"I'm not thinking clearly," you admit. "I seem to be having memory problems. Why is the cat important?"
The delivery woman hesitates for a moment before asking, "You don't remember what is special about cats?"
You think hard, but your brain won't cooperate. You say, "They grant wishes?"
The delivery woman moves her hand and presses something you can't see under her neck, "Johnson, the boss has lost his mind. I think we have to assume he had contact with the cat. How's the isolation going?"
She must have a speaker close to her ear inside the suit because you don't hear a response. You can think of nothing to do but wait. Finally she says, "Thanks. On our way," and turns her attention back to you.
"We've built a mobile isolation unit. The only thing we can do is hope that the microbial machine treatment you came up with last week works. You know, the treatment you developed before you thought cats granted wishes."
"I didn't think that answer was right, but there was a collar..."
"No time," she says and moves toward you. "We've got to get you out of here. Terrorists...pet food infested with nanobots...none of that rings a bell with you?" She reaches for your arm.
It's all a little much, and a bit too ridiculous to be true. You pull away and start running. No one is going to put microbial machines in you. You are the world's leading expert in nano-machinery (where did that thought come from?), and these people are dangerous.
You blast through the door and run past a shocked woman in a lab coat who couldn't get out of your way fast enough. "He touched me!" she says loudly.
You are outside now. There's a large white tent in front of you with people milling about. Some of those people have guns. You decide to run the other way, cutting through the grass to try to reach the street. There is shouting behind you. If you had to guess, they are probably chasing you, but so far no one has discharged a weapon. You get to the street. An ice cream truck has to slam on it's breaks. You find yourself staring at the angry driver as a chiptune version of Camptown Races plays loudly over the truck's speakers. You wonder if you have time to grab an Astro Pop.
"Excuse me, sir!" you yell.
_I'm commandeering your vehicle!
_Can I get one Astro Pop really fast?
(All right someone either pick up from here or start a new story if you want. Whatever floats your boat.)