Welcome to Bo-Rev. I'm Bodine Boling, and what I'm about to read to you will repeat. This is Totally Wild, Part One, a science fiction fable with a happy ending.

Sasha is a gray cat, six or seven years old, she’s not sure. What she does know is how much she loves to be alive. Especially now, on this night, while she relaxes in the comfortable dark. She’s on a flat, wide branch, halfway up the biggest tree, and Sasha always feels safest off the ground. Sasha sleeps in this tree and hunts underneath, like it was made for her. Just in case it was, she murmurs thank you into the bark. Her habit of saying thank you makes Sasha look for things to appreciate, and she likes living in a world she enjoys.

Suddenly in the distance, three loud bangs, and then from the opposite way, an echoing crash. This patch of woods is small enough, Sasha can make out the buildings beyond the trees in all directions, and there’s human movement near the biggest building.

Some of the gray fur beside Sasha moves, and a kitten’s head appears. This is June. “Let’s run away,” June whispers.

While June fears the humans, Sasha never has. The humans built everything, they were interesting, and they didn’t mean the cats harm, because they didn’t notice the cats at all. The only real danger from humans was what they might do accidentally, not even paying attention.

Like a year earlier when Sasha had been doing her regular loop around the outer edge of the woods, keeping an eye on the humans but not expecting anything out of the ordinary. This kept her from spotting danger until she’d nearly toppled into an open vat of water. Sasha stopped in time, but barely, and had to take a moment to process before she could move again. Part of her shock had been seeing so much water in one place. When she edged forward to take a sip, a human appeared, waving Sasha off and yelling. Unwilling to share, Sasha thought, so she waited in the shadows for the human to leave. Which let her overhear as the human explained to another of their kind what had happened. Sasha didn’t speak the language, but she caught a few things. Like the vat of water, their well, had been poisoned. And by some other humans. That night a year ago was how Sasha learned a rift had formed in the human community, something so meaningful people had moved out of their own homes to get away from the other side.

But this night, up on their shared tree branch, in the comfortable dark, all Sasha says aloud to June is, “where would we run away to?”

June looks straight up. “There,” she says.

Sasha follows the kitten’s gaze, to the half-full planet in the sky.

“But it changes shape every day,” Sasha says. “What if you’re standing on a part that disappears?”

“What if it’s better up there,” says June. “More trees, more cats.”

Sasha doubts there are cats up there. It seems lonely, cold, not a place an animal could survive. Even the humans didn’t seem to know much about the planet, although they were curious. Sasha had been on one of her nighttime loops a few months earlier, and spotted a huge group of humans clustered on the roof of the biggest building. She hadn’t seen this many humans in one place in some time, and the sight had been eerie, all of them turned away from her, visible only as backs and tilted heads, every human staring up at the planet in the sky. Which had been full that night, making it so bright, Sasha could clearly see the grounds around the building. Which let her spot the kitten, small and gray, slinking from a barn. First, Sasha thought she had to be looking at herself, a memory daydream, or a message, something, for some reason, that she needed to see. And what she saw in this rare view of her own youth, was how delicate she’d been, and worthy of care. But then the kitten moved in such a way the spell broke, and Sasha understood this was not her own memory, but another cat. How unexpected this was made Sasha freeze, but as her mind returned to her, she began to wonder, could she help? Maybe show the kitten where to sleep, find food, which humans to trust. This made Sasha glance to the humans on the roof, and they’d all turned around, facing Sasha, except they still looked up, but at a different part of the sky. By the time Sasha remembered the strange cat, she found no trace of the kitten at all. Ah, Sasha thought. It had been a memory daydream message. It didn’t bother Sasha that she’d imagined so vividly something that hadn’t been real. Actually it was nice to be reminded of how far she’d come, all on her own. Although some doubt lingered for months, ultimately Sasha couldn’t believe the kitten she’d seen was real. Because it would have been the first time she’d ever seen another cat.

But this night, up on Sasha and June’s shared tree branch, in the comfortable dark, a new sound filters over from close by, and the cats’ heads rotate in sync to pick it up.

Footsteps.

It was a human. That smell unmistakable, even though the person was far enough away to be invisible in this dark. Plus now another smell, which happens to be Sasha’s favorite—

Dirt.

The last time Sasha smelled that was when she’d been on her loop a few weeks ago, and took a detour to find water. Her favorite place to check was this woman’s backyard, because of its beautiful blooming garden. The water came from watering cans the woman forgot and left out, but really Sasha went there to play in the dirt. Pressing her nose to the soil scratched an itch deep in her soul, and this particular day she’d lay there for a while, panting, basking in the glory. Until Sasha realized someone was watching her. She felt it first, then looked up. But instead of finding the gaze of the woman who lived there, Sasha saw that the same gray kitten from before had returned. Very real, female, older now and nearly Sasha’s size, but still gawky. The cats stared at each other until Sasha looked away, not wanting to come across as aggressive, and to let the kitten get water first. Sasha kept her gaze on a big yellow bush, although now that she was really looking at it, it seemed kind of spindly, with far fewer blooms. The whole garden was diminished—impossible not to notice, now that she paid attention. By the time she remembered the other cat, Sasha saw the kitten had hung back also, no idea what to do. This softened Sasha, who moved slowly to the watering can, motioning for the kitten to follow. June was the younger cat’s name. Sasha showed June how to tuck her ears before dipping her head under the watering can handle, so she wouldn’t get startled and soak herself, as had happened to Sasha a few times. A nice encounter for both cats, for each the first time they’d met another. But once they had their fill, Sasha left, only discovering the kitten had followed her when they both turned up at the tree. In the few weeks since, Sasha and June had slept every night on this wide branch, off the ground, together. Not always perfect but Sasha didn’t miss being on her own.

