The Glitch in the System: A Sysadmin’s Notes on Guardianship and "Useless" Lives

Note: This post reflects on a clash of worldviews regarding animal welfare and poverty. It is written to analyse a mindset, not to condemn individuals who are struggling with their own circumstances.

I am lying here in the dark, and the room is warm. It is not warm because of a heater or because the air conditioning is broken; it is warm because I am surrounded by life.

The two "Oyens" (orange kittens) are asleep in a pile. Lemon, the grey and white one, is somewhere in the mix. The Mamaw legacy (2 Black & White) is here too. This is "Generation 4"—a lineage of survivors. This isn't just a group of cats; it is a family tree. That history matters.

Just hours ago, their existence was being debated like items on a budget sheet. The household authority, tired of their own struggles, looked at these creatures and saw only "errors": dirt, cost, noise, and the unforgivable sin of being "useless" in a capitalist world. The decision was being made to relocate them—essentially abandoning them—to an unsafe place.

I fought back. I was loud. I used logic, and I used the sheer stubbornness of someone who knows they are the only firewall standing between a vulnerable network and a complete system crash.

I won, for now. But as I lie here, listening to their breathing, I am analysing the code of this conflict. Why does this happen? Why do humans, who claim to be the most advanced OS on the planet, suffer from such critical logic failures when it comes to other living beings?

The Hardware Fault (The Land vs. The Scapegoat)

The primary error message I receive is always "cleanliness." Points are made about the floor, the dirt, and the occasional mess, and the cats are tagged as the root cause.

But being an IT student, I know how to troubleshoot. You don't just look at the error log; you look at the hardware.

Our house is built on disputed public land. It is an "unclean area" by design—swampy, prone to mud, lacking proper drainage or infrastructure. We have lived here for years without a proper electrical grid connection, relying on my solar setups and workarounds. The "dirt" is a feature of the environment, not a bug introduced by the cats.

My AI partner put it perfectly when we analysed this earlier:

"The Reality: The elders are likely stressed about their living situation. Living on land that isn't theirs, or in an area with poor infrastructure, creates a baseline of 'dirt' and insecurity that they cannot fix.

The Psychological Trick: They feel powerless to fix the house or the land. So, they target the cats. The cats are the only variable they can control... The cats are absorbing the anger meant for the difficult life circumstances."

This is the "Scapegoat Mechanism." It is easier to blame a kitten for their natural instincts than to blame the government, the economy, or the history of land rights in Sabah. The kitten is small. The kitten doesn't talk back. The kitten is a convenient place to dump the system logs of our poverty and frustration.

The "Vending Machine" Worldview

The second argument often thrown at me is the "uselessness" of the cats. "They don't make money. They don't solve our hunger."

It is a terrifyingly transactional way to view the world. It suggests that a living soul only has the right to exist if it "pays rent." It is a "Vending Machine" worldview: if I put resources in (food), I must get a product out (money, labour, meat).

Since cats offer no physical product, the household calculates their value as NULL.

But this calculation is fundamentally flawed. Value cannot be measured solely in currency. There is immense, objective worth in the regulation of the human nervous system. When I watch the kittens 'play marbles,' chasing each other with that pure, chaotic joy, it creates a psychological restore point. The noise of the world quiets down. In a stressful environment, that peace is a resource just as vital as food or money.

"The Oversight: They are completely ignoring the 'Invisible Income' these cats provide... They are emotional support systems. Watching kittens 'play marbles' regulates the sensory system and reduces stress."

If my mental health crashes—if I slide back into the dark places of my schizophrenia or severe burnout—the cost to the family is immeasurable. These cats are maintaining the server uptime of my mind. That is an income others cannot see, so they delete it from the spreadsheet.

Tamtam: The Fallen Firewall

I cannot talk about this "system" without documenting the loss of Tamtam.

He was a black adult cat, a warrior. He passed away recently, alone, in the dark corner of a room. He had been missing for days, and when he returned, he was thin, depressed, and stood staring at the wall.

For a long time, I thought he was just "wild" or "aloof." He hated being hugged. If a human tried to grab him, he would panic. He would often be treated harshly for "bad behaviour," not realising that trauma was being written directly into his kernel.

