When the science was advanced enough for the chimeras to grow and survive and even thrive, they said we had a choice. Just remaining human would not be enough, that was an outmoded model, and did not reflect the glories of transhumanist science. Bu we could be amalgamated – that was the term they used – into other species. Man’s scientists were now gods, they said, and we would be their new creations. It was an honour, they said, and they were generous. We had choice.
My friend chose to be ‘reconstituted’ as they called it as part human and pat cat. She owned a cat as a child, a little tough stray that she’d loved fiercely. She thought the cat had been the very best thing of all, so aloof, so free.
“And it and nine lives,” she told me, “as will I if I am part cat.”
“Or at least four and a half,” I agreed, “if you are only half cat.”
“Yes, but that’s better than only one,” she opined, happy enough with her fate.
I hadn’t decided yet what I would be. I waited to se show her procedure went. I’d choose to be a dragon if I could, but they said they have no DNA for that. So perhaps a cat would be good even though it doesn’t have wings.
“You probably couldn’t fly even if you did,” they said, “as you will likely still be too heavy.”
So a cat it might be if it suited her, it might well suit me.
I saw her a week after the procedure. She was rather beautiful and very happy with the work. She said it was uncomfortable at times but she would get used to it. She preened and let me stroke her soft fur, then lazily scratched me with her new claws, just because she could.
Yes, I thought, as I saw her stalk the woods and paddle happy in the stream, a mystery and a glory: yes, a cat would do.
I’ll be half a cat too, and together we’ll have those nine lives. She and I.
(c) Helen M Valentina 2017