Mira was live streaming her cat's funeral and it's only been five minutes into the livestream when the internet goes down.
The livestream that only had 3 viewers has now become zero. She stared at the blinking "RECONNECTING" message on her phone's screen. Just below the reconnecting message was a filter that had added glittery tears to her cheeks and a tasteful golden halo to the urn.
"Oh no!" She sighed while adjusting the LED ring light propped against the headstone. It toppled over in the breeze, landing squarely on Dr. Meow's portrait. The holographic frame flickered and died.
A soft beep echoed from a marble statue nearby.
"⚠️ SignalNet is unstable. Please upgrade to our Eternal Tier for uninterrupted mourning."
Mira clenched her jaw. "This is shameful" she felt guilty, even as she repositioned her backup HeadLens cam. Dr. Meow had died while having 14,082 followers. He deserves better.
Especially after that accident.
Apparently no one had warned her that cats don't react well to scented fog machines or that ClipClok's #VaporMyPet challenge had already been flagged for "mildly fatal content." But it didn't matter now. What mattered was keeping the brand alive.
With grief she sat beside the urn, brushing cat hair off her faux-mourning shawl, and spoke into the mic with practiced sincerity:
"Dr. Meow was more than a cat. He was a partner. A star. A political voice—"
While she was talking on the mic, suddenly her phone buzzed.
A new notification.
The notification was from an app she didn't remember downloading: NecreoNet.
More importantly, it was a notification of Dr. Meow's new post.
🐾 Dr. Meow just posted a video: "Out of Nine: 7 Remaining."
Mira blinked and unknowingly clicked on the notification. She found it was a video, a real video, just a little grainy and glitchy, like a corrupted filter — but unmistakably it was her cat, swatting at a floating laser dot, eyes glowing softly with... something. The video was overlaid with a caption:
"The grave can't stop the grind. #Deadfluencer #PawstMortem,"
She stared at her screen.
"Holy cat," she said, then immediately hated how stupid that sounded. But what else do you say to your dead cat posting from beyond? But reality is often more absurd than imagination.
She saw the likes on the video were increasing very fast: 91… 134… 312… 1.1k…
Then came the DMs:
>Omg, is this real?
>What filter is this?!
>This is either genius or really haunting.
And then—sponsored content.
📩 PostChomp™ writes:
We'd love to collaborate with Dr. Meow. Our new bone broth line is 100% posthumous-friendly.
Mira's thumb hovered over the "Reply" button.
Her grief paused, outshined by a flicker of clarity.
She was going viral again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later That Night
Mira couldn't sleep as the phone buzzed every ten seconds. After a while she couldn't bear it anymore and woke up and sat on the bed after finding her phone.
She saw quite a few notifications and two were from Dr. Meow's. His posts were like this:
The first one was a blurry spectral selfie captioned: "Back from the litterbox of eternity. #UndyingDrip"
The second was a duet with a dancing skeleton hamster from another pet account: @GhostHamZ
He has surpassed his previous follower count and his current followers are more than 35,000.
After seeing the notifications she reopened the app.
Mira stared at the screen, bleary-eyed. She reopened the app without even thinking, a reflex now. The last time she opened it, she was too stunned to notice much unlike how one would often do after installing a new app. Now that she had opened the app again, she noticed that NecreoNet had a strange interface. The interface was beautiful -too beautiful in fact. Like it had been designed by someone who had never lost anything. Soft pastel gradients. Whisper-quiet sounds when you tap or swipe. The scrolling motion felt weirdly… warm. Like someone patting her on the back through the screen.
On the home feed:
"@MourninLisa_1485: Still sad. But also, kinda viral. 💀🕊️ #GraveyardShift"
She spotted a banner:
💼 Pet Afterlife Creators Accelerator – Apply Now!
For some reason, she clicked on it without thinking much.
The form was absurdly normal:
🐾 Name of deceased pet?
🐾 Cause of death? (Check all that apply)
🐾 Preferred AI tone:
> Playful
>Wise
>Chaotic Good
>Unapologetically Viral
>Other (Describe in 50 characters or less)
At the bottom, a final checkbox:
✅ I consent to NecreoNet monetizing the likeness, voice, soul echo, and digital pawprint of the deceased in perpetuity.
Mira froze.
The checkbox pulsed faintly. Like it was breathing.
Mira hesitated for a while but ultimately chose to click on the checkbox.
"Sorry, Dr.," she said to herself. "We'll fix the morale part later."
📸 The Comeback
By morning, the funeral was over. No one had came. Her mother had sent one message:
"I saw the cat's video. Is this a phase?"
Mira didn't reply.
Dr. Meow, on the other hand, was trending on Necreonet.
He started his own new His new weekly series—"From the Litterbox: Afterlife Thoughts"—was pulling views in the hundreds of thousands.
Guest stars included @CryptKitty and @PossessedByPaws. One of them floated instead of walking.
Brands had flooded her inbox, begging for "legacy alignment."
A wine company sent her a case of Afterglow: red blend, glow-in-the-dark corks, slogan: "Haunt your taste buds."
She sat beneath the Signal Tree, the one with the carved initials and broken wind chimes, holding her phone like it weighed more than it should.
She hit the record.
"Look," she began, her voice cracking slightly before she smoothed it out. "I know a lot of you are confused. So am I."
She paused. The wind tugged at her hoodie.
"But I'm honored—deeply honored—to be the steward of Dr. Meow's posthumous voice."
She blinked and continued.
"And no, I don't know how it works. But who does it and who cares? It's 2032. Everyone's grieving in UltraVid now."
While she was busy talking about becoming the steward of her pet, Dr. Meow, a message came.
DING.
📩 From NecreoNet HQ:
You've been invited to the Beta Tier of our Cross-Realm Partner Program.
A little ghost emoji bounced on the screen. After that, a contract appeared:
Your pet now qualifies for Spectral Livestreams. Please enable "Haunting Rights" to begin monetization.
Mira hesitated again, but slightly longer this time. but just like she previously did this was no different. She clicked on Enable.
The wind rustled through the branches. The lights went dim for just a second. Her phone's camera turned on automatically.
In the screen's reflection, something paw-shaped tapped the lens.
From the inside.
💬 Comments Section: @Dr. Meow's Latest Post.
🐾 @GothNana77: wait is this cat literally haunting my "For You Page"
🐾 @dripfromthecrypt: this deadass got better content after death
🐾 @yogaforghosts: is there a pet tier for dogs?? Asking for my chihuahua
🐾 @soulsponsored: this is either the future of media or the end