Cam catches a summons while he's in the middle of Atriama. He's seen it before, it's fine.
Cam comes inside. "Hey, to prove to your human that I can talk to you, can you tell me something only you and she would know? Or are there any questions you want to ask her?" he asks Mr. Mistoffelees.
Inside has a dimly-lit hallway and a flight of stairs with traction treads rather than a proper home interior.
"Why did she lie to me about her name?" Mr. Mistoffelees supplies immediately. ". . . And the day she took me home she tried to put me in a bright green collar and I hated it, I tore it to shreds."
"She wants to know why you lied to her about your name - to clarify she was referring to you as 'Mom' - and she says the day you took her home you tried to put her in a bright green collar which she hated and tore to shreds."
". . . Because I wasn't planning on parenthood but once I found myself there it seemed important to treat it like what it was instead of pretending it was something else? But she can call me Ellie if she wants. So can you; it's my name."
"Nice to meet you, Ellie." To Mr. Mistoffelees: "She says her name is Ellie. I think it's okay with her if you go on calling her Mom though, human kids call their moms that."
"I'm almost four months old; that's basically grown up."
"It isn't for humans, and I'm a hundred and seventy two years old and still call my mom Mom."
"That's so slow. Anyways come upstairs and give me my thing." She scampers up a few steps. "Or I guess just give it to Ellie if she's big enough to carry it."
"She is." He offers the device to Ellie. "She can learn to read, and write, and this is adapted for paws."
"What the edge. - Uh, thank you. Sir."
"My name is Cam."
"Thank you, Sir Cam. I have - probably obvious questions - "
"I am an immortal winged being from another universe who can talk to cats, bring the dead to life but not all that well yet, and create arbitrary material objects inspired by the much higher tech level of my home."
"Stots. Uh. Cool. - Multiple cats, it's not just her?"
"There's a population hereabouts and another in Chelford. Plus any that have gotten farther afield."
"Okay. What does it mean to be able to bring the dead to life but not all that well yet? If I'm allowed to ask."
"I have only done it once, the deceased had some complaints about the process, I don't know how I'd do cats though I'm not completely despairing about it, I don't have any idea about the prognosis for already-merged stars."
"Okay. If it's not disrespectful of your time, sir, do you want to come into my apartment instead of loitering in the foyer? It's, uh, not a very good apartment but. Yeah."
"You don't have to call me sir, Cam is fine. And yeah, assuming you have additional questions I should probably explain whatever you have them about."
"Sure, sorry, I just didn't know how people from other universes would expect slaves to act." She starts up the stairs, following Mr. Mistoffellees.
"Would expect who what now!"
"S . . . laves?"
"Is there a good reason for me not to inquire of the address of whoever you belong to, meet their asking price, and then go around doing that for everybody else I can get to before the gold market craters. For anti-slavery purposes, to be clear. I'm against it."
" - Oh. Uh, probably. I in particular belong to the state, so I think there might be something more complicated going on there? I don't know about privately-owned people, and I guess markets cratering sounds - kind of super bad but I don't know much about that either."
Here is her apartment; the paint on the door is chipped but things are pretty much clean inside except for a desk with all sorts of papers and craft supplies spilling off the sides; there's a sewing machine sitting on the floor next to it with sequinsy black fabric still presser-footed in and a couple boxes of popsicle sticks set on top with some bolts and nuts and a craft knife set on top of those. Ellie locks the door behind Cam and sits in a beanbag chair facing the room's futon; Mr. Mistoffellees hops up to perch on one of her knees.
"I wouldn't do it without a very strong reason but, you know, if you want to end material scarcity you wind up breaking a few eggs. It is so bizarre how much this looks, superficially, like my planet when I was in my twenties, and then, surprise, slavery, talking cats, stars are dead people, world is flat, Roman Empire, birthday personalities, Jesus is alive and well."