Neil hurried through the streets, even faster than other days. The reason was simple: he had an emergency meeting with three different corporate spies and even a CEO, all at different times. As a stockholder and market advisor, his tenacity and slightly health-detrimental obsession with money was what separated him as a successful man in a three thousand dollar suit from the run-of-the-mill crypto bro. He clenched his hand thinking of all the debts he still had to pay, the multiple mortgages, the divorce lawyers, the penal lawyers...

  "I don't have enough, it's not enough... I should just hire a law firm at this point."

  The cityscape was a blur to him. French arcs or Gothic architecture, Baroque basilicas or opulent high towers were all just as indistinct as the hundreds of people who walked at the time square. If he didn't have to keep up appearances for the other suits in Wall Street, he'd live in a hotel since he barely went back home.

  This was also why, when confronted with a mysterious box blocking his path, he felt an exaggerated fury, as if Hermes himself was throwing obstacles to prevent his ascent to the divine wealth. He extended his arms and sighed loudly, looking to the sides for the owner of the package, but the dark street was empty.

  Neil felt a headache. Where was that noise so prevalent in the city? A punctual silence, like a being from another world, had crossed a portal, invading his everyday life. But if something so small like a bad vibe or a box in the way was enough to stop him, Neil wouldn't be the man he is now.

  Prepared to kick the box out of the way, a small furry figure suddenly perked from the box's corner.

  "Is that a cat? Good lord!" Neil shook his head and, barely even looking at the animal, he jumped over the box and continued his speedy walk.

  "Ouch!" A stinging pain jolted him. The white, orange-spotted kitten had caught him in his jump playfully, clawing his expensive pants. Unable to hold himself back, he kicked the cat and shouted:

  "That's an Armani, you brainless beast! Ugh!"

  Then, a sudden shake of the earth caught him by surprise, throwing him to the floor. In front of his face, the cat's eyes shone in bright reddish-orange, like two miniature suns that stare from the pedestal of an offended terracotta idol of a forgotten deity. Neil closed his eyes, a primitive feeling coursing through his being.

  "What? I'm... Sorry?" But when he opened them back, neither the cat nor the box was there. Instead, a young boy looked at him, holding back a laugh. A car honked for the crazy man to get off the road.

  Neil jumped to his feet and dusted his Armani suit, the hole in his pants' couture being the only proof that it hadn't been a hallucination.

  The night proceeded as planned, he didn't care if the cat was the emissary of God himself, and as much as he shuddered thinking of those eyes, he refused to acknowledge fear.

  The corporate spy waited for him at the diner, Neil asked for a double espresso while mentally scoffing at the poor excuse of a man he had in front of him. He didn't mind that the man was a mercenary, a sellout, he didn't respect him for the small amount the man had sold his loyalty for. Can it even be called a man, he who works for peanuts?

  The spy told him exactly when the board of Artisan, S.A. would publicly announce their partnership with the Minister of Secretary of Labor, not knowing that said secretary was about to be mixed up in a huge scandal. Buy now, sell before the dip, buy the competitor's stocks now that they're low, sell them at exorbitant prices. The profit would be huge, huge indeed. Neil thought for a moment that the coffee was sweeter, and the bar brighter.

  Neil frowned. On a closer look, the bar was indeed brighter, something strange was happening. He turned and looked outside the window, where the night rapidly receded and gave way to midday's clarity.

  "Isn't it 10 PM, what on earth is going on out there?"

  But the time for cold assessment and curiosity was over. If the earthquake before was able to knock him off his feet, this time it was a hundred times greater, ripped off the top of the building, and the night sky that had turned blue flashed red before being riddled with holes, revealing the void beneath.

  The sun peeked menacing encompassing the entire horizon, shining its bright orange-red light over the dilapidated city. Neil barely had time to collect himself as his own person, along with the chunks of buildings, rose into the sky while the scorching winds that grew stronger by the second incinerated him. He screamed to the top of his lungs as the fire consumed him from within.

  And then, it all vanished like an illusion. But it hadn't been a mirage; Neil had died, and the pain carried over to this new life. He collapsed wordlessly onto the cold asphalt, and only when his skull hit the street, the new pain replaced the old one and he became capable of reasoning.

  Before him, a cardboard box lay in the middle of the sidewalk, large enough that you couldn't comfortably walk around it.

  Neil breathed laboriously. Had the cat caused all that? Had he really been sent to screw him over, particularly? Neil felt he was a very important man, and better than most, but this was a bit too much.

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  He decided to ignore it this time, so he turned around and began brisk walking.

  "Ouch! Oh, come on!" On the back of his jacket, ten sharp claws pierced, hurting his back. He was afraid to confront the cat, so, he figured that if he was respectful enough, careful enough, then perhaps the furry thing wouldn't destroy the world.

  He reached out to his back and gently grabbed the cat, bringing him closer to his chest. He instinctively winced as the animal left a trail of white hairs on his black Armani, and then looked down to the cat, who stared at him. Cold sweat drops ran down Neil's forehead.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, it's just a very expensive suit, that's it, I swear!"

  The narrow pupils became sharper, and his eyes, blue like water, started to stir, as if it was alive. White streams entered the azure storm, fulgorous as lightning. Neil put the cat back in the box, as if he was wrapped in explosives—he, himself, was an old bar of dynamite. Then, raising his hands in the air, ran in the opposite direction.

