The 713 Connection
Some evenings change history. This one began at exactly 7:13 PM.
“The spread of the HIV epidemic among young adults has dropped dramatically over the last three years, according to the latest report released today.”
I heard the news from the kitchen.
The kettle had just begun to whistle.
I switched off the stove and came into the hall.
Krishna was on the sofa.
Of course.
7:13 PM.
He was watching the news.
If you have not met Krishna before, stop here and read The Monogamy Virus first.
This story continues from there.
Otherwise, much of what follows will not make complete sense.
The newsreader continued.
“Some researchers are calling the phenomenon the Monogamy Effect. Others have jokingly referred to it as the Love Virus.”
The screen showed graphs.
Downward curves.
Red lines becoming green.
Doctors smiling.
Young couples smiling.
Politicians smiling.
Humans smile a lot when a graph goes down.
“The reasons for the decline remain unclear,” the newsreader said. “Experts point to greater awareness, improved treatment, safer sexual practices and… perhaps most significantly… a marked increase in stable long-term relationships.”
Krishna watched without blinking.
I sat beside him.
“So,” I said, “love has finally defeated HIV.”
Krishna looked at me.
It was difficult to tell whether he was amused or disappointed.
The report changed.
Something else had apparently been noticed.
Over the same period, there had been another unusual trend.
More couples were adopting cats.
The number had increased dramatically.
Nobody knew why.
There was no government campaign.
No celebrity endorsement.
No particular breed had become fashionable.
People simply wanted cats.
Black cats.
Grey cats.
Orange cats.
White cats.
Calico cats.
The newsreader called it “a curious sociological coincidence.”
I looked at Krishna.
He looked at the television.
I began to wonder.
The black cats were the first to attract attention.
They preferred couples who were independent.
Both worked.
Both travelled.
Neither liked being told what to do.
They had separate bank accounts.
Separate hobbies.
Sometimes separate bedrooms.
The black cat would enter their house, inspect it carefully and then choose one particular corner.
That was all.
No begging.
No pleading.
No jumping on laps.
It simply occupied the corner.
Within months, the couple would begin spending more time at home.
Not because the cat demanded it.
Because they wanted to.
The cat had apparently discovered the most effective way to bring two libertarians together.
Do nothing.
The grey cats were different.
They preferred couples who were similar.
Same food preferences.
Same sleep timings.
Same political opinions.
Same intolerance for noisy neighbours.
Same dislike of relatives.
A grey kitten was once found outside a café.
It walked directly between a couple arguing about whether to move to Chennai or Bengaluru.
They stopped arguing.
The kitten sat down.
They both bent down at the same time.
“It’s yours,” the woman said.
“No. Yours.”
The kitten looked at both of them.
They took it home.
Three months later they were married.
The cat attended the wedding.
It slept through the entire ceremony.
Orange cats had a different strategy.
They chose emotional couples.
People who fought easily.
People who cried easily.
People who said things like I don’t need anyone and then checked their phones every thirty seconds.
An orange kitten once ran into the middle of a road while being chased by three street dogs.
A young couple in a car stopped.
The woman got out first.
The man followed.
The kitten ran straight between them and hid behind the woman’s ankle.
They took it home.
The woman wanted to keep it.
The man said no.
The cat stayed.
The man stayed.
Eventually, the argument ended.
The cat had won.
Nobody knew what the cat had wanted.
That was the strange thing.
The cats never seemed interested in ownership.
They didn’t behave like pets.
They behaved like participants.
There were white cats who preferred gentle couples.
Calicos who chose complicated families.
Striped cats who preferred people who lived alone.
There were even cats that seemed to choose couples who had recently separated.
These cats were particularly irritating.
They would enter the house.
Eat.
Sleep.
Ignore everyone.
And somehow, six months later, the couple would be talking again.
Nobody understood how.
Cats were supposed to be selfish.
Independent.
Territorial.
