Stories from a Rook: The First Ten · Story 10
Pip pushed a little railway carriage through the castle gate.
It rolled across the stage.
Past the tower.
Past the lantern.
And stopped against Rook’s foot.
Rook looked down.
“Have we arrived?”
“Once you move.”
Rook lifted his claw.
Pip guided the carriage into a tiny station, then placed a black cap on the desk.
Rook inspected it.
“An excellent hat.”
“It belongs to tonight’s stationmaster.”
“May I?”
“You’ll stretch it.”
Rook withdrew his beak and bowed.
“I’m going to tell you a story. Is it real or made up? You decide.”
He glanced at the cap.
“This concerns a stationmaster who never sold a ticket, never checked a timetable, and was promoted anyway.”
The station was called Kishi.
It stood on a small railway line in Japan, in Wakayama Prefecture.
The railway had faced difficult times.
It needed passengers.
And the stationmaster was a cat.
Pip stopped beside the carriage.
He looked at Rook.
Then at the hat.
“A cat.”
“A female calico cat named Tama.”
Pip picked up the cap again.
“Then it may be too large.”
Rook lowered himself along the battlements.
His wings rested close to his ribs.
His skull tilted.
Suddenly, without having changed a single bone, he seemed remarkably like a cat considering whether something deserved her attention.
Pip waited.
Rook slowly turned his head toward him.
Then away.
Pip folded his paws.
“That is convincing.”
Rook remained still.
“Are you going to continue?”
“Momentarily.”
Tama had lived near the station.
In January 2007, she was officially appointed stationmaster.
She wore a little railway cap.
Her work was to greet the people who came to see her.
Pip considered the tiny desk.
“Did they explain the duties?”
“I expect there was some understanding.”
“On both sides?”
Rook settled a little more comfortably.
Pip sighed.
“Yes. That is a cat.”
News spread.
People heard that a railway station had appointed a cat.
They wanted to see whether it was really so.
They bought tickets.
They took the train.
They arrived at Kishi.
And there was Tama.
Rook rose into the posture of a passenger approaching an information desk.
“‘Excuse me. I’m looking for the stationmaster.’”
He turned, becoming someone pointing.
Then he looked down.
And down a little farther.
“‘That stationmaster?’”
Rook settled onto the wall again.
He gave one slow blink.
Pip nodded.
“A clear answer.”
More visitors came.
Some brought cameras.
Some came from overseas.
Some were interested in trains.
Others were interested in a cat wearing a hat.
Pip straightened their little station sign.
“It would make a good photograph.”
“Indeed.”
“Provided she looked at the camera.”
Rook turned his head away.
Pip waited.
Rook glanced back.
Pip lifted an imaginary camera.
Rook turned away again.
The mouse lowered his paws.
“I see.”
The railway still needed people to do the railway work.
Drivers drove.
Staff maintained the trains.
People handled the practical arrangements.
“Tama didn’t operate signals?” Pip asked.
“No.”
“Good.”
“She gave people a reason to come.”
Rook became a traveler holding a ticket.
He studied the destination.
Then he smiled toward someone beside him.
“‘We could go and meet her.’”
He changed into a companion who had apparently heard this suggestion before.
“‘It is rather a journey for a cat.’”
The traveler considered.
“‘We’ve made longer journeys for less interesting company.’”
Pip looked up.
“Was that actually said?”
“That is how I would play the conversation.”
“Ah.”
Tama’s fame grew.
A year after her appointment, she was promoted to super stationmaster.
Pip slowly took off his spectacles.
He did not normally wear spectacles.
He had put them on for the occasion.
“Super.”
“Yes.”
“Stationmaster.”
“Yes.”
“What additional duties?”
Rook looked out at the audience.
He held the pose.
Pip put his spectacles back on.
“Greater responsibility for being a cat, presumably.”
In time, there was a train decorated in Tama’s honor.
There was also a new station building with a roof designed to suggest a cat’s face.
Pip looked toward their miniature station.
He disappeared beneath the stage.
Rook waited.
Pip returned with two little wooden ears.
He fitted them to the roof.
Rook studied the result.
“Very good.”
“Efficient scenery.”
“Do we have a train decorated with my face?”
“No.”
“A carriage?”
“No.”
“A modest luggage trolley?”
Pip pointed toward the banners hanging from the castle towers.
Rook looked at the bird emblems.
“Fair enough.”
“People talk about a cat helping revive a railway,” Rook said.
Pip watched the little carriage.
“Did she understand that?”
“We cannot ask her.”
“Did she understand that people were traveling to see her?”
“Perhaps she understood that people kept arriving.”
The mouse thought about that.
“Some performers would consider that sufficient.”
Rook inclined his skull.
“Some would.”
For a moment, the tiny station stood quiet beneath its lantern.
Pip placed the cap behind the desk.
“You haven’t said she performed a trick.”
“No.”
“Or rescued a passenger.”
“No.”
“Or somehow knew when a train was late.”
“No.”
“Just that she was there, and people wanted to meet her.”
“And that their visits mattered.”
Pip looked toward the painted railway.
“That is less grand than a miracle.”
“Does it need to be grand?”
The mouse gave the little carriage a careful push.
It rolled into the station.
“No,” he said.
Then Pip looked back.
“But a promotion to super stationmaster is a very grand detail.”
“It is.”
“And a train.”
“Yes.”
“And a building with ears.”
Rook looked at the little roof.
“An unusual employment history.”
Pip set his clipboard down.
“I can believe a railway company would enjoy the publicity. I can also believe you’d invent the entire thing because you wanted to play a cat.”
Rook lowered himself onto the battlements once more.
He tucked his wings in.
His skull settled comfortably.
Pip waited.
“Rook.”
One eye socket turned toward him.
“The question.”
Rook rose, unhurried, and faced the audience.
“Was Tama truly appointed stationmaster, given a cap, and celebrated by a railway? Or have I put an impressive title on an ordinary cat?”
He bowed.
“Real… or made up?”
Pip picked up the little cap.
Then he looked at the list of tasks still waiting beside the stage.
“Could we hire someone who likes carrying scenery?”
