One late afternoon 10 years ago, I was on the couch in front of the fire working on my tablet. Our black cat Bin came up next to me and I gave him a quick greeting and scritch, barely taking my eyes off the screen. I became aware of his stare and turned to see him looking intently at me with his big yellow eyes.
Would you like to see something curious? he asked. Well, he knew me and that this sort of question would instantly interest me.
Sure, I replied. What’s up? He gave me a http to type in and this appeared.
I gave out a gasp. What is this!!!!????
Bin nuzzled my hand. I thought you’d like this. Grab a refill—I have one helluva story to tell you.
꩜꩜꩜
Bin’s Narrative
I first encountered the Malachi Empheris Felidae when I was living in the Vatican in an earlier lifetime. My human was a Monsignor who was part of a special unit that researched and investigated print material that presented ideas that were contrary to accepted Church teachings. They gathered snippets sent in by dioceses from across the planet as well as scanning newspapers, books, pamphlets for oddities-a Vatican X-Files as it were. Another unit dealt with items from radio, TV, films. (This was pre-internet).
When the Empheris first emerged in the late ’50's, its contents caused quite a stir and concern within the Vatican. I had total access to the Empheris file as Monsignor’s office and living quarters were located deep within a secure area of the Vatican so nothing was locked up. I already could read several languages and could speak them as well although I never spoke. That would have freaked the Church out and I would have probably ended up in a Area 51 style research lab getting probed with God knows what.
Reading the Empheris file was quite an eye-opener. I was a young soul with only a few cycles under his belt, without much of the collective memory of the old ones. I had heard about alien/Egyptian link and those cats chosen to be Ra’s. I was familiar with human history and the Empheris was astonishingly and completely at odds with long-accepted historical facts and church dogma. It proposed in short, that my species has had a very long and consequential impact on world history and obviously, the human authorities (both church and state) were quite keen on suppressing this knowledge from the public. Why? The usual: fear of the psychological impact on people if the truth revealed that they weren’t the center of the universe and the chosen reflections of a divine being. So of course, the Empheris had to be suppressed. Part of the role of human governments and churches was to control the message of what humanity is and supposed to be.
So many aspects of the Empheris are odd. It was sporadically published for whatever reason-no pattern could be divined. The first volume was dated January 1958 and concerned a connection between the large-scale atomic testing conducted by the United States and a group of militant cats and other species whose primary goal was to wipe out all human life on the planet. The Empheris states that a group of mentally enhanced cats were influencing these dangerous decisions which understandably would alarm the Soviets to the point of making a first nuclear strike.
I expected, upon my first reading of the Empheris, that it was some obscure academic treatise written by a crackpot professor. Instead, it seems that Malachi had a deep love of the tabloid Weekly World News. His opening page of each volume is done in the sensational style of this newspaper. The text is a straightforward narrative. Why Malachi chose this form is unknown—he does not explain in any of the notes I have seen although the man wrote volumes, perhaps somewhere he does. It’s perplexing and paradoxical: if he truly wanted to present the truth of history as told by a different species, then why choose a form that immediately undermines the credibility of the story? Perhaps Malachi was having some fun with the premise that truth is indeed ultimately stranger than fiction.
There was general agreement within the Vatican that the cat living with Malachi was a powerful Ra. The real head scratcher was the purpose of all this. Was this Ra part of the wipe out the human race group or with those who opposed this drastic action? Was this part of a subtle warning—to get someone’s attention about the existence of Ra’s, their impact on humans throughout history and to shed light of the struggle going on within the ranks of world species? Or was this Malachi a poor delusional soul?
Malachi
Little is known about the author of the Empheris. There are no government records (they may have been expunged) of the man, such as birth, schooling, social security number, parents and employment. His true name is unknown. A sole record with the name Malachi Katz appears in the 1957 on a lease for a house in Brooklyn although it is suspected that this is an alias. His landlady, a Mrs Muriel Mandelbaum, said that he answered her for-rent ad by letter, paid rent a year in advance with a money order and had no other contact with her for 20 years. She said that the property was well-kept from what she could see from the outside. Evidently, if there was any work needed on the inside, such as plumbing, he handled it himself. Neighbors said that he never made any noise, that heavy drapes always covered the windows and that he was seen only in the morning and evening darkness, if ever. Food and household items were always delivered. He had a cat they say, never seen but that is a conclusion based on the purchases of canned food and litter. When asked why she had not seen the inside of the house for 20 years, Mrs. Mandelbaum replied with a shrug that since he was causing no trouble and paid the rent on time, it was none of her business.
