The bureau’s six employees had been asked to gather in reception at four o’clock for a group photograph. By half past four, the photographer and three human attendants were ready, but none of the cats had arrived.
They were not far away. The bureau occupied a converted harbour records building, with an archive, delivery room, library, greenhouse and map room arranged around one courtyard. An old lighthouse tower rose from the seaward wing. Each cat had a separate department within the complex; human attendants kept their records and handled practical matters that did not interest them.
Every occupation had grown from something its employee already considered worth doing. Gathering for an official portrait had not.
The photographer began with the eastern archive, where the Sunbeam Cartographer worked from dawn until the bright patch left the floor. Her task was to record the annual movement of sunlight across the room. Nobody had taught her the method. She simply lay in the warmest place while her attendant traced the position of her paws.
The accumulated outlines showed when a new building blocked the morning sun, when a tree outside needed pruning and which shelves received too much light for fragile paper. The cartographer regarded these findings as a side effect. Her professional concern was warmth.
At four thirty-five, she was stretched across the final narrow strip beside a cabinet. Removing her would leave the day’s record incomplete. The photographer took a picture of one ear and continued downstairs.
The Box-Quality Controller occupied the delivery room. Every carton entering the bureau had to survive three tests: sitting, turning around and an abrupt sideways leap at something nobody else could see. Boxes that collapsed were rejected. Boxes that remained rigid were approved. Boxes that proved especially comfortable entered a category called RETAINED FOR FURTHER ASSESSMENT and were rarely seen again.
The controller had received the photographer’s equipment case forty minutes earlier. She was asleep inside it. The spare lenses and flash cables had been arranged outside in a neat, accusatory pile.
Two employees were now documented, but neither was facing the camera.
The Library Return Warmer was easier to locate. She sat in the returns basket, warming a book on municipal fountains. Her work began as a practical response to damp volumes: a cold or wet binding made her uncomfortable, so she refused to settle on it. Librarians learned to inspect every book she rejected.
Over time, the job expanded. She warmed stiff glue, flattened curled covers and prevented her attendants from shelving anything currently suitable for sitting. Her decisions were mostly sound. The only known dispute involved a perfectly dry atlas that remained under review for eleven weeks.
The fountain book was ready to shelve. The warmer was not ready to move.
Across the courtyard, the Greenhouse Seed Counter worked beside trays prepared for the public gardens. Seeds passed before her in shallow wooden channels. Most rolled straight into labelled drawers. A hollow seed, a damp seed or one occupied by a beetle moved differently, and the counter stopped it with one paw.
She was accurate when she felt like being accurate. On energetic afternoons she stopped every seed, including the healthy ones, and the gardeners suspended counting until after her nap. The bureau classified this not as misconduct but as an unscheduled full inspection.
When the photographer arrived, a single nasturtium seed escaped its channel. The counter followed it beneath the potting bench. The photographer captured the tip of a tail disappearing into shadow.
The fifth employee lived in the old lighthouse tower above the seaward wing. The Lens Watcher spent evenings beside the rotating lamp, following its beam across the dark glass. Moths could leave dust on the lens and briefly distort the signal. She intercepted them first, combining public safety with one of her strongest private interests.
During the day she slept in the tower attendant’s coat cupboard and refused to descend three flights for a photograph. Her attendant had sent one instead: two bright eyes, one raised paw and a moth leaving the frame at speed.
The photographer now had five pictures of five jobs, but still nothing resembling a group portrait.
The sixth employee was the Assistant Keeper of Maps. Her desk stood in reception, although she had never used it. She worked wherever a map had just been unfolded. If two attendants needed the same street plan, she sat on the disputed district. If a surveyor searched for a boundary, her tail covered the scale. When a map was no longer required, she lost interest immediately.
The bureau claimed that this prevented hurried decisions. Her attendants suspected that she merely recognised the exact sheet of paper a person needed next. Both explanations produced the same administrative delay.
At five fifteen, she was nowhere near reception.
The photographer began packing. She tried returning her cables to the equipment case, but the Box-Quality Controller had retained it. An attendant offered her a replacement carton from the delivery room and set it on the reception table.
The new box had six desirable features: a clean interior, high sides, a loose flap, the smell of paper, room for one cat and insufficient room for any second cat. The Box-Quality Controller arrived before the attendant removed his hands.
To protect the table, another attendant slid an old street map beneath the carton. The Assistant Keeper of Maps appeared from behind a filing cabinet and occupied the uncovered half.
At that moment the late sun reached reception. The Sunbeam Cartographer followed it through the doorway and settled against the map keeper’s back. A returned book, still warm from the library, was placed beside them. The Library Return Warmer climbed onto it without invitation.
The greenhouse door opened. A nasturtium seed rolled across the floor, pursued by the Seed Counter. It struck the box and stopped.
The four cats looked down. The cat inside the box looked out. For nearly three seconds, all five remained still.
Then a small moth emerged from the photographer’s folded backdrop and settled on the first step of the tower stair.
The Lens Watcher appeared on the landing above, saw it and bounded down. The room erupted. She landed on the table as her five colleagues crossed it in five different directions. The photographer pressed the shutter once.
