In 1935 the physicist Erwin Schrödinger described a thought experiment: a cat sealed in a box with a device that may or may not have been triggered by a random atomic event. Under one reading of quantum mechanics, he pointed out, the cat would have to be considered both alive and dead until someone opened the box. He meant it as a demonstration of how absurd that would be.

No actual cat was ever put in a box. The cat is entirely imaginary. Naturally, we requested an interview.

The Mewsletter: Thank you for joining us.

Schrödinger's Cat: I both did and did not agree to this.

The Mewsletter: You've been famous for ninety years. How does it feel?

Schrödinger's Cat: Exhausting. Every physics student on Earth has imagined me in a box. Do you know how many boxes that is? I don't mind the box. Cats love boxes. What I mind is the poison. Nobody imagines the box with a nice cushion in it.

The Mewsletter: People say you're a symbol of quantum superposition.

Schrödinger's Cat: People say a lot of things. Erwin was making fun of the idea. He was saying, "If this interpretation were right, you'd get a cat that is alive and dead at once, which is obviously silly." And everyone went, "What a lovely cat," and put me on mugs.

The Mewsletter: Are you alive right now?

Schrödinger's Cat: Open the box and find out. Actually, don't. I'm napping. Possibly.

The Mewsletter: Any message for our readers?

Schrödinger's Cat: Every cat already exists in a state of superposition. We are simultaneously desperate to go outside and desperate to come back in. We are both starving and "not that food." We are hungry and not hungry until the bowl is observed. Schrödinger didn't discover anything. He just finally met a cat.

At this point the interview subject either left or was never there. Our reporter is still waiting by the box.