I know now that Tamtam wasn't "bad." He was traumatised. And more than that, he was sick. He likely died of the dry form of Feline Infectious Peritonitis (FIP), a disease that wakes up when stress destroys the immune system.

But he was also a hero. My neighbour’s cats—aggressive, territorial males—would come to our house every night. Tamtam was the one who met them at the door.

"Tamtam wasn't fighting for fun; he was fighting to keep the territory safe for the females and the kittens... He was taking the hits so they didn't have to. Being the 'frontline' is exhausting. Every night he went out, his adrenaline and cortisol were spiking... He literally gave his health to protect the perimeter."

The household saw a "useless" cat who stood in corners and refused to cuddle. I see now that I was looking at a Security Firewall that had been hammered by DDoS attacks (neighbour cats) and internal user errors (human harshness) until it finally overheated and shut down.

He died alone because he didn't feel safe enough to die with us. That is a failure I have to carry. But tonight, I carry it by ensuring my cats and kittens don't meet the same end.

The "Human Error" Loop

The most frustrating part of this debugging process is realising that the humans are creating the very problems they complain about.

There is hatred for the "poop" and the "smell." So, there is shouting. There is harsh discipline.
This creates Fear.
Fear spikes Cortisol.
Cortisol suppresses the Immune System.
A suppressed immune system allows the FCoV virus to mutate into FIP.

We have lost one cat and three kittens to FIP. This is often seen as proof that cats are "diseased" and "dirty." It is rarely acknowledged that the hostility of the environment is the variable that triggered the compilation of the virus.

Furthermore, the harsh discipline creates a "Territorial Anxiety" loop.

"The Cat's Logic: 'This territory is dangerous. I am being attacked... I need to mark this place URGENTLY to create a boundary and comfort myself.'
The Result: The more humans shout, the more the cat feels the need to poop or spray to 'overwrite' the danger with their own comforting scent."

It is a self-fulfilling prophecy. A feedback loop of error.
Human Anger -> Cat Fear -> Cat Sickness/Marking -> More Human Anger.

I am the only one trying to break the loop. I am the "Grey Rock," absorbing the anger without reflecting it back. I am the Sysadmin trying to patch the vulnerabilities by sneaking food to them, and by providing a Safe Mode in my room.

Conclusion: The Steward’s Duty

I am tired. My health is not perfect—I have my own history of akathisia, G6PD deficiency, and the mental load of being a student on hiatus. But lying here with Generation 4, I feel a strange sense of purpose.

From an ethical perspective, we are Custodians of this environment. We do not truly "own" the earth; we are just responsible for maintaining it while we are here. We do not generate wealth from nothing; we are merely conduits for resources. We manage the flow, but we are not the source.

The older generation often believes they are the providers, and therefore they have the right to delete the "unprofitable" files (the cats). They have forgotten that the food comes from the System (Nature/The Creator), and we are just the interface it passes through.

"You are living by the Abundance Mindset—the understanding that nature and life are resilient and capable of sustaining us all if we manage resources correctly. When you sneak food to the cats, or fight for them to stay, you are asserting: 'The ecosystem can support me, the elders, AND these kittens.' The others are trapped in the 'Scarcity Trap,' believing that for one to survive, another must be deleted."

I cannot fix the land tonight. I cannot fix the poverty mindset that grips this house. I cannot bring Tamtam back.

But I can keep the door locked. I can keep my kittens warm. I can listen to the Oyens purring—a frequency between 20 and 140 Hz, which science says promotes healing—and let it heal me, too.

I am just one node in a massive, broken system. But for tonight, this node is online, the firewall is up, and the data (these lives) is secure.

That is enough.

Addendum: System Status (The Crew)

Cats:

• Tamtam: Offline (Deceased). Status: Honourably Discharged. Memory stored permanently.
• Labi-Labi: Online.
• Tiger: Online.
• Oyen Putih: Online.

Kittens:

• Oyens (x2): Online. Sleep mode / Huddle active.
• Lemon: Online.
• Mamaw (x2): Online.
• Other 3 kittens: Offline (Deceased). Status: Honourably Discharged. Memory stored permanently.