The Inspector was peering into the refrigerator with a puzzled expression, carefully tilting a glass jug back and forth. “Cat, come here! Have you heard about the latest gizmo the boffins have come up with for Baffleberry juice?”
Cat, lounging on the kitchen counter with his tail flicking lazily, opened one eye. “Oh, enlighten me. Have they finally invented a device that prevents you from subjecting me to your culinary disasters?”
Ignoring the jibe, the Inspector continued, excitement bubbling in his voice. “It’s a BaffleBerry Beamer! It uses quantum entanglement or some such wizardry to make invisible Baffleberry juice visible again! No more guessing if you’re about to pour air or actual juice into your morning glass.”
Cat sat up, intrigued despite himself. “Quantum entanglement, you say? And here I was thinking the height of human invention was the Spork. Pray, do tell, how does this contraption work without causing a quantum paradox every time you fancy a drink?”
“Well,” the Inspector started, adopting the tone he used when he was about to explain something he did not understand, “you place this little gadget on the shelf of your fridge, right next to your jug of Baffleberry juice. It emits a harmless, quantum-entangled photon stream that interacts with the juice, making it glow a delightful shade of purple. You can see exactly how much is left, even if it’s been in there for days!”
Cat smirked. “Delightful shade of purple, you say? How absolutely revolutionary. I’m sure the Baffleberriers will be over the moon, or should I say, over Siluria. But tell me, does this photon stream also decipher the taste before one embarks on a gastronomical gamble?”
The Inspector chuckled, closing the refrigerator door. “Ah, Cat, always the sceptic. Unfortunately, it doesn’t predict the flavour. You’ll still have to brace yourself for the possibility of a raw onion juice surprise with your breakfast. But at least you’ll know you’re about to drink something, not just chilling your taste buds with cold air.”
Cat hopped off the counter, sauntering towards the living room. “Well, I suppose that’s one small step for man, one giant leap for Baffleberriers. Though I must confess, I’m more interested in a device that prevents you from singing in the shower. Now, that would be a true marvel of science.”
The Inspector scowled, following Cat into the living room. “Oh, come now, Cat. My singing is not that bad.”
“True,” said Cat, “Especially when I have my ear defenders on”.
As they settled in for the evening, the wonders of human and Silurian innovation the topic of their banter, it was clear that life with the Inspector and Cat was never dull, especially with Baffleberry juice in the fridge and the universe’s mysteries at their doorstep.
The Inspector and Cat 