Arthur didn't continue the conversation with the monk after that. The monk himself looked perfectly content with the silence. Almost as if his chatty personality before was an illusion. A few hours later, there was an announcement that the train had reached Whitewood.

This was Arthur's stop. Standing up, he prepared to disembark.

So did the monk.

“It looks as though we share the same destination,” the monk said.

“Ah, yeah. I’m just stopping here for a few days. Got a job interview,” Arthur told the monk. Inwardly he thought, 'No need to give him any ideas.'

The monk smiled. Pausing, he continued, “We will meet again if fate wills it. Good day.”

“You too,” replied Arthur with a curt nod. Not wanting to delay further, he turned towards the exit of the compartment, missing the pondering look on the monk’s face.

***

Arthur departed the station after collecting his luggage from the provided compartment. It had only been a few weeks since he last left Whitewood. Prior to that, he was away for many years due to his studies in university. A long time had passed, but the scenery remained almost exactly as he remembered.

Whitewood was largely described by its own residents as a haven from the hubbub of the bigger cities on the moon. The archaic buildings were an amazing sight to see for many. Especially the old European architecture.

Some may even think the little town had stopped in time. Or it had somehow magically teleported to the moon from one corner of the European dark ages. The feeling was only compounded by the large number of senior citizens living in town, many of whom dressed the part.

But they would be surprised by how much cutting-edge technology was used to create and maintain such an antique townscape.

The town itself was largely split into two main areas, encompassing a total of 5 regions. The North, South, East, and Central regions all consisted of the more modern parts of town. They were home to the town's industries, offices, entertainment centers, and other such establishments.

The West region was the original one. It was once called the 31st Secondary Lunar Base. But they had since removed the base, right after the dome was successfully constructed. Town essentials had required quite a bit of space.

It was now called the Old Suburbs. That’s where Arthur grew up. His home was one of the westernmost residences, situated on West Orchard Street. It bordered the currently abandoned lunar orchard, which had gradually transformed into a small forest, a few thousand acres in area.

The train station was located at the junction of the Western and Southern part of town. So, Arthur opted to just walk back rather than hailing an auto-shuttle.

The last few times he left this place, he'd thought he would be leaving for good. He had thought he would reach his retirement age elsewhere. That he would only visit Whitewood on special occasions, such as New Years or checking up on his property.

But here he was, returning to his roots. Again.

The scenery he passed triggered some rather unexpected nostalgia.

Arthur had many memories of the place. Good and bad, but mostly good. He didn’t have many close friends who still lived here, since those in his age group had mostly moved on to bigger cities. Some to pursue a better future; some, to escape the inertia of this old moontown.

He wasn’t forgotten though. Every old couple around the neighborhood still remembered the naughty little rascal called Arthur Tullett. The whippersnapper who became best friends with all the stray cats and dogs. According to one grandpa who owned a fish store, his antics were outrageous enough to be recorded in the town's history books.

‘I never actually kept a pet though.’

The story of how there came to be colonies of stray cats and dogs in the moontowns was a strange one. It happened long before Arthur was even born. According to what he'd heard, their lineage predated back to when the moontowns were still just bases. They were descendants of pets the very first settlers brought along. Many of these pets outlived their owners, simply because of how dangerous the business of pioneering truly was, especially right after the war.

After becoming full-fledged towns, the neighbourhood councils of the various settlements didn’t get rid of the descendants of their pets. They even built stray shelters in every region, just for them. It should also be noted that these cats and dogs were strays, but by no means feral.

Compared to most places on Earth, strays on the moon were well-fed and housed.

In other words, the whole lot was semi-adopted by their respective moontowns. By all accounts, having a few stray cats and dogs living with their society gave the towns a more earth-like, authentic feeling, which was highly endorsed by the Lunar Cultural Department.

He even spotted a few elderly people feeding the strays as he slowly made his way home.

‘This place… really doesn’t change.’

The trees, the white streets, the seniors practicing yoga and tai chi dances in the park, the groups of monks and priests loitering around the alleys. All of it was the same rhythm that he'd left.

‘Wait a goddamn minute!’ Arthur quickly double checked.

Yes, there they were again!

