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‘Fuck me, I’m so bored.’

Jet held one eye open, staring at the laptop screen on the coffee table in front of her, cross-legged on the floor.

‘Is it possible to die of boredom?’

‘Don’t try it,’ Billy said, stretched out beside her, straight-legged, his hand splayed on the rug, pressed against her right knee.

The video kept playing, full-screen, a Zoom recording split into two halves.

One side was labeled Village Trustees , a meeting room inside Town Hall, harsh overhead lighting and a long U-shaped table.

The five village trustees sat at the far end: Jet’s mom, Gerry Clay, and the others.

Lou Jankowski was in his uniform, sitting on the right, and a handful of other municipal employees along the left, notebooks and pens at the ready.

On the other side of the split screen was a Ms Duffy , sitting too close to the camera, ruddy cheeks and sagging skin in the unforgiving light of her computer screen.

‘Thank you for joining us for citizens’ comments again , Ms Duffy,’ Gerry said cheerfully. ‘Are you here to talk about something other than your neighbor’s solar lights?’

‘Yes, actually,’ Ms Duffy said, voice old and crusty, annoyed before she’d even started. ‘I want to talk about those new parking meters over on Pleasant Street. It is absolutely ridiculous. My daughter lives there and I’ve already gotten six tickets. I’m not paying them.’

‘I hear you, dude.’ Jet scrolled the cursor, fast-forwarding the angry woman. No other faces appeared on the split screen, just Ms Duffy; then back to the Town Hall meeting, stretching to take over the full screen again.

‘Is there anyone else in the Zoom waiting room, Milly?’ Gerry asked someone off camera.

‘No, that’s all,’ replied the disembodied voice.

‘Great, let’s move on,’ he said. ‘Any additions or deletions to the posted agenda? No? OK, so let’s discuss this financial report, starting with the police revenue.’

Papers and people shuffled.

‘Next,’ Jet said.

Billy leaned forward, finger on the trackpad, exiting out of the video, back to TownOfWoodstock.org to the page called Village Trustee Meeting Uploads.

‘OK, so this next video takes us back to January this year,’ Billy said, double-clicking it. They’d started in March to be sure, and this was their fifth video already.

Billy pressed play.

Jet held her eye open again.

The same people, in the exact same positions, wearing different clothes, apart from Lou Jankowski in his uniform. Jet eyed her mom, in the middle, hair swinging around her bare neck.

‘We’re good?’ Gerry Clay asked, looking off camera, then back to the room.

‘OK, everyone, I’m Chair Gerry Clay, and I call to order this meeting of the Board of Trustees for the Village of Woodstock.

It is 6:30 p.m., January fourteenth, and I want to wish you all a happy new year for our first meeting of 2025.

Present is myself, Dianne Mason, David Dale, Florence Chu, Richie Collins.

’ He reeled off the rest of the names. ‘And introducing our new chief of police, who was elected by the trustees in a secret ballot at the end of last year: Police Chief Lou Jankowski.’

Lou dipped his head as there was a polite spattering of applause, a tight smile on Jet’s mom’s face, the first to stop clapping.

‘OK, Milly,’ Gerry said. ‘Do we have anyone in the Zoom waiting room for citizens’ comments?’

‘No one today.’

‘Perfect.’ Gerry grinned. ‘Let’s get to the agenda.’

Jet leaned forward this time, pausing the video, freezing them all.

‘Next?’ Billy asked.

But it was something else.

‘I just realized something,’ Jet said, mind aching as it reeled back, her eyes fixed on Mom’s pixelated face, staring across at the new chief.

‘The vote for the police chief, it’s a secret ballot, right?

At the Halloween Fair, I heard Gerry telling your dad that he voted for him, not Lou.

And obviously David Dale would have voted for your dad; he and Jack and Luke play golf together, like, every weekend. ’

‘Right?’ Billy said, bending it into a question.

‘Well, for Lou to have won, that means my mom must have voted for Lou, not your dad. There are five trustees.’

‘Oh.’ Billy turned back to the screen.

‘Why would my mom vote for Lou Jankowski?’ she said. ‘She probably didn’t even know Lou before, and she’s known your dad for over thirty years, been neighbors all that time. I just assumed it was Mom and David for your dad and the others voted against him. Why would Mom vote for Lou instead?’

Billy shrugged. ‘Maybe she thought he’d do a better job.’

‘Seems like a bit of a dick move,’ Jet said. ‘They’re friends. Anyway, not relevant – we’re looking for a cat.’

Jet exited the video, on to the next.

‘Doesn’t look like they had a meeting in December, so we’re into November 2024 and –’

Gerry Clay spoke over her, from the speakers.

