The cat sat on the mat.

But the mat was no ordinary mat. It was the composite rubber surface of Dr. Snell’s bench. The bench itself had all the electrical earthings and static groundings necessary for the kind of work in which Snell was engaged.

The cat was no ordinary cat. Admittedly, Snell’s real-life feline companion, Tabby, also had only one eye – the awful outcome of an encounter with a larger and more belligerently-experienced male of the species. But FEL‑IX’s monocular vision was due to reluctance on Snell’s part to spend precious time on programming the mathematics of stereoscopy. He was convinced FEL-IX could perform well enough with a single visual instrument, and the invention's ability to move its head from side to side as it moved forwards or backwards provided a quasi binocular capability. Snell had often observed that this was how Tabby compensated for the loss of his left eye. His pet certainly was not lacking in the ability to catch shrews, mice, birds, and even young rabbits. It’s here though, that comparisons need to end, for FEL‑IX’s programmed quarry was of a very different kind.