But this night, from up on that shared tree branch, in the comfortable dark, Sasha smells it again, that dirt smell. Then she puts it together: the person entering the woods is the same woman who gardens, whose water they steal. Maybe she does mind.

“Let’s run away,” June whispers. “Once we get through the last door, we’ll be free.”

Sasha thinks about that last door. The one on the other side of the farthest ring of human homes. They could reach it, maybe even go through it, but who knew what was on the other side? The humans never go out there. All the exploring they do is entering this patch of woods. Although never when it’s dark, like the woman tonight. Still, Sasha thinks the woman has come to relax on one of the benches, like humans do all the time. But then the woman walks past the benches. Even as it’s happening, Sasha can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, which is the woman walking even closer, until she’s at their tree, under their branch, and only then does the woman stop, and take a bag off her back, and set it on the ground.

“I told you humans are dangerous,” whispers June.

But then the woman puts her hand on the tree trunk, and Sasha recalls, of course, she’s a gardener, she’s here to help the tree. Sasha lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. The woman withdraws a device from her bag that’s the size of her hand, and pokes it a few times. When nothing happens, the woman gives it a smack, and then the device glows bright green. Sasha’s eyes adjust in time to see a low branch pop off the tree, swinging open to reveal dark gears and blinking lights behind the bark. But then the device light goes out, darkness swallows the scene below, and Sasha’s eyes readjust. She hears before she can see the woman smacking the device again, this time harder—once, twice, three times. But the light stays off. Which is when the woman hurls the device against the tree, and it snaps in half, pieces flying.

“She’s here to destroy the hunt,” whispers June.

Sasha resists that idea, even as she watches from above as the woman leans down to the interlocking metal thing, their hunt, and rips it right off the tree, which will prevent them from accessing food. The light of Sasha’s most basic belief, that she’s safe in this world, flickers and goes out. She experiences this as a drop in body temperature, and vague pain everywhere.

June, meanwhile, continues to murmur. “The food’s not even warm anymore.”

It distracts Sasha from her sadness to notice that June is almost always complaining. How exhausting that must be, getting worked up all the time, never in a way that’s useful. But has June been right all along? Is it a bad, dangerous world? Sasha watches the woman search the ground for broken bits of the device. All Sasha can sense from this human is exhaustion, but then under that she feels something kind, soft. Nothing to fear. Then the woman folds her hand to approximate a cat’s paw, and bats at the interlocking metal thing, which is back on the tree but in a different shape. This motion causes the cats’ food to emerge from a hole in the bark, and the food is hot, Sasha can tell from the way the woman handles it, and then the smell. What a coincidence, that this woman happened to fix the cats’ problem. But then the woman stands and shoulders her bag to leave, as if being useful was all she’d come for. Which as Sasha thinks, she realizes is true.

Which is when the woman looks straight up, at the cats on their branch, aware of them all along. June squeezes her eyes shut, but Sasha, still stunned by surprise, holds the gaze. The woman smiles and keeps her face relaxed, and Sasha’s anxiety unspools until it’s gone. Now it feels obvious the cats are wanted here, of course they are. Supported but left alone out of respect. Totally cared for and totally wild. Then the woman takes her stuff and goes.

But June is still afraid, Sasha can feel the kitten quake beside her. So Sasha motions to the planet in the sky. “Some say that’s where life began. That we all jumped down from there to here.”

“Then let’s go back,” says June.

Sasha doesn’t think traveling to space is possible, even for the humans, plus if everyone had moved here from there, there had to be a reason. But all she really knows about that planet in the sky is the humans call it Earth. Sasha’s home planet, they call the moon.

“Someday we’ll live up there again,” vows June. “Then we’ll be safe.”

It moves Sasha to see how much the kitten wants to believe in a place untouched by change and disorder. That she might close her eyes to open them, her worries gone. And behind that misguided hope, Sasha sees a little dab of fear, which June does everything she can to protect.

Instead of trying to teach the kitten as she normally would, Sasha leans close, and speaks directly to June’s fear. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Hearing this transforms June, softening every part of her. Her eyes close. Sleep is near.

“What you feel is normal,” Sasha tells the kitten now. “You’ve got this. And I’m right here with you. Let me say that again. What you feel is normal. You’ve got this. And I’m right here with you.”

This has been Bo-Rev. Written, read, and edited by Bodine Boling. Music composed by Brian Rodvien. From one human to another—dream big.