Thing about a cat’s eye is it sees in darkness. Not the pitch black of coal mines or a politician’s soul, but places where a human being would stand blinking and wondering which way to the egress. The very bad Dr. Bryukhonenko had built a neural jumper block so the input from the cat’s eyes jammed swollen and dry into Topper’s skull could be made sensible—sense-in-light for a man who lives in the endless nonsense of his own head.
— Rolling Steel: A Pre-Apocalyptic Love Story
Jim led the way into the foul-smelling darkness. He must have had eyes like a cat because he walked silently and surely while I stumbled and crashed into things.
“I have eyes like a cat,” he said. “That is because I take cat-eye injections once a week. Fine for the vision.”
“But a little hard on the cats.”
“I have eyes like a cat,” he said. “That is because I take cat-eye injections once a week. Fine for the vision.”
“But a little hard on the cats.”
"Titan receives much less light than Earth. By multiplying the rod cells by up to eight times, we change the aperture of the eye to more closely resemble those of a feline, allowing you to see through the darkness."
— Professor Collingwood, The Titan