However, in June of 1978 after non-payment of the rent, Mrs Mandelbaum used her key and entered the residence, fearing that the gentleman may have died. Neither he or the cat were there although a litter box was found. Mrs. Mandelbaum was astonished to find every room had been transformed into what she termed one gigantic library. Racks of books, magazines and other printed material ran parallel in the center of the rooms while filing cabinets lined the walls. Malachi had a bed in one corner on the top floor along with a desk. An old-school printing press was located in another corner, covered with a sheet. Mrs. Mandelbaum noted how neat and organized the entire house was. Lighting was minimal and extensive air conditioning was in use. Mrs. Mandelbaum also remarked that how unnaturally quiet it was in the house, reminding her of a creepy mausoleum.
Malachi’s disappearance intrigued the Monsignor. What caused this? Did something freak him out? The final Empheris concerned the crop circles that were beginning to appear in England. This was a serious rabbit hole: were the circles made by aliens or by man? If by aliens, were they the same group who had visited centuries ago? Did Malachi try and communicate with them or was it vice versa? Or was Malachi jerking everyone’s chain into thinking there was a connection when actually there was none. It would certainly be a flamboyant exit.
The Monsignor sent detectives who were on the Vatican payroll to Brooklyn. They interviewed people in the area. All agreed that they rarely saw Malachi and if they did, it was either early morning or at night. One break was a man who had seen him at a local library and workers there were quite familiar with Malachi. They remarked that it seemed he spent his life there and did massive amounts of photocopying. Another break solved how he distributed the Empheris. He would tack them on all sorts of things around the neighborhood, always at night.
One curious thing about the Kennedy piece was its size. Normally, the Empheris was a standard 8.5 x 11 piece of paper, printed on both sides. With the Kennedy volume, Malachi used a larger sheet to gatefold because the text was unusually long because of the length of narratives.
Things Malachi asserts in the Empheris
-All cats are telepathic and can communicate with each other and other species including humans…if they choose.
-Cats reincarnate (although not necessarily immediately after death) and remember events from past lives. Their term for reincarnation is cycles and those with more cycles naturally have more memory.
-These abilities are the result of interaction with extraterrestrial life forms who visited Earth several thousand years ago.
-The extraterrestrials admired cats above all others encountered on the planet and took pre-existing qualities in felines and enhanced them. While the extraterrestrials chose no contact with humans, the cats did and transformed several civilizations, notably the Egyptians. As a result, many aspects of extraterrestrial life, language, architecture and religion became intertwined with existing Egyptian culture and ideas to form a hybrid society.
-Some cats have “super-enhanced” abilities: can interact and manipulate with minds of others from some distance and have encyclopedic memory of the past.
These cats comprise around 1% of the modern feline population. Their abilities are passed down genetically through the male bloodline. Malachi named them Ra’s although amongst felines they known as something else, both untranslatable and unpronounceable in the human language. Generally, felines have no central governing system, no body of elders. While a cat is indeed a country in itself, there exists a code of conduct towards other cats and other species. However, amongst the Ra’s, a loose confederation towards a common cause has been known to occur.
Of all the volumes printed, it is this one about the Kennedy assassination that intrigued me the most. A cat caused a beloved president to be killed? That’s playing with fire and cats have the right to be concerned after their holocaust caused by a crazy pope. The use of two narratives was unusual as well, for generally it was first person accounts.
꩜꩜꩜
The Empheris Felidae, Volume CXVIII.
