Milo Moon: It Never Happened (6 page)

‘Okay.’

‘By the way. Do you like Wednesdays, Michael?’

‘No, the worst day of the week for me usually, why?’

‘Well, at least we have one thing in common.’

Hilda’s car was still parked in the same place as she had parked it when they arrived. He wondered why she had decided to introduce herself as Hilda this time around instead of Miss Harpinger. Maybe she felt she knew him better after a few hours. He recognised the route she took and was not that surprised when they finally arrived at the intersection with Brown Street. Instead of turning into Brown Street however, she drove straight on, before turning right into Regal Street. He could see the light on in his apartment.

Hilda pulled up in front of his apartment. She handed him her business card. ‘If you need anything, just call. Right, Michael?’

‘Right, okay, will do. But hopefully I’ll be fine. The nurse made an appointment for me for next week for a follow-up check,’ he said, as he opened the car door.

‘Good then, well, have a nice evening then.’

‘Thank you for the lift.’

‘Milo.’

‘Yes, Michael.’

‘So, you’re still here.’

‘Seems so.’

‘Do you have any idea why we are sharing my body?’

‘Not really. It’s been a very weird day for me so far. It started with a semi-transparent man interrupting my breakfast. Then it just got weirder from then on. What about you? How’s your day been?’

‘I have no idea, Milo. Last thing I remember was having breakfast with Claire yesterday morning, going to work, and then a blank until about thirty minutes ago.’

‘Who’s Claire?’

‘Our wife.’

‘Right, Michael, this could get a bit tricky.’

They walked up the stairs and Michael suddenly remembered the house key was in his trouser pocket. Claire gave him a big hug when he entered the apartment, and hugged him tightly.

‘Oh my darling, I was so worried about you.’

‘Well it really wasn’t a great way to celebrate my birthday.’

‘Oh, you silly Billy, your birthday isn’t for another six months.’

‘Oh yeah.’

‘Don’t worry darling. Hilda told me you might be a little disoriented after your treatment. You’ll be fine by morning I’m sure. Are you hungry?’

‘No, not really. I seem to remember eating a pizza at some stage earlier this evening.’

‘I’ll get you a nice warm mug of milk, my darling. Go and sit down and I’ll get it for you.’

Milo sat on the sofa. It was very large, comfortable and except for being covered in green velvet, it was quite a nice sofa in his estimation. He watched as Claire went to the kitchen. She was slim, attractive, blonde and cute. She passed a small dining room with a table and four chairs. All in all, and all things considered, his Wednesday hadn’t ended too badly after all. After his milk, a little idle chat, he and Claire went to bed. His Wednesday and birthday then finished way, way above any possible expectations he could have ever had. He then slept remarkable well.

Chapter 6 - Claire And The Cat

Milo couldn’t take his eyes off Claire, as they ate breakfast. The Michael in him wasn’t as impressed, but Milo was enchanted. Claire’s bright blue eyes, straight blonde shoulder length hair and almost perpetual smile, was as close to perfection as he had ever seen. She was dressed in her navy blue uniform and white blouse ready for work. They finished their breakfast in silence.

‘Well, we’d better be off then, Michael,’ Claire said sweetly.

‘Yes, look at the time,’ Michael replied.

They got their jackets and left together. They walked two blocks, kissed each other and then went in opposite directions to work. Claire happy and content that her Michael was reasonably well after his accident; a little disoriented as Hilda had told her, but all things considered, she was just happy that he was home.

Milo had more on his mind. Two minds in fact. He was thinking like Milo and Michael at the same time. He had the memories of both. He was sure this wasn’t right. For the time being though, he couldn’t think of anything better to do than to just go along and see what happened. Claire was certainly a bonus as far as he was concerned. He had never experienced anything as wonderful as her. Where Michael had affection for Claire, Milo lusted for more of her in their bed.

His route to work took him along Brown Street. He paused as he passed his old flat, and then thought it better to keep moving. As he turned to set off again, he felt the familiar feel of Cindy rubbing against his leg.

‘Oh I don’t think you should do that,’ he said. ‘You’d better get back upstairs.’

With that, the cat gave Milo’s leg one more rub, and then slowly walked off to the front door of the building. His tail, wafting from side to side. Milo thought about his cat as he continued to work. The new Milo should know everything he knew, so he would take good care of Cindy.

‘Morning Michael, feeling better?’

‘Thanks Ronald. Just fine I think.’

‘You had us a bit worried yesterday.’

‘No. Honestly. I feel fine,’ Michael insisted.

‘All right, go get suited up then, and you can get to work.’

‘Thanks. Do we still have that leak in D sector?’

‘Yep. Still not right. If you could give Max and Nicolas a hand it would help.’

‘Yes, will do.’

Milo let Michael take over for the day, and easily handled all his tasks. He had relined a large duct intake manifold and had managed to successfully stop the leak that had been causing re-oxygenated air to be contaminated by an exhaust duct that ran alongside. He’d had to cover some distance to locate the problem manifold, and it had taken him over two hours to return to central control. He left work just a little later than normal, but knew Claire was well used to him being a little late from time to time.

Milo resurfaced in his thinking as he walked down Brown Street again, on his way home. He thought about his cat and hoped he was well fed by this time. Probably having a nap. As he turned out of Brown Street, Milo started to think about Claire. He wanted her again later tonight.

Michael arrived home to a warm hug and a kiss from Claire, who was preparing dinner. They exchanged their little stories of their days at work, before sitting down to dinner. Michael in full control of the conversation over dinner, and the quiet time later with Claire on the sofa watching a movie. They went to bed just after ten-thirty, and Milo took over.

