Nostradamus curled in a tight ball on top of the refrigerator, his favorite napping place on a chilly evening. He purred rhythmically as he sang himself to sleep.

At his desk, Robert sat before his computer, an old clunker which also purred rhythmically, even hypnotically, joining in a harmonic blend of cat and machine. As always, it served to lull him into a stupor as he stared at the blank screen.

It was no use. He’d been sitting here for over an hour now and still nothing. No inspiration. ...