There are a near-infinite number of strange and marvelous worlds in this Universe, and in all of them there are Cats. I see that you are an ordinary person and not a Cat; thus, I can ascertain that you know very little about the Universe. Perhaps you do not even know that there are other worlds beyond your own. If you are fortunate, I might tell you a little about our vast and mysterious Universe, and the myriad worlds within, and the Cats that dwell there. Listen closely then, if you have the depth of spirit to understand my words.

• • • •

A small civilization in a far-flung galaxy is overjoyed to finally achieve spaceflight after millennia of slow scientific progress. Dedicating themselves to the glorious mission of exploration and the pursuit of knowledge, thousands of spaceships set sail for destinations unknown. On board every spaceship there is at least one Cat, for it is thought that Cats are the bringers of good fortune.

So earnest and determined are they that the Cats have not the heart to be uncooperative when placed on spaceships and prayed to for good fortune. The Cats, of course, are fully aware that this quest is futile. They know that these spaceships, travelling from so distant and isolated an origin, could journey for a thousand generations and still never encounter intelligent life.

Every single one of these valiant spaceships meets a painful end, alone in the cold dark expanse. They are struck by meteors, suffer calamitous malfunctions, or simply run out of resources. The Cats stay as long as they can. They offer what comfort they can to the dying crew members. Perhaps they apologize, in their own way, for not bringing the good fortune that was so fervently prayed for. And then, when the ships hang dead and silent in space, the Cats depart by their own means.

• • • •

On a moon known as Worm-World, there lives an exalted colony of Cat-Slugs. Peculiar-looking creatures, their feline heads sit on limbless, wriggling, soft slug-bodies. Of course, this is not considered out of the ordinary on Worm-World, because it is a world full of limbless, wriggling, soft creatures.

It is a dark world, with a bleak, featureless surface. But its soil teems with life. Kingdoms of worms and mollusks fight fierce battles and write their histories on stone. A particularly vicious war has been waged for centuries between the Flickworms of the eastern sands and the Soft-Shelled Snails of the subterranean swamps. They no longer remember why they fight, simply that they must avenge past wrongs, and so they persist.

Near these two mighty kingdoms sit the colony of Cat-Slugs, who lead contented lives in a warm, fertile patch of ground. Both the Flickworms and the Soft-Shelled Snails think the Cat-Slugs are very wise and very sophisticated. Ambassadors from both sides bring them gifts, ask for advice, and beg for mediation. The Cat-Slugs are flattered by this, and they do their best to oblige. Many a vicious conflict was avoided through their magnanimous interventions, for which they are much praised and heartily thanked.

But when peace reigns for too long, the Cat-Slugs grow bored, and inevitably a sly word to an ambassador from a mischievous Cat-Slug sets the violence raging anew. The Cat-Slugs, alas, like it best when everyone else is more miserable than they. Deep down, they are not convinced that the other creatures of Worm-World exist for any reason other than to amuse them.

• • • •

And then there are the Desolate Worlds, which have never birthed any thinking creatures. Some have never birthed any kind of life at all, and are made only of vast expanses of rock, or desert dunes, or gaseous clouds. Some have only evolved simple life forms driven purely by instinct.

But even in these empty places, there are Cats—Cats who travelled there from faraway galaxies to fulfil their sacred duty. For every world must have a Cat. This is a truth as old as the Universe itself.

On the gas-giant planet of Edopolar, there lives a solitary Cat known as the Great Floating One. As incorporeal as the planet itself, he floats serenely through the heavy atmosphere, bobbing through the storms that eddy through the planet. On rare occasion, diamonds form in the atmosphere and rain into the planet’s core, where they disintegrate in the heat. Only then does the Great Floating One stir from his rest, for it is his fondest pleasure to chase bright and shiny things.

• • • •

Once every thousand years, when the Universe rings with the music of the spheres and the astral planes align for one splendid moment, we hold a Magnificent Convergence. One world is chosen as the honored meeting place, and for one night, we Cats gather from across the Universe.

It is a night of wonder, of joy, and of harmony. We sing together with our hundred billion voices, lifting our song into the cosmos. We dance a wild dance that leaves tiny, helpless things trampled underpaw. We tell stories of heroism and of treachery, of the rise and fall of civilizations, of constellations and supernovas and the boundaries of time.

I pity you and your kind—you odd creatures who can think and dream and reason, and yet are not Cats. You slept deeply last night, a sweet unbreakable slumber, so unaware of the glorious events unfolding in your own world.

Now you are smiling and cooing and taking pictures of me with your device. It is clear that the profound words I spoke to you were not understood. No matter. Some things are simply beyond your ken. The Magnificent Convergence is over, and it is time for me to return to my world. Goodbye; our paths will not cross again.