‘Oh Michael!’ Claire said breathlessly. ‘Did they give you extra vitamins while you were in hospital?’

Michael returned to the ARC Processing Centre for his check-up the next week. All was in order. He was surprised that his visit was so brief. Just a few questions from a nurse at reception about Michael, which he answered and he was finished. No mention of Milo at all.

‘Looks like we are stuck with each other then, Milo.’

‘Well, you could have told the nurse that there was a problem.’

‘Yes. But then what would’ve happened? We both would’ve been wiped and replaced with another life force.’

‘Well, if you don’t mind, I have no complaints. So long as you don’t mind me enjoying your, or is she our wife?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s only one body we have, so I suppose it’s okay. She is a pretty little thing though, isn’t she?’

‘Great minds think alike Michael.’

‘Oh dear Milo!’

The days and weeks passed by, and Milo and Michael found a balance of work, life and passion as they shared a single body. Milo being the more passive and immature, except for his passion for Claire. Michael taking control of work and being very friendly, sociable and pleasantly polite. They both knew that there had been a mistake made, but as nothing had come of it, they were both happy to leave things be. They could both take advantage of sharing a formyon existence. Milo saw Cindy most days, so he felt he could ask for no more. He had seen the new Milo on two occasions. Seemed a nice enough fellow. Always dressed very smartly. He had never tried to recover his
‘Joe Your Friendly Neighbourhood Butcher’
calendar. There didn’t seem any need now that he had Claire.

Claire was sleeping peacefully alongside Milo. He couldn’t sleep. Both he and Michael were searching their memories. Trying to find similarities and beginnings. The best either could do was to remember vague notions of memories that weren’t any more than a few months old. Milo couldn’t recall exactly when and how he got his cat. Michael couldn’t remember exactly when or how he and Claire had come to be together. Michael couldn’t remember not being in this formyon body. But Milo could. Milo could remember not being able to see behind himself. Michael couldn’t.

They both fell asleep finally, as they tried in vain to find answers. This was hardly surprising, as they both had no idea of what questions to ask. They didn’t know that there were others, who did know what the questions were. When they made that discovery, it would be clearer why Milo and Michael were sharing their existence.

Chapter 7 - Keeping Secrets

A quarter or so of his
‘Joe Your Friendly Neighbourhood Butcher’
calendar was sticking out from the top of a garbage container in front of Milo’s old flat in Brown Street. He was stunned to see it so long after having become Michael. He looked at it a little closer. There was some writing on the bottom corner, just under the 30th of June.

‘
You can see, and be seen. Later. ‘E’.
’

Milo re-read the note, but didn’t take the calendar from the container. It was clearly left for him to notice on his way to work. No one other than Milo would have recognised the calendar, so the message was definitely for him. He started walking away sensing that he and Michael shouldn’t stay. However he immediately started to process the message. It must refer to his third eye. That was logical. A monitor. Of what though? And ‘E’. Who or what was ‘E’? Milo was almost at the gates of his control centre when he suddenly understood. Smithe with an ‘E’! George Smithe. The question that suddenly became very obvious was whether George had realised his mistake, or had he intentionally made one? It gave both Milo and Michael food for thought for the day.

‘So, who is George then, Milo?’

‘He’s the semi-transparent man, who disturbed my breakfast and then had me transferred to your body.’

‘Oh, that one. So, why is he contacting you?’

‘I’ve got no idea. Maybe he wants to correct his mistake.’

‘What mistake?’

‘Us Michael. Us!’

‘Right. So what should we do?’

‘I don’t know really. Wait and see I suppose.’

There was no further contact from ‘E’ for some weeks. Milo had almost given up on hearing any more. He had considered that if George had in fact been responsible for him and Michael sharing an existence, he may well have been discovered or disciplined. He recalled how Hilda had commented at the hospital that George had made a number of errors recently. He could only hope that he and Michael could continue, as they were both quite content with the arrangement. They enjoyed the opportunity to share and compare what memories they had. Both had heard of the word brother, but as no one had one, it was really only a fantasy concept. For Milo and Michael, they thought they had found something akin to the concept.

Michael arrived at work and went to his locker to suit up for his day. He noticed a Ping-Pong ball on the top shelf. He picked it up and looked at it. There were some very small letters written in a grey, and only just visible.
D23b ‘E’
.

‘Do you understand, Michael?’

‘Yes, it means whoever put the ball here wants me to go to D Sector, junction 23, filtration cap b.’

‘It must be George again.’

‘I suppose we’ll find out if we can get there, Milo.’

It was late in the afternoon before Michael could go to D Sector. He had been assigned to routine maintenance in A Sector for most of the morning and used the excuse of wanting to double check on the work he had done a few weeks before to the intake manifold in D Sector. His supervisor agreed immediately, concluding that Michael was very conscientious about his work. He moved along past the manifold, some two hundred meters to reach junction 23. There were eight filtration caps in two rows of four. The caps were about six inches in diameter. He couldn’t see anything unusual, such as a note as he had expected. The filtration caps screwed onto a housing that held a filter, so Michael slowly unscrewed the second filtration cap on the top row. When he removed the cap, a small object fell to the floor of the duct. It was a small plastic tube about an inch long, sealed at both ends. He picked it up and saw a small roll of what looked like paper and removed it carefully from the tube. Recognising it immediately as actonical tempersite, a plastic film that dissolves after exposure to oxygen. It was used for temporary surgical dressings, and confidential correspondence among other uses. Michael used it himself from time to time to secure duct joints to give the applied adhesive time to set. He understood that when he had finished he would place it in filtration cap a, as that was delivering pure oxygen and cap b was absorbing carbon dioxide.

Michael sat down on the duct floor and started to unroll the actonical tempersite. He read the note.