Milliken put a few dabs of British Racing Green on the fender he had just got done sanding, waited a few minutes, then frowned. It had gone off. Not surprising since it had been canned back in 2023, over fifty years ago. Modern vehicles didn’t even have wheels, let alone fenders, and their body repairs were achieved by simply replacing damaged panels with duplicates. Even if there were duplicate fenders available for a 1975 Lotus Super Seven, he would have preferred to repair and reshape the original equipment. The process renewed Milliken as much as anything he fixed.
There was nothing for it. Toxic car paints had been replaced by a new high-tech product for color-matching. It was filled with pixels that were tiny autobots or “color drones” which reflected light differently depending on how they were pointed. Touching a surface painted with this substance with a sample of any color made the entire surface – every part that was painted – turn that true color immediately. As he was ordering the new paint, four high-pitched voices pleaded desperately for cloned cat food. The little tortoiseshell beauties were every color all at once.
The kittens all turned towards the delivery chute when the drone dropped off Milliken’s order fifteen minutes later. He opened the can of paint and was reading the label intently until a chorus of mews redirected his attention to the cat food. He opened a can, but then his curiosity got the better of him and he opened the can of paint. Then he went to the garage to get a sample of the British Racing Green, but when he returned the can of paint was overturned and empty and all of the kittens were missing.
A quick forensic examination revealed that the cat food can was upside-down and empty and there was a tiny paw print that kept turning different colors. First it was wood-grain, then it turned the color of terrazzo tile. Milliken looked over to where the living room gave way to the kitchen. Suddenly the cat tracks turned the matte black color of the mat in front of the sink. He could hear their little voices chirping from that general direction.
He opened another can of food and put it on a bright red mat on the floor. A few minutes later, there were three bright red cats trailing one another across the tile floor and one invisible cat enjoying fresh food. As he washed the expensive mess out of their fur later, Milliken realized that his little charges had been perfectly camouflaged. Had he any ambition, he might have turned that strategic advantage into a personal fortune. But, alas, he did not; preferring the existing process.
