The kitten was six weeks old. It was enchanting, a delicate fairy-tale cat, whose Siamese genes showed in the shape of the face, ears, tail, and the subtle lines of its body. … She sat, a tiny thing, in the middle of a yellow carpet, surrounded by five worshipppers, not at all afraid of us. Then she stalked around that floor of the house, inspecting every inch of it, climbed up on to my bed, crept under the fold of a sheet, and was at home.

Captain! You can’t hold them off! I tried! I swear! They’ve been artificially enhanced, sir! But all the humans died out – there’s bones out there by the millions! They were all suffocated by cuteness! The World is full of kiitens, oh the horror!
‘My God,’ Hadrian said. “They’ve finally did it! All those oh-so-cute-my-cuddy-kittens-here’s-a-pic bastards! They finally went and did it!