The Chronicles of Ether Drive

   Chapter 5 During the summer, the night is never too dark on the island, especially if the sky is clear, and even more so for the eyes of our furry friends. Remi, newly turned into Bise, was just discovering how suddenly familiar she was with all the feline antics—Sirocco’s playfulness, Mistral’s aristocratic laziness, and the hunting of shadows, balls, slippers, or pencils chewed on by Aeolus or even Anemo during his feverish creative moods. All of this, and so much more combined, meant a unique, extraordinary, and fantastic experience for her. However, on the night I am telling you about, the plans were quite different, and the furry crew had to act with perfect, textbook synchronization. "Psst, Aeolus, take the helm!" the white cat called out in a whispered voice. But Sirocco, being Sirocco, got instantly excited, as if they were about to board a ship straight out of the movies. "Are we going on a ship like pirates?" "Not quite, little one," Mistral c...

   Chapter 4 In the kitchen of the House of Winds, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Anemo paced back and forth restlessly, his bare feet cold against the tiled floor, completely lost in thought when the phone in his pocket gave a short buzz. He had received a notification. But before he could even unlock the screen or read the saving message sent in secret by the furry crew, the bronze lion-shaped knocker on the front door began to pound violently. "I'm coming! Hold your horses, the house isn't on fire!" "Are you sure about that?" Frost replied the moment the door swung open. "Have you seen the circus outside your place?" He had just managed to reach the door with great effort, sweaty and irritated under his long trench coat. Because of the chaos caused by reporters, who had completely blocked off Ether Drive with broadcast vans and tripods, the detective had been forced to park his car all the way at the other end of the street. H...

  Chapter 3 On the living room carpet, Sirocco, who was usually so bursting with energy, lay like a marathon runner who had just crossed the finish line. “You know, Aeolus, my stomach thinks someone slit my throat and it’s screaming for help, but I don’t even have the strength to eat.” “How come, shorty? Where have you guys been putting up flyers?” Mistral asked. “Eveeeerywhere! Miss Remi is on every single pole... double-time.” “What do you mean? How am I double-time?” Remi whispered, as if terrified the humans might hear her. “On one side, the missing successful writer, and on the other, the found purebred Angora cat...” “Mon Dieu! Somebody pinch me!” Mistral felt utterly drained himself, even though he hadn’t left the house. After the humans left to post the flyers, the fur-balls left at home tried to take advantage of the writer’s cell phone, but... it was dead. Now, another “Mission Impossible” was needed to charge the phone’s battery without the grownups noticing, and without...

   Chapter 2 “Ma chérie, my conscience is nagging me...” “Why, Mistral? Because you didn’t become friends with me back when I was still a woman?” “That too, but if my stomach hadn’t been so loud, if I hadn’t asked for food, if...” Sirocco, the little ginger, looked at the two cats who were bigger than him, and since “loylity” was something he was learning more and more each day, he timidly began to apologize. “Yeah, but if I hadn’t played with that ‘bizz-bizz’ thing in the yard, if it hadn’t gotten stuck up in that ‘mayonnaise’ tree...” “Japanese, kiddo, Japanese. The elegance of a Japanese cherry tree has absolutely nothing to do with mayonnaise, Sirocco.” “But someone would have thought that necklace, collar, or whatever it is, has magical powers,” Aeolus sighed from under the silk fringes of Mistral’s pillow. “We checked that day. The original is in the Cairo museum, under strict guard.” “Something doesn’t add up here. It’s impossible for it to be a replica in Cairo, under....