  No more than a few turns after, the streets returned to their usual business.

  He smiled for the first time in many years, thinking he had finally got rid of the curse. Best thing yet, he already heard what the spy had to say, so he wouldn't even have to pay him anything. Neil made a profit out of the situation, as he always did.

  "Because blue is good, right?" A pinch of doubt remained in his mind. Hesitation, something about the cat made him feel like it glared at him, with that particular hatred one reserves for the most disgusting things. Like he was a cockroach, or a drug addict begging for change at the 7/11.

  "It's ok, Neil. You're good, you've always been good. How many scoundrels thought that because they had solid proof, that they would put you behind bars, eh? Well, look at them now!"

  He nodded to himself and snapped his fingers. He still had it, and one day not too far, he'd be the richest man in America. All those people that had ignored him, that had mistreated him, wronged him even—mocking that he was nothing, they'd wallow in regret. The girl that laughed in his face when he asked her for prom's dance would go to the news and say "I went to school with Neil Graham," and he would flex his assets to those that had told him with disdain, "Who do you think you are?"

  "I'm Neil Graham, you imbeciles. President of America, no, I'm the guy that the president has to wait two days to meet. That's me, the greatest man. The greatest..."

  Something tugged at him inside. Sadness, self-pity perhaps. He reached in his pocket, and fetched his credit card. The flash of white that had impressed him when he first got it seemed dull now, dim and dirty. His name, etched in the card, seemed small. It should be larger, and golden.

  "After all these years... Platinum, still not enough." He sighed, closing his eyes. For a moment, he indulged imagining himself riding a custom-made sports car, stopping at every corner signing his memoirs. On the cover, his perfectly white smile glittered as he looked to a point in the sky, where dollar bills rained from heaven, handed to him by God himself. He deserved it, and on the cover his own name was ten times larger than the title. Neil Graham, the life of a great man. The crowds screamed ecstatic, "Neil, Neil, Neil!" And a spotlight followed him, so that everyone could see him. He raised his hand, asking for the spotlight to be put away from his eyes, but the light grew brighter.

  The imagery is over, and Neil opened his eyes to see that the screams are real, and they're not shouting his name. A wall of light, like divine retribution consumed the world, and even the tallest buildings were diminutive in the face of this monstrous behemoth, the all-consuming light. Neil turned away from the light, but he couldn't see anymore. A warm liquid coursed through his cheeks. He tried to scoop his melted eyes, but no matter how desperately he tried his eyesight didn't return. Then, a rumbling noise followed by a high-pitched explosion came, so loud, so very loud that Neil's ears exploded, spurting blood everywhere. His mushed brain knew it even if his body died too quickly for it to be felt. The light had consumed him.

  It took him a long time to return to his senses. Like a brain-dead patient, he sat on the floor in front of the box and drooled as he observed the cat in front of him. The eyes of the cat, if it could even be called that, changed sadistically with every minute. A vibrant purple, a murky brown, centuries-preserved amber or molten gold. It kept changing as the cat smirked, as if taunting him to run and face his next death.

  Neil couldn't bear it anymore, the human psyche wasn't designed to endure death and then come back, much less such terrible things. He felt that if he died one more time, then, there'd be no coming back.

  He couldn't negotiate with the being in front of him. He didn't know what it wanted, what drove it to torture him like this. He only knew it was something personal, that it didn't want the demise of the human race as a whole. It wanted him.

  He got up to his feet. He wasn't about to take this treatment from a furry thing that was barely larger than a rat.

  Moving intently towards the kitten, Neil roared:

  "Do you know who I am? I'm worth millions! You hear me? Millions! And what are you, you dirty rat-like thing? Who do you think you are!?"

  Pressing the cat against the asphalt, Neil attacked what he thought was the source of its powers. One thumb on one eye, one thumb on the other.

  "Let's see how you do without these, you bastard."

  The kitten tried to resist, but he was too small. He hissed, and growled, but nothing deterred Neil.

  Retina, macula, cornea, the so-called windows of the soul had turned into an unholy viscous mixture in Neil's hand. He felt terrible, falling back to his butt, gasping for air as if the globes were made of stone, and his opponent was a marble giant.

  The cat lay motionless but still breathing. Neil just couldn't bring himself to finish the job.

  "Have I finally lost it?" He grabbed his head and wondered aloud. "Too many sleepless nights, what if I just dreamed it all? Micro-nightmares, like in the movie..." He looked up, the moon replaced by a huge black spot, dark as the void. The stars began to swirl around it, forming giant rings of white light. A tear ran down Neil's cheek. He had never paid attention to the night sky.

  "It's beautiful. I wonder how many beautiful things I've missed out on."

  It turned out he wouldn't have enough time to become the richest man. The clock was ticking, and the countless stars became a single ring that loomed over Earth like a pendulating blade. His wife had left him, not that she ever loved him truly, and his sons had grown without a parent. He looked at his own hand, the wrinkles that care creams couldn't hide.

  The skyscrapers began to elongate with subtlety, and the horizon deformed. The Eiffel Tower was visible to Neil, as were the Statue of Liberty and even what he thought was the Taj Mahal. After his own body began to warp and his organs punctured and deflated, Neil found out that after crossing the Event Horizon he continued to stretch in eternal agony, forever trapped in the dark void where his last bit of conscious mind held the image of a smirking cat