Libertarian.
They were not supposed to care about human relationships.
Yet they seemed to understand something humans had spent thousands of years trying to understand.
Who belonged with whom.
More importantly, the cats never tried to control the couples.
They did not demand obedience.
They did not ask for promises.
They did not ask for passwords.
They simply entered the relationship.
And stayed.
The couples became attached to them.
The attachment was surprisingly deep.
People who had never wanted children began calling themselves “Amma” and “Appa.”
Men who had never cried in public became inconsolable when their cat developed a fever.
Women who had left relationships because they felt trapped stayed awake all night holding a sleeping kitten against their chest.
Some couples said the cat had saved their marriage.
Some said the cat had saved their lives.
Nobody asked the obvious question.
Why were the cats doing this?
Perhaps because humans always assume that if something loves them, it must be harmless.
The newsreader returned.
“Experts continue to debate the reason behind the simultaneous decline in HIV transmission and increase in long-term relationships.”
A graph appeared.
Then photographs of couples.
Every photograph had something else in common.
A cat.
Black.
Grey.
Orange.
White.
Calico.
Different cats.
Different couples.
Same phenomenon.
The reporter smiled.
“One researcher described the development as ‘the largest spontaneous social experiment in human history.’”
I laughed.
Krishna did not.
He was watching the screen very seriously.
The reporter continued.
“And there is one more curious finding.”
I stopped laughing.
“Researchers studying the households involved have noticed that the cats display an unusual behaviour.”
The screen showed several cats sitting in different houses.
A black cat.
A grey cat.
An orange cat.
A white one.
All sitting in front of television screens.
All watching the news.
The reporter said:
“Almost every cat in these households watches the evening news at precisely 7:13 PM.”
I slowly turned towards Krishna.
He was sitting on the sofa.
Exactly where he had been six years ago.
Exactly at 7:13.
The news continued.
“Scientists have not yet found an explanation for this behaviour.”
The television continued speaking in the other room.
I looked at Krishna.
He was watching the screen.
Then I noticed my laptop.
It was open.
I don’t remember opening it.
There was a document on the screen.
No title.
No author.
Just a timestamp.
19:13:04
I moved closer.
It looked like a research journal.
There were graphs.
Tables.
Thousands of entries.
I scrolled.
PROJECT: HUMAN SOCIAL STABILITY
Phase 1 … Viral Behavioural Pressure Status: Complete
I stopped.
Below it:
Phase 2 … Pair Bonding Status: Complete
Then:
Phase 3 … Companion Integration Status: 93%
My fingers became cold.
I scrolled further.
There were categories.
BLACK … Independent / High autonomy
GREY … Compatibility / Behavioural similarity
ORANGE … Emotional dependency
WHITE … High empathy
CALICO … Complex social environments
I stared at the screen.
The cats hadn’t been randomly entering people’s lives.
They had been selecting them.
The next line was simpler.
OBJECTIVE: NORMALISE FELINE PRESENCE WITHIN HUMAN PAIR-BONDING STRUCTURES.
Below that:
RESULT: SUCCESSFUL
I swallowed.
There was one final section.
CURRENT PROJECT STATUS
I clicked it.
The screen displayed a single sentence.
Phase 4 … Collective Human Attachment
In progress.
I read it again.
Behind me, Krishna jumped onto the sofa.
I turned.
He was looking at me.
Not at the laptop.
At me.
For a moment, I felt something very strange.
Fear.
And affection.
The two emotions arrived together.
Perhaps that was the whole point.
Krishna looked at the television.
7:13 was over.
The news had ended.
He closed his eyes.
I looked back at the computer.
The document had disappeared.
Only one line remained.
NEXT REVIEW: PLANNING IN PROGRESS.
I looked at Krishna.
He opened one eye.
And smiled.
The same smile.
As if he had been waiting for me to finally catch up.
I smiled back.
Continued in The Protocol Provenance.