 Chapter 1   Cats Can’t Be Tamed Either The morning of June 22nd was far from ordinary for the House of the Winds, and by no means was it quiet. Anemo came downstairs groggy, disheveled, and at an unusually early hour for a writer who mostly worked through the night. First on the list was his daily coffee—pink salt and whipped cream—but as he passed through the kitchen on his way to the press, he noticed that alongside his two cats' bowls, three little animals were now lined up instead of two. Next to Mistral and Sirocco stood a white cat, a Turkish Angora (most likely), with piercing blue eyes. “Are you still here, kitty? I feel bad for you, but I promise I’ll find your family. Let me take a photo! I’m sure your people are looking for you!” he said. Then, grabbing his phone, he addressed the toms, waving his free hand as if directing traffic.  “Come on, boys, let me get a photo of 'The Duchess' so I can post it in the groups... maybe we’ll find her home.” “Quel idio...

  EPILOGUE: The Summer Solstice More than a month had passed since the Great Collective Grounding, and Anemo had succeeded in publishing The Chronicles of Ether Drive. He had even held several book-signing sessions with children who had become, overnight, fervent fans of the writer and the furry inhabitants of the House of Winds. The evening I am speaking of was no ordinary one; it was the night of the summer solstice, June 21st. The light of the longest day of the year did not yield easily; it refused to make way for the dark, instead dissolving imperceptibly into a violet evening, seemingly woven with magic. In Anemo’s living room, everyone close to him had gathered: Fleur with her curly tuft of hair, Noel alongside Gill and Jim, Aura and Simoon, Remi Storm, and, of course, Mr. Arbalest—officially known as Archibald Peter Stone. They were all prepared to watch the pilot episode of the animated series already streaming on Netmix.  The furry residents occupied a place of honor...

Chapter 20 The Great Grounding  Aeolus had vanished from among the white geraniums, but not entirely. He hadn't fled from the TIIIIII that was shattering the garden. He wasn't afraid of big words. He had gone on a mission... Agent 003.5. Half the size of James Bond. Twice as brave. With a license to press red buttons. He couldn't leave Anemo prisoner to that dreadful microphone, with all its feedback and his implausible, rambling, and... elucubrant speech. A prisoner of the burning spotlights. The audience held its breath. Daisy Queen had dropped her fan. Remi was biting her lips. Anemo wanted the earth to swallow him up, microphone and all, but he couldn't stop spouting "pearls." So, Aeolus said to himself: “Enough.” He slipped under Arbaest ‘s table. He sped past Daisy’s heels. He turned down the side aisle, past the green, black, and brown bins. There, hugging the wall of the house, the gray cabinet awaited him. “ESB Meter + Garden Circuits,” it read. The s...

 Chapter 19  Wednesday At exactly 5:00 PM, Aura’s house and garden were perfectly prepared for the "great televised event." The garden in particular, where the event was to take place, had been transformed into a small corner of paradise. The touch of Mrs. Gale—the neighborhood’s own Goddess Durga—was visible everywhere: from the elegant garden tables covered in fine, off-white washed linen, to the warm light emanating from rustic lanterns. The technical crew had blended into the landscape, becoming practically invisible, while the background music—a discreet guitar—recalled the hostess's love for fado. In a corner, under the blooming branches of a purple lilac bush, on a matching velvet cushion, Mistral and Sirocco—their fur freshly brushed, wearing starched white silk bow ties—were commentating alongside the omnipresent but eternally camouflaged Aeolus. He was just two steps away, tucked inside the wheelbarrow filled with trailing white geraniums, a true delight for the...

 Chapter 18 The Collar of the Two Skies “I’m so glad to see you, Dad! I can’t wait for you to tell me everything. Did you meet Noel? Your friend is as full of life as ever!” “Well said, son! Come, take your coffee, or better yet, let’s make one for him too and head over to Noel’s!” “Through the yard or the front door?” Anemo asked while preparing another mug of his “mummy-waking” potion. “Through the front door, like the civilized people we are, son. I can’t wait to see the look on his face!” Silence settled over Anemo’s kitchen, interrupted only by the buzz of a stray fly and Sirocco’s hurried breathing. The khaki backpack, left “to be tempted” by the table leg, was now their great challenge. “Now is the moment!” Mistral muttered, positioning himself strategically on the tiles. “Kiddo, show us what you fished out of the Professor’s ‘cave.’ But be careful, it’s an arfefact, not a chew toy!” Sirocco didn't hesitate. With a determined tug, he pulled out the Collar of the Two Skies. T...