‘– This is Chair Gerry Clay, calling to order this Village of Woodstock Board of Trustees meeting. It is 6:30, November twelfth, and present we have …’ Jet skipped ahead, dragging the cursor to the end of the names.

Lou Jankowski was gone, replaced with the old police chief. Much older, in fact, hair snow white and so thin it almost looked like it was floating above his uncovered head.

Jet circled his face with the on-screen arrow, poking him in the eyes. ‘Can’t wait to retire,’ she said, putting on an old-man voice. ‘These meetings are so fucking boring.’

‘Yeah,’ Billy joined in. ‘Can’t wait to do all that old-people shit. Puzzles. Gardening.’

‘Bang so many bitches,’ Jet added. ‘That I used to be a police chief line works every damn time.’

‘Gonna eat so much ham.’

‘Ham?’ Jet’s old man asked Billy’s old man.

‘Yeah. I really like ham.’ Billy’s accent had slipped, somewhere between surfer and stoner.

Gerry stopped the fun, as usual.

‘OK, let’s get this meeting started,’ he said.

‘Milly, do we have any citizen comments today?’ Jet asked before Gerry could, parroting her a few seconds later.

Milly’s disembodied voice floated through the speakers. ‘Yes, there’s someone in the waiting room. I don’t actually have a name; their screen name says Anon. Shall I let them through?’

Jet leaned forward, holding her breath. Billy too, right beside her.

‘Yes, let them through.’ Gerry waved his pixelated hand.

The screen fractured into two, and not because of Jet’s eyes this time. Town Hall halved, shrinking all the people inside it.

On the right-hand side was a darkened room, no lights, just a pale glow from a window in the background. In front of it, lit from the silver of the computer screen, was a cat.

Not a real cat, not even a full cat. Some kind of filter: a digital ginger-and-white cat face plastered over the human one below, moving with it, blinking bright green, uncanny eyes.

The cat wore a dark hoodie zipped up to cover their neck.

Pointed cat ears out the top of their head, just a sliver of visible dark hair, but their human ears showed beyond the orange fur.

It tilted its head, cat face moving with it, staring right at Jet, almost an entire year later.

She felt the hairs stand up on her arm. Just one arm.

Then flinched as a sound erupted from the speakers: Town Hall bursting into laughter.

Gerry Clay hooted.

Jet’s mom covered her mouth with her hand, giggled into it.

‘Oh dear!’ Gerry called over all the commotion, barely able to speak. ‘Ms Duffy, is that you?’

‘Oh my god.’ Florence Chu laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes.

‘I’m afraid it looks like you have some kind of filter on,’ Gerry continued. ‘Has one of your grandchildren been playing on your computer, Ms Duffy?’ His voice broke, more laughter, high and tuneful, before he wiped it away. ‘Is there anyone there who can help you turn it off?’

The cat blinked slowly.

Opened its mouth, a flash of human teeth.

An awful, inhuman sound rattled against the laptop speakers.

Gerry Clay covered his ears; so did the old chief of police, and Billy.

‘I don’t want to turn it off,’ the cat said, its voice terrible and deep, from another world, reverberating on each word. Some kind of voice-changing software. ‘I don’t want you to know who I am.’

The hair rose up the back of Jet’s neck now. Billy pressed closer.

Gerry lowered his hands, the smile still on his face, flickering at the edges, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or …

‘Who are you?’ he said, deciding to go with the smile, but the laughter was gone, almost all trace of it.

Dianne’s hand was still in front of her mouth.

‘I’m a citizen of Woodstock,’ the cat answered in its dark and dreadful voice. ‘And I have a comment. For Dianne Mason.’

Jet’s mom lowered her hand, uncovering her mouth.

‘About Mason Construction,’ the cat added.

Dianne found her voice, an audible clack from her tongue. ‘Well, I don’t actually work there. That’s my husband’s company. Do you have a comment about –’

‘– I want to know, how do you sleep at night?’ the cat asked, tilting its head the other way.

‘Excuse me?’ Dianne’s voice rose.

‘How do you sleep at night?’ the cat repeated, voice growling, filling Town Hall, and Billy’s apartment one year later. ‘Stealing people’s homes so you can build mansions and vacation homes for people who don’t even live here.’

Dianne shook her head, sharing a glance with Gerry.

‘Mason Construction does not steal homes,’ Dianne replied. ‘And if you don’t mind, we –’

‘– offering too much money to people who are too weak to say no. What’s the difference between that and stealing? You’re still predators.’

‘Milly,’ Gerry called, ‘I think we should –’

‘– Pull out of the sale,’ the cat barked over him. ‘You know which one. It’s not too late.’

Dianne shook her head, almost rolled her eyes too; Jet knew that look. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she sniffed.

‘Houses aren’t just four walls and a roof.’ The cat flashed its teeth. ‘They are important to people. And they are not yours to take.’