The Whiskers Narrative
How I met Thomas or Tom Cat
In 1965, I was living with a CIA analyst (redacted) working out of the headquarters in Langely VA. We lived in a neighborhood close to a retail strip and this was part of my patrol area. I was hanging out in the back alley by a dumpster with a orange tabby and a tuxedo behind the Italian joint. It was Fall with a bit of crispness in the air and everything smelled wonderful of leaf mold, tomato and garlic and osso bucco. God, they made a great bucco. I was gnawing on a generous portion when I heard the tabby scream and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take off in a flash. Striding up the alley was the biggest cat I have ever seen: black, uncut and easily weighing 25 pounds. The tuxedo was turned away moving in slow motion as this cat walked straight at me. I was frozen in fear and couldn’t tear my gaze from this creature. He was the most beautiful cat I have ever seen-big jaw, huge shoulders. He stopped about a foot from my nose (well within the lethal zone) and sat down, never taking his gaze off me. Well, I thought I was a goner when he said You got any bucco left? It’s great here. The best in the DC area. Speechless, I backed away from the bucco as he leaned forward to take a bite, never taking his eyes off me. I’ve seen you around, kid. You’re with (redacted). Indeed, this was true but how did he know my human? Do you know who I am? he asked as he tore off a piece of veal. I managed to stammer that I hadn’t a clue. You can relax, kid. I mean you no harm. He cocked his head to look towards my haunches. For someone without balls, you have them, kid. Didn’t run away when I walked up. I can respect that. Besides, I was hungry for some bucco and it messes my digestion if I get into a big hairy fight before eating. I must have relaxed a bit, I felt my eyelid move down for a split second and he chuckled. He took a step back and began to wash. Ohh, damn good. Go ahead and finish up, kid. I moved up and finished the piece. My name is Whiskers I said.
Yes, he said, that’s right, I remember. You were named by a little girl. Me too. I’m Thomas. The name rang a bell and he caught my quizzical look. I had read it somewhere in (redacted)’s papers. Why would this cat be in any of his papers?
The Thomas Narrative
How it began
I used to live at the White House. He was done washing and sat upright again and gazed at me intensely. I was known then as Tom Kitten.
That’s it I thought.Caroline Kennedy’s cat. Back in 61-62.
Yeah, I was Caroline’s kitty. Until her bitch mother forced her to get rid of me. He was getting more intense. My hair was starting to raise and fear was kicking in.
Yes, I heard. The President was allergic…
I didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence as he let loose an enormous growl and said nooooooooooo-that was bullshit the bitch concocted with Pam Turner (her press secretary). She was a messed-up piece of work. Spoiled little rich girl who became quite neurotic because her war-hero husband couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He was becoming quite animated, moving his front left paw to accentuate a point. No, I was booted because she was an obsessive. My hair was into things, you see, and that bothered the poor dear, he said sarcastically. Vanity and obsessive behavior. Bad mix in a human female. One day I am cuddled up to Caroline and the next I am with some low-level White House aide. I remembered hearing Caroline crying as I was taken away while her mother offered up some lame salve.The President was there and looked grim. At first I was confused-I thought perhaps I was going to the vet but instead after a bit of a drive I am delivered to a house in the suburbs. The people were sympathetic and the food was fine but I was upset over being separated from Caroline. I loved her and she loved me.
The Beginning of the Plan
The anger in his eyes seemed to shift into a deep sadness. His pose moved from upright to sphinx-like. I settled down as well only with my paws tucked in. We were nose to nose with about a foot separating us. He continued: I was filled with a rage towards the mother and began to think about revenge. My powers were starting to emerge and over the following months, I planned how I would take action against Jackie Kennedy. I needed information, something that the aide with low security clearance wouldn’t have, so I ran away and headed for Langley. There had a lot of Ra’s living with the CIA humans and with their help I worked my way into an analyst’s family. Over the months, a plan emerged. One of the Ra’s came across a pro-Castro nutjob by the name of Lee Harvey Oswald. Ex-Marine with excellent marksman rating living in Dallas Texas. What made him my choice to do the job was his psych report: a loser with self-grandiose ambitions. A good mindset open to manipulation. There were rumors he may have tried to shoot an Air Force general in the summer. Most importantly, the president and first lady were scheduled to go to Dallas in late November for a political speech. Perfect. I manipulated my human into taking a transfer to a field office in Dallas and I set out to make contact with Oswald. Before I left, a couple of the Ra's gave me a name of a powerful Ra named Pallas living in Dallas. Someone who could manipulate over long distances—a valuable asset if things went south.
The Plan solidifies
He shifted a bit and coughed. I was curious: None of the other Ra’s were opposed to your plan?
Naw, he said. They were generally indifferent to the fate of humans unless it directly impacted on us. That’s why they were there-to keep an eye on the humans. Remember, kid, the apes had the damn bomb and the Americans and Russians were at each other’s throats. We had Ra’s all over the world keeping tabs on these fools and were ready to intervene if it looked like they were going to blow each other and everyone else up. Killing Jackie Kennedy was small potatoes compared to preventing the end of the world.