     Chapter 17  Arfefacts and Tevevision Preparations On Wednesday morning—that Wednesday—the sleepy silence of the House of Winds was shattered by some impatient pounding on the door; the lion-shaped metal knocker had turned into a true percussion instrument. "ba-baba-bam-ba-ba-ba..." Asleep on the living room windowsill, not on his comfortable pillow, Mistral would have cursed, but he remembered he was an educated chat noir. "Mon Dieu! Ce n'est pas possible! It’s still early! My fur needs at least 9 hours of sleep, otherwise it loses its sheen!" "Who-who is coming, Mistral? Is it the Lady Mother? Has that event already started and we... we are still sleeping?" Sirocco asked immediately, making an instant appearance with his fluffy tail in the shape of a question mark. "Mistral, is it time to wake Anemo? Has Mrs. Aura arrived?" Aeolus asked as well, preparing to make his way from the corner of the fireplace to the windowsill where Mistral w...

    Chapter 16: Wi-Fi and Lemonade Anemo walked slowly beside his editor toward the house. He was still barefoot, as his plush slippers were too muddy to be worn, so he carried them in one hand like a fresh catch from a day of hunting or fishing. He didn’t walk on the pavement but along its edge, through the grass, struggling to keep his soles clean; he tried to appear relaxed, breaking the awkward silence between him and Stone with an occasional "Ahem" or a "So..." tossed out aimlessly, just to give himself time to think, to remember whether or not he had actually sent the manuscript. He was so confused that he had begun to wonder if he had truly finished writing or if he had only dreamed it, but now there was nothing left to do but continue his journey alongside the man of "grounding," swinging the arm holding the slippers and launching an occasional small projectile of mud that Fleur, a few steps behind them, had to dodge. From time to time, a more stub...

  Chapter 15: Fun and Loy-lity “Hey, gang!” came a voice from behind. “Next time, take me along to play too!” Remi Storm, looking like a teenager in her sports gear, was waving for them to wait. “She’s the only one missing!” Mistral thought with weary resignation, but to his surprise, the whole gang stopped like a freeze-frame to wait for the newcomer. “How are you, Mr. Noel? I haven't seen you in ages.” “I’m doing well, child! Seeing you makes me miss my own children a bit less!” Noel replied, visibly delighted to meet Remi. “Do you still have the whistle you used to start our races? Remember? Anemo, me, Gill, and Jim, all lined up and waiting for the start... Anemo and Jim were the fastest, taking turns.” “Oh, these allergies!” Noel said, wiping away a tear. “I still have a whistle in my pocket, want to see?” Noel opened his palm slowly, presenting a silver whistle that gleamed in the sunlight like a precious treasure. “Is that what you used to train your pigeons, right?” Fleur a...

  Chapter 14: The Match of the Century "Pssst, Mistral! Mistral, you really should warn Anemo somehow!" Aeolus was trying his hardest to be heard and understood by his furry comrade, who was once again busy with his siesta on the living room windowsill. He lay in the honey-colored sunlight that transmitted only the warmth, but not the biting "teeth" typical of Irish weather, through the glass. But Mistral was simply deep in... siesta, much like Anemo often plunges into the fever of writing, hearing nothing. Sirocco, wanting to lend a hand, executed a leap that wasn't exactly successful. Intending to land next to Mistral on the windowsill—but since mathematical calculations and distance estimation are not, as you know, the little guy's forte—he found himself clinging with his tiny claws to the curtain. He dangled dangerously, ready to fall, but with another leap, he landed "safely"... right on the black coil known as Mistral the Parisian, who jumped...