Some falls happen once. Some happen every night at 3 AM. The Bureau accepted the Vandermeer Bedside Case because the client was tired and because the cat was extremely consistent.
Background
A glass of water, half full, stood on a bedside table for six years without incident. Then the household acquired a ginger cat named Sergeant Crumpet. The glass has since fallen, with the same sound, on forty one separate occasions. The client wanted to know why, and also whether we could make it stop. We explained that the Bureau replicates; it does not prevent. She hired us anyway.
The Night Watch
Inspector Biscuit and Replicator Fenwick spent three nights in the bedroom, observing from the wardrobe. On the first night the glass did not fall. On the second night it fell at 3:07 AM. On the third night the glass fell at 3:07 AM again, which our team found unnerving, because Sergeant Crumpet was visibly asleep.
The Sound
The Bureau records the sound of each fall in decibels, but the more reliable measure is the client’s reaction, which we have graded on a five point scale. The scale runs from mild groan to full name shouting. The Vandermeer case reached a four.
“I was awake before the glass hit the floor. I do not know how. I think I was waiting.” Mr. Vandermeer, speaking from the pillow.
The Departure
On the fourth morning, when the Bureau announced it would replicate the fall under controlled lighting, Sergeant Crumpet stood up, looked at the glass, and left the room. He did not return for six hours. We have recorded this as the first time a subject has declined to perform when told it was being filmed.
Conclusion
Interview With The Client
We sat down with Mr. Vandermeer in the kitchen, since the bedroom was now classed as an active site. He offered tea, then offered whisky, then took the tea back. He told us that he has slept lightly since the first fall, and that his wife now wears a hat to bed to protect her from airborne water, which we did not think was necessary but did not discourage.
“It is not the water,” he said. “It is the timing. It happens when I have just dreamt something good.” He then asked whether we could replicate the dream, which is outside the Bureau’s scope, though Replicator Fenwick offered to lie on the bed and look hopeful.
The Sergeant’s Methods
Over the course of the stakeout we observed Sergeant Crumpet’s technique in detail. He does not simply swat the glass. He first sits near it, then sniffs it, then dips one whisker in it as if checking the temperature of a bath. He then lifts a paw, holds it there for a count of eight, and lowers it without touching anything. This is a feint, aimed at the human. Only when the human has relaxed does the real push occur.
The Bureau has named this the Crumpet Feint and intends to publish it in a paper that nobody will read, although cats will certainly sit on it.
Cost Of The Case
The Vandermeer case ran to three nights, two cameras and one very large bag of crisps eaten by Fenwick in the wardrobe. The invoice, itemised, came to a figure that Mr. Vandermeer described as reasonable but sad. We offered a discount in exchange for a testimonial. He offered a different testimonial. We have not published it.
Afterword
A week after the investigation the glass fell again, at 3:07, with no one in the room. The Bureau considers the case reopened. It is also considering a long term subscription, in which the cat falls a glass for us once a month so that we never have to wait.
We take comfort in the fact that some things in this world can be counted on. Dawn. Taxes. A small splash at 3:07.
The glass fell twice during our controlled trials, both times when the cat was somewhere else and believed to be unobserved. We believe the cat was operating by remote influence. The Bureau has filed this under Unexplained and Delighted.