He continued: Anyway-Oswald. What a putz. Not very bright, chaotic mind, intense feelings of inferiority but he did have a burning ambition: to be famous. So I planted the seed there: “Yeah, those rich folks always keeping people like you down. Look at that Jackie Kennedy with her baby voice and designer clothes and all the artsy-fartsy stuff. Always better than you. She would sneeze on someone like you and not give it a second thought”. I hung around Oswald’s house all night long for a week and drilled down into his dreams. He had a sweet wife, not the brightest either but totally at a loss as what to do with a nut like her husband. She always put out a saucer of milk for me. Always felt bad about that, setting her husband up and all. I had contacts as listening posts down at the Book Depository who reported back to me that Oswald was complaining about lack of sleep. Good. He was breaking down.
The Meeting with Pallas
Meanwhile I went to find Pallas to discuss the operation. He spent his days in a pool hall downtown where the coloreds hung out. He was about 10 years old, black with a bit of white on his chest. Green eyes. Pretty nondescript looking to most but I felt his presence a good 2 miles away. He knew I was coming.
He had a pleasant demeanor—a bit on the bemused side encountering this intense young Ra who had a plan. He listened politely and when I finished had a couple of suggestions: “Don’t trust your underdeveloped powers just yet and don’t ever trust the humans. You had better have a backup plan”. Neither thought had occurred to me. Pallas nodded and said,“You need to cover your tail, my young friend. Yes, if this Oswald gets caught and starts talking about hearing voices in his head, people will write him off as a nutcase. But we don’t want this probed too deeply, nothing to tip the humans off that we were behind the voices. Better to have him killed. I can do a quick mind hit on someone who will do the job and won’t remember a thing. I will set this up, just contact me with the details. Nothing will link back to us and that, my young friend is the paramount thing for all of us, especially Ra’s to consider”. He looked at me intently for a moment—long enough to cause a shudder along my spine and then wished me well and walked away.
The Day of the Assassination
On November 22, I had everything set. Oswald was briefed. I contacted Pallas with the plans and the best place for his man to intercept and kill Oswald. After a rainy morning, it began to clear. I entered the Book Depository around 10 am through the loading dock and waited for people to open doors so I could slither in and up the stairs to the 6th floor and waited for Oswald. I saw he had followed instructions and had set up boxes by the street-side window to steady his rifle. My heart was thumping in my chest, kid-I tell ya. All those months of work about to bear fruit and I would finally have my revenge against that stupid Kennedy woman. Oswald arrived around 12.10—his lunch hour. He unwrapped the rifle, put a cartridge in and sat on a book box. I quietly talked to him to bolster his confidence and calming him down as he was sweating and blinking. “C’mon marine, no time to let me down.” We heard the motorcade and the crowd noise began to increase. Oswald was peering out the window, shouldered his rifle, looked through the scope, panned the rifle slightly and pulled the trigger. The sound startled me and I admit I jumped and broke my concentration. Oswald swore under his breath and quickly shifted his position to his right and twice in quick succession loaded, aimed, shot, ejected. He put the rifle down, looked at me and said “It’s done,” and quickly made for the stairs. I was on his heels so I wouldn’t be trapped up there. My parting thought was to plant in Oswald a suggestion that he head for home, where I my assassin, a city cop, was waiting for him.
The plan unravels
Leaving the quiet of Book Depository stairs led to an explosion of sound and chaos of the sidewalk and street. People were shouting and screaming, police sirens were wailing. Some people were on the ground covering their children; police officers were hurrying around with guns drawn. I kept close to the side of the building both to avoid detection and being trampled. A cacophony of voices filled the air and a phrase kept being repeated: “The President’s been shot.” I stopped in my tracks. What do they mean the President’s been shot!! I flew into a rage. Three shots!! The son-of-a-bitch had three shots and he hit the wrong target!!! Then the horror set in. By not keeping continuously in his mind while he was executing the act, I had made a grievous mistake. The gunshot had interrupted my spell. I had to act quickly to clean up the mess I had made. I contacted Pallas who quietly sighed when I told him the news. “OK kid,” he said. “We have this guy that’s been in our back pocket for a while. Easy to control—there’s not much going on upstairs. A big Kennedy fan in a seedy business—he won’t be missed. Go to the Carousel Club over on Commerce and gain control over him. He loves to hang out with cops so no one will think it will be odd he is at the City Jail. Have the job done there in front of witnesses. Slam dunk.”
