Stray - Entry 3: B-12

For the first time since the fall, I stop to breathe. I am alone, but not lost. The air is warm. The flickering neon from the streets is replaced by a soft, amber glow that seeps from old lamps and humming monitors. Somewhere in the room, faint music plays — a gentle, looping tune that feels soothing. Something—or someone—is waiting for me in this place. I pad forward carefully.

It’s cozier here than anywhere else I’ve been. Not clean, not new — but lived in. Safe.

I explore, weaving between stacks of books and cables. The floor feels soft under my paws — a rug, worn but inviting. I stretch, dig my claws into it, and pull. The fibers catch nicely. It’s been too long since I could do that.

My tail flicks lazily as I move into the next room. Against the wall, a large monitor glows faintly with white text.“NEED HELP.”

The words pulse softly, waiting.

Curious, I hop onto the desk. My paws press random keys on the dusty keyboard. The screen flickers, the words changing rapidly as if responding to me: “Body required for download. Body required...”

I press more keys and I receive another response: "Enter the door. Turn on. Find a body."

A nearby door slides open with a hiss. The faint hum of machines beckons from beyond.

I step inside. The room is filled with flickering monitors, computer equipment and servers. Like some kind of data center. I see four open outlets at the base of what appears to the the main console on the opposite side of the room. As I look around the room I spot four battery packs in different parts of the room. I navigate the room and one by one, I grab the packs in my mouth and drop them into their sockets. Each one brings a new whir of sound, a deeper pulse of light. When the fourth locks into place, the main console hums to life.

Another door opens. 

In the next room I see an inactive robot slumped on a stool, sitting next to what looks like a robot body capsule that it is wired to. On a high shelf I see a box with a small drone. I use the robot and capsule to jump to the shelf and knock over the box to obtain the drone unit. 

I bring the drone unit back to the main console and place it on a pad within the console before jumping back to the floor.

A stream of light flickers from the screens to the device — a transfer, a download. The hum grows stronger until the device lifts, hovering shakily in the air in front of me.

Frightened, I hit it with my paw and knock it back to the floor. It rises again but in a friendly non-threatening away. I turn my head looking at it curiously.

It then speaks to me. 

"It worked. I'm free. Thank you. I couldn't believe the cameras. A cat in the Dead City. I can't remember my name. It seems my memory is corrupted from being trapped in the network for so long. I know I worked for a scientist who lived here. For now you can call be B-12 because that is what it says on my exterior.

It is dangerous in the Dead City. Let's get out of here."

B-12 then points out a key hanging on the wall that we need to unlock the door. It then floats up and gets it for us.But it's lights dim and it's voice falters.

It says surprisingly that it's battery is already low.

Beckoning me over to a table. On it lies a harness with a battery pack and it tells me I have to put on a backpack. 

When I step into it, the weight presses against my back — strange, confining. I stagger crouching low due to the weight and then tip over to one side. Everything feels wrong. 

B-12 laughs softly, its voice kind, saying not to worry and that I'll get used to it. The harness was designed for quadrupeds just like me. 

Now it is time for us to get out of here.

Together, we explore the flat, searching for a way out. Along one wall hangs a framed piece of paper. B-12 floats closer and says it is an engineering degree that belonged to the scientist it worked for.

We move on, and spot an electronic panel next to a door. B-12 scans the key we found and the door unlocks with a gentle click. Beyond it, a short hallway stretches ahead, dark and cold.

At the end, another door glows faintly — but it’s sealed with a keypad. Four numbers required.

"Let me help,” B-12 says, shining a bright light from its frame.

I blink at the sudden glow. We search together, and in a dark storage room just off the hall, faint writing scrawled on the wall catches the beam: "Code" followed by four digits. 

We return to the keypad, B-12 enters the numbers, the lock clicks, and the door slides open. B-12 hums with satisfaction.

Outside, the world yawns wide again. A balcony juts out within the sea of dark rooftops of decayed infrastructure. A small metal bucket hangs from a cable — a zipline stretching into the unknown.

I hop into the bucket. The pulley squeals softly as we descend. Far below, the ground glows a faint orange from what appears to be a hive of egg sacks of what must be those disgusting creatures that attacked me.

At the end of the line I jump out onto another rooftop with a mural painted on a wall in front of us — bright and blue. It shows an open sky, a sandy beach, and a warm sun. Taped to the center of the mural is a postcard of the same picture.

The picture triggers something within B-12. 

"Wait! I remember The Outside. It feels like I’ve been there before. Is this where you came from? I promised someone I would go there. Promised who? This postcard, the mural was painted from it. Let's take it. Why do I have these memories? How did they get here? Let’s keep going"

I am not familiar with the place depicted on the postcard. The only life I know is within the abandoned walls that I lived in with my family before I fell. But this place is dangerous and I will help B-12 if it leads me out of here.

B-12 stores the postcard carefully.

Just around the corner we find another zip line bucket. Beside it, a faded sign reads SAFE ZONE. Far ahead is a very tall faintly lit structure.

B-12 hovers beside me: "Look — that elevator in the distance. That’s where we need to go. I know we need to go up.”

I leap into the bucket, and we begin to descend. But before we can reach the bottom, the familiar screeching sound rises again — a group of those creatures with glowing eyes have spotted us and are running to intercept us. They swarm from below, leaping and snapping at the air as the bucket reaches the end of the line. One nearly catches the edge of the bucket. I hiss and leap out and run. The creatures chase, their squeals rising in chorus. A trash bin lies nearby — I vault off it, claws gripping the rim, and launch to a higher ledge. The creatures now scurrying uselessly below.

My heart still races as I walk along the ledge past a fence.

And then, ahead — in the distance, through the haze and glow — I see it. A shape. Standing upright that appears to be holding a broom and sweeping.

It’s… a person?