Social Science

Collected Data



Twitter Bot



Random Number Generator

#11 of Twitter Bot responses was "Accurate Cat Stress"


Maxey. Room 204. Midnight.

A deep yawn stretches across the room, softening the silence. Scattered papers cower under pressure, caught between a desk and a forearm, ruffling slightly as the arms owner shifts her weight. Sitting among her slowly amassed clutter sits an anthropology major, eyelids flickering over sandpaper eyes. Another yawn escapes her, longer and deeper than before. One sharp inhale and relaxed exhale later, something resembling focus is regained. Pouring over the same notes like a natural waterfall: constant, never ending, she realizes her efforts may be in vein. A third yawn in the horizon when, suddenly, the world beyond the open doorway shifts as a blur obscures the previously stagnant scene. Curious, the exhausted anthropology enthusiast breaks the bond between her upper thighs and her chair to investigate. Now outside of her temporary home, she glances down the hall, surveying for abnormalities. Again the blur appears and disappears, this time headed down the hall parallel to her own. She sprints now, curiosity boiling over and soaking her socks. As she rounds the corner, a brown blockade brings her to a sudden halt. Neck angled downwards, she finds herself in the presence of a cat. Confused but excited, she extends her palm gently

“Hey kitty” she says, expecting, as anyone would, no reciprocated greeting. However…

“Hi” the cat responds hurriedly, paying no mind to the girl or the palm yet rather walking frantically around, glancing at each black wall quickly before moving to the next.

The girl indulges in what she assumes must be a sign that she needs more sleep.

“What’re you doing in here little guy?” she questions, quickening her pace to keep up.

“Time, must hurry, what time,” murmurs the cat, though to whom is unclear.

“Do you need the time?” inquires the girl, wondering how she would explain such a bizarre hallucination to her friends. Without missing a beat the cat whips around and stares the girl in the face.

“You have the time?” Yes I need it, now!”

“Well it’s around midnight I’d say,” the girl answered, taken aback by the urgency of her illusions.

“No no,” the cat expresses with frustration, “I need the exact time”

With unexplainable compliance, the girl takes out her phone.

“It is 12:03am”

“Thank you!” the cat says as it dashes towards the nearest set of stairs, leaving the girl alone once again. She retreats to her humble Maxey abode, lays down her head on the soft pillow of one part knowledge two parts doodle, and succumbs to what she now knows is a much needed slumber.

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