He spotted a group of three bizarrely dressed monks, followed by a duo of men in black Christian robes, entering one of the alleyways. These monks were dressed slightly differently than the gentleman he met on the train. They wore grey and white garments instead of orange and brown. They also seemed to be working together with the duo in black.

‘Ugh… are these guys having some kind of religious convention in town?’

If Arthur recalled correctly, religion wasn’t a big thing on Luna. People still built churches, mosques, pagodas, and temples. However, very few people faithfully practiced their religion. It was simply another slice of old era culture for them.

So why were so many seemingly religious personnel gathering here?

Arthur took no chances. He started walking faster, his pace nearing that of a jog. He had no desire to get involved with whatever weird cults or religion these people belonged to.

So, after about 20 minutes of hurrying, Arthur finally reached home. Along the way he saw 3 more different teams of monks and priests, and one particularly eye-catching group of strangers cosplaying as a team of adventurers straight out of an old JRPG. Two of those groups were even having a rap battle in the middle of the street. At least, that’s what it looked like to Arthur, judging by how much they were yelling at each other’s moms and ancestors.

Arthur was pretty sure he saw a team of local news reporters in the vicinity too. There was something fishy going on in town, and he wanted nothing to do with it!

All he wanted was to go home without incident, lie down in bed, and have a good night’s sleep. The moon might have a 2-week day and night cycle, but the body still had a natural rhythm that demanded to be followed. Besides, the dome emulated a 12 hour day and night cycle perfectly.

***

The old home was built like a ryokan, or a traditional Japanese inn. The interior, however, was a blend of both western and eastern styles. The whole residence was situated inside a walled area, with a 2-structure gate located beside the main road, serving as the entrance to the front yard.

After a quick scan of his palm, the automatic gates opened.

...and a bunch of stray cats ran out hissing. Following after them was a fat orange tabby lazily waddling out. It gave Arthur a disdainful look, scratched his shadow for a bit, then sauntered away.

Arthur released the fist that he had subconsciously clenched.

“Cats...”

It seemed a clowder of stray cats had trespassed into the yard while he was away. He wanted to blame someone, but then he remembered it was his own fault.

Well...the security system was pretty dated. But Arthur himself might’ve changed the protocols to include stray cats and dogs as ‘friendly’.

He even remembered that fat orange tabby. It was the 2nd in command of the local stray cats around this area.

The dilapidated doors of the main building were a chore to open, since they were mechanical in nature rather than electronic. Thankfully, the lights automatically turned on as Arthur entered.

And another group of stray cats ran out hissing.

“This is bad for my heart,” grumbled Arthur as he tried not to huff.

Not all the cats left though. There was one gray and white stray feline which had claimed the shoe shelf. It stated at Arthur with its sapphire eyes, rhythmically twitching its tail.

‘This won’t do,’ thought Arthur. He had plans to rent out the rooms. And having stray cats living in his house, coming and going as they pleased, would be detrimental for obvious reasons. Arthur made a mental note to update the security protocols later that day.

The cats seemed to have behaved though, as the place didn’t look like it was blitzkrieged by an army of strays. For some reason though, the ventilation had failed. Arthur noticed a thin layer of dust coating the place, paw prints tracked helter-skelter over every flat surface.

There was still daylight (or rather, sun-light) remaining. Arthur supposed had nothing better to do at the moment and decided to bring the place back to habitable standards.

He had to unpack his things first though. Gathering his luggage, he headed for the second floor, angling for the master bedroom.

For some reason, the grey and white stray decided to follow Arthur up the stairs. He recognized this cat. It was the local head honcho.

The cat gave a short meow and jumped up the steps. When he didn't move, it jumped down again, and poked Arthur’s leg with its tiny nose.

‘Aww.’

The last time Arthur was home, he had fed the cat a bunch of dried fish. At the time, he was bored, and the cat was hungry. So, why not? It was a win-win situation for both sides, and a business transaction he could be satisfied with.

The cat must’ve remembered him. More precisely, it must have viewed that event as a gesture of submission from Arthur the lazy human. Maybe that’s why it decided to bring over its gang, to take the place over.

Oh well.

Arthur gave it a smile. “Hey there, little buddy.”

He walked past the cat, up the stairs, and entered his room. The cat ghosted along after him.

