“Or?” Kestrel said, because she was a ferret, and ferrets always look for the other door.

“Where’s my cat?” Harold asked. His voice was the sound of a hard drive spinning up after a long sleep.

Kestrel didn’t know if it was a prophecy or a memory. She decided it didn’t matter.

“I found it ,” Kestrel said, shivering. “It found me first. Crawled out of a disposal vent in Level 7. It was trying to type on a dead terminal. What the hell is it, Mister?”