An Orange Cat Oracle of Absurdity Story

The Oracle was sitting atop a weathered driftwood stump overlooking the beach when a visitor approached carrying a notebook.

This immediately interested the Oracle.

People with notebooks were usually looking for answers.

Sometimes they even wrote them down.

“Oracle,” said the visitor, opening her notebook, “I have a question.”

The Oracle nodded.

“An excellent way to begin.”

She pointed toward a group of orange cats scattered along the shoreline.

There was Marmalade, asleep beside a dune.

Rusty, inspecting a fishing boat for possible fish-related developments.

Pumpkin, supervising a cooler box that did not belong to him.

Mango, studying a feather with impressive concentration.

And Copper, sitting quietly beside a bucket.

The visitor frowned.

“They seem to spend their entire lives sleeping, wandering around, and staring at things.”

The Oracle looked horrified.

“My dear human, those are merely their public activities.”

The visitor blinked.

“Public activities?”

“Certainly.”

The Oracle lowered his voice.

“The truly important work happens behind the scenes.”

The visitor immediately opened to a fresh page in her notebook.

The Oracle approved.

This was exactly the sort of response a notebook deserved.

“What kind of work?” she asked.

The Oracle glanced around carefully.

Then he leaned closer.

“The secret lives of beach orange cats.”

The sea gave a curious swish.

Even the gulls appeared interested.

The Oracle pointed toward Marmalade.

“Most humans believe Marmalade spends twenty hours a day sleeping.”

“Doesn’t he?”

“Of course not.”

The Oracle shook his head.

“Marmalade is Head of Sand Temperature Assessment.”

The visitor looked at the sleeping cat.

“He assesses sand temperatures while unconscious?”

The Oracle nodded.

“The most advanced assessments are conducted that way.”

The visitor wrote this down.

She wasn’t sure why.

But it seemed important.

The Oracle continued.

“If beach sand suddenly became too warm, Marmalade would know.”

“How?”

The Oracle looked surprised.

“He is lying on it.”

This seemed difficult to argue with.

A short distance away, Rusty was investigating a pile of fishing nets.

The Oracle pointed.

“Rusty works for Fish Quality Assurance.”

The visitor looked impressed.

“Really?”

“No.”

“No?”

“He works for Fish Quantity Assurance.”

The visitor frowned.

“What’s the difference?”

“Fish Quality Assurance asks whether fish are good.”

The Oracle nodded toward Rusty.

“Fish Quantity Assurance asks whether there are enough fish.”

Rusty peered hopefully into a bucket.

The bucket contained no fish.

Rusty appeared disappointed.

“Research?” asked the visitor.

“Research,” confirmed the Oracle.

The visitor wrote furiously.

By now this was becoming one of the strangest notebooks she had ever owned.

The Oracle pointed toward Pumpkin.

Pumpkin was attempting to prevent a wave from approaching his section of beach.

The wave ignored him completely.

“What does Pumpkin do?” she asked.

The Oracle sighed.

“Pumpkin works in Coastal Property Management.”

The visitor watched Pumpkin place a paw on a driftwood branch.

“What does that involve?”

“He claims ownership of things.”

“That’s all?”

The Oracle nodded.

“Most departments require paperwork.”

“Yes.”

“Pumpkin requires confidence.”

The visitor looked at Pumpkin.

Pumpkin certainly had confidence.

In fact, he appeared to possess enough confidence for several cats.

The Oracle stood and began walking along the beach.

The visitor followed.

They eventually found Mango sitting beneath a wooden boardwalk.

He appeared to be watching a leaf.

The leaf was blowing back and forth in the breeze.

Mango seemed fascinated.

The Oracle smiled.

“Ah. Mango.”

The visitor looked doubtful.

“Please don’t tell me he’s a researcher too.”

“He is.”

“What does he research?”

The Oracle considered this.

“Whatever happens to be nearby.”

The visitor stared.

“That’s not a field of study.”

“It is for Mango.”

The Oracle sat beside him.

“Last month he spent four days investigating a shoelace.”

“What did he discover?”

“We never found out.”

“Why not?”

The Oracle pointed.

Mango was now watching a cloud.

The shoelace investigation had apparently been abandoned.

The visitor nodded slowly.

“That does seem very Mango.”

The Oracle looked pleased.

“You are beginning to understand.”

At the far end of the beach sat Copper.

As usual, he looked wise.

This happened accidentally.

Copper had once stared thoughtfully at a crab for thirty-seven minutes.

Since then, several seagulls considered him a philosopher.

The Oracle approached respectfully.

“Copper serves as Senior Advisor.”

The visitor raised an eyebrow.

“To whom?”

The Oracle looked around.

“Mostly to whoever happens to be nearby.”

Copper blinked.

A gull landed beside him.

The two sat quietly for several moments.

Eventually the gull flew away.

“What advice did Copper give?” asked the visitor.

The Oracle shrugged.

“No one knows.”

The visitor laughed.

“Not even Copper?”

“Especially not Copper.”

They sat down together overlooking the sea.

The notebook was already several pages fuller.

The visitor looked at the five orange cats scattered across the beach.

On the surface, they seemed ordinary.

They slept.

They wandered.

They investigated random objects.

They occasionally chased things.

They frequently forgot what they were doing.

Yet the Oracle seemed absolutely convinced they were part of some vast coastal operation.

“Do all beach orange cats have secret jobs?” she asked.

“Oh yes.”

“What about the ones on other beaches?”

The Oracle nodded.

“Different responsibilities.”

“Like what?”

The Oracle counted on his paws.

“Assistant Sunset Supervisors.”

The visitor wrote.

“Dune Alignment Inspectors.”

She wrote faster.

“Department of Unexpected Fish.”

Another note.

“Shell Placement Review Committee.”

The visitor laughed.

“That’s not a real committee.”

The Oracle looked shocked.

“My dear human, shell placement is very important.”

A nearby shell shifted slightly as a wave touched it.

The Oracle nodded.

“See?”

The shell seemed pleased with itself.

The visitor closed her notebook.

The afternoon sun was slowly lowering toward the horizon.

The beach glowed gold.

The sea sparkled.

The five orange cats continued their mysterious activities.

Marmalade remained committed to sand assessment.

Rusty continued fish investigations.

Pumpkin continued owning things.

Mango continued being distracted.

Copper continued appearing wise.

The visitor smiled.

“Do they know they’re doing all these jobs?”

The Oracle thought carefully.

“Probably not.”

The visitor laughed.

“So you’re the only one who knows?”

The Oracle adjusted his towel-cloak.

“Someone has to keep track of these things.”

A gull landed nearby.

“Do seagulls know?” asked the visitor.

The gull immediately looked away.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

The Oracle smiled.

“They know enough.”

The visitor stood.

“I think I understand now.”

“Excellent.”

“You believe ordinary beach orange cats are secretly helping the beach function.”

“Precisely.”

The visitor looked down at the five cats.

At that exact moment Mango became distracted by his own tail.

Pumpkin lost an argument with a wave.

Rusty followed the smell of fish.

Marmalade rolled over in his sleep.

And Copper was once again studying a bucket.

The visitor smiled.

“They don’t seem very organized.”

The Oracle looked toward the sea.

The sea looked back.

The waves continued arriving exactly on time.

The gulls continued patrolling the shore.

The sun continued moving across the sky.

The beach seemed to be functioning perfectly well.

The Oracle nodded thoughtfully.

“Perhaps,” he said, “they are more organized than they appear.”

And for a moment, watching the five orange cats spread across the golden sand, it was surprisingly difficult to prove otherwise.

The End