“Well then. Let’s clean this place up, shall we?”

All he got was a long meow in response.

***

It was 5 PM by the time Arthur was done cleaning the first and second floor. Of course, if Arthur was doing the cleaning by hand, it would have taken far longer. The ryokan was huge. It would take a minimum of two days to scrub and mop every nook and cranny the old-fashioned way.

Arthur simply took out the auto-cleaners (aka Roombas) from the storage shed and turned them loose inside the house. When his grandmother was still alive, she'd insisted that his uncle supply the ryokan with all the latest home appliances. His uncle’s company had just been starting its operation back then. Now, it was one of the local up-and-coming stars of the tech industry.

‘I wonder how Uncle and Aunty are doing. I really should have visited them when I was in the Capital.’

Though Arthur knew his aunt and uncle would’ve welcomed him with open arms, he was just too self-conscious to visit them at that point. One party was a successful businessman, the pride of their family. He was a washed-up bachelor cursed by some evil spirit (according to the monk). It was unsightly, and probably all in his head, but the inferiority complex he felt was real.

Arthur shook his head, brushing away those uncomfortable thoughts. He headed for the control panel to check why the ventilations, and now the auto-cleaners, had stopped working.

With the house suspiciously silent, his first thought was the control panel had given out. But with everything else working, that couldn't be it. Not five steps to his destination, he switched course to check the shed. He hadn't heard anyone but himself in the house, but one could never be too sure, and Roombas weren't exactly a dime a dozen. Fortunately, no one had broken in, and there were still plenty of auto-cleaners remaining in storage. However, that left the mystery of where the ones he'd brought inside went.

He didn't need to look very far.

Coming around the house, he discovered the backyard was now littered with freshly-dug holes. Each had a still-active Roomba half buried in them. Arthur suspected the cat had had a hand in it. Or would that be paw?

Why did he suspect the cats? The moment Arthur had turned on the first Roomba and left the room, the cat had pounced on it, neutralized it in five seconds (i.e. flipped it over), dragged it to the back yard and started digging a hole.

Standing at the edge of the carnage, the man was more amused than angry. It seemed there was now a minor turf war going on in his house between the house cleaning appliances and the cat.

Said feline took pride of place in the middle of the 'graveyard'. Looking up at him, it twitched long whiskers in self-satisfaction.

“No, bad cat! Those aren’t prey.”

It flicked an ear and bent to groom a paw, as if to say, 'everyone's an art critic...'

Grabbing a rag from the house, he began the tedious job of pulling each machine from the ground, dusting it off, and emptying out the dirt it had eaten during its interment.

Stalking over, the grey and white fluffed up its fur and hissed, clearly not appreciating the reversal of his hard work. Waiting until the latest unearthed Roomba was set on the stack, it reached a paw out and swiped it back into the dirt.

Picking it up and dusting it back off, Arthur jabbed the device at the one responsible for this extra work. "No." Setting it back on the stack, he wagged his finger. "Leave them be. They're not going to eat you."

Blue eyes blinked up at him before their owner headbutted the reprimanding hand. He sighed.

"Cats…"

Gathering up the spoils, he carted the poor machines back inside. Setting the first one down, he turned it back on and snagged the feline before it could begin stalking the abused thing again, gently tucking it under his arm.

"You are coming with me." It glared between him and the skittering cleaner, flattening two-toned ears and hissing when it zoomed too close. "At least you've kept your claws to yourself… Thank you for that."

And so it went. Each time he reactivated a Roomba, the ears swept back and tiny fangs bared in an oh-so-fearsome battlecry.

Arthur shook his head in mirth. He wasn't sure where this grudge against the little machines came from, but apparently there was no love lost between the two. Closing the door on the last cleaner, he scritched around one ear and down under the chin. Whiskers flared and a purr vibrated through the furred body.

"What started your vendetta, huh? Did some despicable vacuum chase you around when you were a kitten? Is that it?" He chuckled. "Maybe I should keep you. See how far you take this war. Winner gets to devour a bag of smoked fish bits?"

The cat looked at him and wiggled, asking to be put down. Obliging, he watched the feline crouch to the floor and slink off, presumably to track down an innocently cleaning arch-nemesis.