Kubrick's Cats

Blinking lights and a thousand useless switches. Tiny triangular windows surrounded by heavy bolts. The space was cramped, but he was calm. It was his companion who was having a problem with the lack of space. He was curled over his instruments into the smallest possible space to make the interior feel bigger.

“That’s one small step for man, and a big one for mankind.” The man with the military cut paused and scratched his head. “It still doesn’t sound right.”

“You need more gravitas,” said the balding one, not looking up from the instrument panel.

“So maybe ‘today, man takes a small step and humanity leaps forward.’”

The bald one just shook his head.

“Alright, do you have any ideas?” The military cut asked, annoyed, scratching out the line he’d just written.

“This is supposed to be a historic moment, it’s got to sound like it.”

“How about? ‘Today, mankind takes its first step onto another world and into a bright new future.’”

“It’s got to sound real, like maybe you thought about it before, maybe it was inspired in the moment, but not like it’s from a script.”

“Well hell,” said the military cut, throwing up his hands. “I’ll just ask Stan.”

“30 feet. 2 ½ down. Faint Shadow,” said the balding one.

“4 forward. 4 forward. Drifting to the right a little. Okay. Down a half.”

“30 seconds.”

“Forward drift?” the military cut asked.

“Yes. Okay. CONTACT LIGHT.”

“Okay. ENGINGE STOP.”

The contraption jerked to the right and banged into the ground and Military Cut swore.

“CUT!”

“What the hell was that?” asked Bald One, a bump already growing on his forehead where it had hit the instrument panel.

“Dan, what’s going on up there? You almost dented the thing.”

“Sorry Stan.” The crane operator’s voice was apologetic. “Jerked the controls a little too hard.”

Stan swore, then collected himself. “Jerry, Dan, do you guys want to finish the sequence and then redo the landing shoot later or should we go again?”

“Let’s keep going, Stan,” said Jerry at a nod from Dan.

“All right. Stage crew, right the lander. We’ll shoot in five minutes.”

Stan walked off stage as the production crew moved forward to fix the gigantic prop. He walked to the back corner of the studio where a table had been pushed up against the wall and covered with plush and colorful pillows. Two cats lounged astride them regally, watching haughtily as Stan approached.

“You know I had tickets to Tom and Jerry Live today?” asked the cat with white paws. “Instead, he brought us along to this little propaganda shoot.”

“Anyone can get tickets to Tom and Jerry Live,” said the one with a striped tail quietly.

“Still,” said White Paws disdainfully. He started licking himself.

“How are you guys?” asked Stan affectionately.

Striped Tail purred and White Paws continued licking himself.

Stan pet Striped Tail, increasing the purring, and put a hand out to White Paw. The cat stopped licking himself and joined his companion in a deep purr.

“Anything I can get you?”

White Paws hissed.

“Milk, coming right up. Herald!” He called at a production assistant. “Get me a bowl of warm milk. Now!”

The scrawny teenager rushed away and Stan turned back to his cats.

“Ready on set!” called someone from the stage.

“Come get me if you need anything else.” Stan bent down and kissed each on their head and then headed back to the set.

“All quiet on set!”

“Action!”

A white-suited figure was already on the module’s ladder.

“I’m going to step off the LM now.”

His booted foot hit the soft dust and sank a few centimeters into it. “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for…humanity.”

“God damn it! CUT!” Stan started on one of his rants. “How many times have I told you…”

Back in the corner, White Paws looked at Striped Tail who was sharpening her claws on the edge of the metal bowl of milk. “So, explain this to me?” he asked in a bored voice, as if he was only asking because he had nothing better to do. “How is this supposed to help them win the war again?”

“It’s not actually a war. Not a hot one anyway.”

“Yah, yah,” said White Paws, waving a paw dismissively. “How’s it supposed to help?”

“If the Americans can land on the moon, it shows everyone else that capitalism is better than communism because the Commies couldn't make it to the moon first.”

“And they’ve spent how much on this boondoggle?”

“Billions. That’s why they brought Stan in,” said Striped Tail.

“That’s one small step for man. One giant leap for mankind.”

“Hey he got it,” said Striped Tail, looking back to the set.

Just at that moment, a red phone on the wall wrang loudly, shattering the silence of the shoot.

Stan swore loudly and repeatedly as a PA picked up the phone. “It’s for you, Sir,” he said, holding the phone out to Stan.

Stan walked over and pressed the receiver to his ear. “What?” he snapped.

An unreadable expression crossed Stan’s face as he listened to the voice on the other end of the call. “Got it,” he said finally, and put the phone back on the wall. He walked back to set slowly and then looked around at the questioning faces, some of which had similar looks of annoyance to Stan’s just a minute before at being interrupted. “Well folks, that’s a wrap.”

“What?!” Called the man in the white suit standing on the powdered dust.

“They did it,” said Stan simply. “They actually did it. They landed on the Moon.”

“So what the hell was the point of all this?” asked the man in white, pulling his helmet off and throwing it on the ground.

Stan shrugged, “Insurance? And thank god for that, no one would have ever bought this crap.”

White Paws looked from Striped Tail to the set and back again. “Hell, I could’ve told him that two weeks ago and we could’ve spent that money on a spa weekend. And…” he added, “I would have gotten to see Tom and Jerry Live.”

“You know we can just go tomorrow, right?”