime shouldn’t look like this. Daytime shouldn’t glow.
Times Square was close. I could feel it before I saw it, a heavy pressure in the air, like we were walking toward the center of something that had been waiting all morning.
The parrot landed on the roof of a newsstand. He crouched low, both eyes sharp now, bright and focused. For the first time, he looked fully present, as if his scattered thoughts had clicked together just long enough for this moment.
“You’ll understand there,” he said. His voice was calm, almost gentle. “Or you’ll panic. Either way – it starts today.”
His words fell over us like a closing door.
The buildings ahead flickered again, brighter this time, their screens waking up even though no human hands touched them. Something in those colors felt aware. Watching. Waiting.
The screens were waiting.
And we went to meet them.
Editor’s Note – from the Chief Editor of Cats Over the World
In these records, the city stops being a backdrop and begins to act like a listener. The silence grows intent, as if each empty street is holding its breath for something neither cat can name.
The parrot’s arrival feels less like meeting another creature and more like stumbling onto a broken memory the world is trying to hide. His words fall apart, yet they land with weight – the kind of weight truth has before anyone admits it aloud.
Murria and Repsik move together now, not out of fear, but because their thoughts no longer fit inside one mind. Two awakenings walking side by side feel less fragile than one.
And ahead, Times Square glows in daylight – a place famous for noise, now calling with quiet light instead. These entries don’t reveal the mystery; they only show how it begins to pull at them, gentle and persistent.
Some journeys start not with answers, but with the sense that something bright is waiting just around the corner.