The rest is history. Ruby murdered Oswald and went to jail. Oswald was silenced. The world mourned a president and I had to live with what I had done. Odd, I was upset about being responsible for killing Caroline’s father, yet would have not given a whit if I killed her mother. I don’t remember much of the months afterward. I walked all night and slept all day. I lost weight and really didn’t give a shit about anything. One night, I was in this very alleyway, walking with my head down, when I sensed a Ra nearby. I brought my head up and saw Pallas behind the Italian place having a meal. He called over to me to join him. “Kid, you’re not looking too good. Have some bucco.” I licked a bit of the veal but my heart wasn’t into it. My heart was dead. Pallas came over an nuzzled my cheek. “We all make mistakes ,kid. What’s done is done. You have to learn from this. Your act changed the history of this world. There are huge responsibilities that go with with the power you hold. I feel responsible as well—I should have watched you more and drilled down on Oswald’s psyche—who knew he had the inner strength to withstand and disobey a Ra command. This sent shock waves through the community and as a result, we have started new training for young Ra’s and supplemented that for mature ones. So, some good has come out of this. The humans are just crazy and with the bomb—oy vey. Plus, the militants who want all the humans dead. I’d like you to come back to our community and join our efforts. We have a gift and must use it wisely. And for Christssakes, eat some bucco. You’ll feel better.” I nibbled some and he was right. For the first time in months, I felt something. My belly was full and my soul was filling with hope. “C’mon kid,” said Pallas, we have work to do and we both got up and walked out of the alley.
End of Whisker’s narrative
I had long finished eating by the time Thomas wrapped up his story. I felt deeply sad for him and internally was thankful I was not a Ra. Just an ordinary kitty. Well kid, he said, I got to mosey. Thanks for listening. We both got up and stretched. He began to walk back where he came from and called take care, kid over his shoulder. I never saw him again. I stayed with (redacted) for a few more years. One day I was nosing through his papers and I saw the name of Thomas’s human turn up on a report from the embassy in Beijing. I can only speculate that Thomas was with him.
꩜꩜꩜
I sat on couch shaking my head in disbelief. This is one helluva tale I exclaimed. Good grief, it reads like an X-file.
Well, replied Bin, the Empheris does exist. The Alien visit, their effect on human and feline culture is well-known in the feline community. What could not be ascertained by the Vatican investigators is whether or not any of the events described in the Empheris actually happened. Privately, the Monsignor thought that a powerful Ra (perhaps more than one) was using Malachi as a conduit to prepare the human world for the revelation of non-terrestrial life in the universe.
But why not have multiple Malachis across the world putting out the message? Why this singular, obscure person? Were there others but the evidence has been covered-up and destroyed? I asked.
Bin nodded: the Monsignor asked this as well and went as far to wonder if information was being hidden from him. His unit had its detractors among some of his superiors who had a certain hostility towards their efforts, expense in labor and money. I remember one incident where had I slid into his office at the tail end of what seemed to be a heated discussion. “What’s next, investigating Old Wive’s Tales?” one of his superiors asked, sarcastically, as he stomped out of the room. Vigilance towards threats to Christ and the Church is one thing. Chasing down rants by a delusional soul about super-cats is as crazy as the man himself.
I got up, added wood to the fire and sat back down. Bin was sitting upright in the Bastet pose. Tell me I asked, where did this website come from? Who posted the Empheris and are more Malachi volumes posted on that website? Bin began to lick his left paw, always a tell with him that he’d rather not answer. He always was a polite cat.
The truth is out there he said, finally. But with enormous credible deniability by both Church and State. That’s just how they roll. Clearly, they continue to believe that the public are not ready for official revelations. That’s why I am able to show you the site. You have credible deniability as well. They will go the same route as they did with the Empheris— simply let the tale stand for itself: the ravings of a nutcase related by the creative musings of an amateur writer who enjoys his wine and claims to have been told the tale by a reincarnate talking cat. Bin nuzzled me. It’s all good, man. Publish the piece and enjoy the pleasure it brings to others. Now, how about fixing me a snack?
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