Here Come The Cats

Rocky is having a conversation with Grace while he's furiously typing at the computer, going "Uh huh. Mm. Yeah." every time Rocky pauses. What a good listener Grace is today, Rocky thinks happily! No arguing, how unusual!

Then he tries to bring the topic back up later and Grace has NO IDEA what he's talking about. "Grace agreed when Rocky said this meeting was at a good time!" "What?! No I didn't, you literally never talked to me about this!" "ROCKY DID. THREE HOURS AGO. EARTH HOURS. GRACE MADE AGREEABLE HUMAN NOISES AND SAID YEAH. ROCKY OKAYED MEETING WITH GRACE PERMISSION. GRACE SETTING ROCKY UP, QUESTION?" Rocky briefly thinks maybe human memories ARE that bad — but no, Grace has never forgotten a conversation they've had in such a short timeframe before.

He is NOT happy to learn that humans are capable of certain pre-programmed responses that we can just... automatically do when our brains are elsewhere.

What do you MEAN you can fake an entire conversation without absorbing any of it? How does that even work? Why?? GRACE DIDN'T EVEN COMPREHEND WHAT ROCKY WAS SAYING. HOW can Grace give such convincing responses???? And JUST TO TRICK ROCKY INTO THINKING HE WAS LISTENING????!??!? FOR WHAT BENEFIT??????????????? WHY WOULD HUMANS EVOLVE THIS??!!??!!!!!

I was convinced he was going to instigate a rematch that I was too compromised to win, but also I was very unwell and unafraid to die, so I gave him a piece of my mind and rattled off a detailed list of everything I’d ever thought was wrong with him.

he didn’t reply—just stared me down, wordless, expressionless, cold unblinking eyes in the darkness.

a thought surfaced from the depths of my brain, washing ashore like a globster: this is exactly like wolves. this is a dominance display. a challenge. hold his gaze; do not break eye contact. keep your eyes open and relaxed to show that you are not concerned with his threat… too wide will show fear and submission, too narrow will suggest violence.

I held his gaze.

he moved forward, stalking towards me across the roof.

just like wolves, I thought.

he approached slowly, like he was moving underwater, or through a dream.

this is literally exactly like wolves, I thought.

he came closer.

wolves, my brain insisted.

closer still.

you’re handling this properly for sure.

uncomfortably close.

only when the tip of his nose was physically pressed against mine like fucking Marty McFly and his school principal did my brain finally admit that maybe, just maybe, this was NOT like wolves, and that maybe half-remembered dubious information I’d read in a kind of racist book about wolves once when I was nine years old was not applicable to my current situation.

Next up someone is going to claim that the Narnia series isn't kids books.

That but with weight.