" When you smell that, how do you... how do you process that? Is it just a list of chemicals?' 'I'm not sure. I'll find out.' Sidra took the tin, manoeuvred it to the kit's nose, and pulled in air. The image was there without warning, leaping to the front of all other external input - a sleeping cat, sprawled on its back in a puddle of sunlight, fur mussed, pink toes splayed sweetly - then gone, just as fast. "