Some scientists argue that stray mixed breeds make wonderful research creatures. These living beings can endure extreme cold, famine and isolation. With her earthbound body and intricate mesh of ancestral roots, a would-be cosmic mongrel is naturally expected to use all the force within her body and mind to overcome gravity. Or the force will be used against her. F for force.

Throughout history, there have been some remarkable females who managed to break the G-orbit and gain universal visibility. Take American Sunita Williams. The first woman to cut off her long dark hair in space. The first female astronaut to take long spacewalks, with a mere cord attached to her navel. And the only person ever to have done the Boston Marathon in four hours in free fall circumstances, bungee-strapped. She did retain her earthly focus; she would eat wasabi sauce with Carniolan sausages to reconnect with her roots. She had the force, she had the focus. She had a pair of feet. F for focus.

No such luck with Laika. Harnessed and confined to a constricted space on the verge of cosmic space she was unable to walk or run. Yet she would fly, float and fly for four days in the end. Had she hooked up to her polar husky roots, she might have managed to withstand the overheating of her cosy capsule. She did not perish choking on a cord or due to oxygen starvation. She went up in flames. F for flames. Phlegmatic, too; she was said to have a »quiet and charming« personality. The tearful groundcrew had kissed her nose goodbye, before she was strapped inside the cabin. Would it have worked out for her with a more fiery temperament and a directed focus?

There is one written record of yet another female in the history of space-borne creatures. She lived towards the end of the first century AD. She was not a human, she was not a canine. She was a cat. A black stray feline with green eyes, two jades blipping in the dark recesses of my fuzzy mind. She seemed to have been waiting for me as I passed the Fluvium Frigidum on my way from Noricum. I realized soon she was following me, always a stone's throw away from me. I was bound for Rome, where I would be trained to become the multiple winner at the Amphitheatrum Flavium. There they called me Primus Cosmus, the Jaculator, and I called her My Green-Eyed Catus, the Felis. F for Felis.

As I think of her now in hindsight, I may say I loved her. Once I gave her a fibula with garnet cloisonné inlay. I attached it to her fleece-lined blanket. I did not know what to say to her, so I said: »Felicity, will this be your safety pin, or what?« She seemed moved. We never spoke much. She would utter one or two telling mews a day, I would sometimes moan for my sore muscles. I trained from morning to night. During the time she would sit at a safe distance at the Ludus Magnus and train her focused look on me. F for my darling little Felicity.

During my workout I often glanced at Felicity, wondering about the difference between a scientist, a sportsman, a gladiator, a slave, and my cat. What was the relation between one's exercise and one's identity. Were these experiments and attempts just a preliminary phase to something. When did you start living. When were you borne. Launching a rocket, a spear, a hammer. Making a breakthrough, hitting the target or a new record. I glanced at Felicity and she had an air of understanding the issue. Seemingly just sitting there, waiting for something to happen. Fission or Fusion was the message I gathered from her steady look. Fission or Fusion I would chant to myself as I spun round and round on my spot.

It was supposed to be just another munus gladiatorium at the Colosseum that day. As a hammer hurler of considerable repute, I had been given the privilege of starting the ludus meridianus by throwing my hammer at one of the damned creatures scurrying the arena. I had a different plan for that day though. My idea, my aim was to hit the ultimate 83.0 m mark on the arena's ground. With or without hitting any one non-entity running to the safety of the orbital far end.

It had been just another morning. Taking her small paw with the warm fur around the cold pads into my big hand, I had kissed Felicity's nose, and she had given me that focused green Fission-or-Fusion look. I never took her with me for fear of someone mistaking her for a beast and killing her during the venationes. But as I started spinning on my spot, and the people cheered me on, I caught a glimpse of her just outside my circle. The next moment she jumped up and got hold of the ball. I looked at her, 'What are you doing here, Felis?' She looked at me, 'Fission or Fusion?' 'Stop it.' 'Fission or Fusion?'

I remember the glimmer of the two jades in her eyes and of the garnet between her teeth. 'Fission or Fusion?' We remained focused on each other as I started gaining velocity. A cloud of air was building up around us. I was losing my ground. I knew what I had to do. While being focused on her, I let go the hammer and sent her into thin air through the hole in the awning. All the Romans could see was a white cloud and a tiny blast and then nothing. The Romans thought it was a miracle and granted me freedom for my performance. Fission or Fusion, I do not know. I cannot retrieve her body anywhere now but keep seeing the jades and the garnet in my mind. What is the F going to stand for this time. Trust?

Jupiter! Silvana Orel Kos