Milo

A free day. He had slept better last night. To talk things over with Sam had felt great. A relief actually. Maybe that was the therapy he needed.

Milo stood straight up by his bed. His apartment was a mess. Dirty clothes piled on one of his only two chairs. He vaguely remembered the last time he had changed bed sheets. The drone that was supposed to vacuum lay broken in one corner with dust starting to pile on it.

The shower was able to reuse the same amount of water across several uses with minimal effort, if he didn’t pee in it, before the water was sent into the main line and proper recycling. But he had to keep his mouth closed. After a quick shower he put on blue jeans, a white shirt and pulled on his worn leather jacket. The jacket was supposed to be black, but it had turned grey by time and life. A decade earlier on his birthday dad had gifted him it. Milo’s most treasured possession.

His dad lived in one of the inner rings and worked in the financial industry. The running of a space city required an amount of money Milo could barely grasp. Dad sat as a senior partner in the accounting firm balancing the budget.

They were going to meet in their usual spot: The Mythical Cat’s Coffee Shop. The city grew cleaner and people wore finer clothes as he closed the distance to the city center. The Mythical Cat was not located in the most central sectors, but a lot closer where Milo usually moved around. Smell, the first change that hit him. The pungent smell was replaced with a fresh hint of wet forest and nature.

Milo exited a corridor and stepped onto a newly mowed patch of grass. Grass which connected to a genuine garden with a myriad of plant life and trees. Lush bushes held plump berries and branching trees carried juicy apples. He grabbed a low hanging red apple and bit into it. Crunchy and rich in flavor. City guards would arrest him if he grabbed too many of the apples or other fruits and berries from the plants. Even though the trees were genetically modified to produce new full grown apples every week the rule held some merit. The purpose behind the gardens were to provide the inhabitants with a sense of being outside. A method to escape the city’s sometimes claustrophobic spaces. A couple sat on a blanket under the artificial lighting and dined on strawberries, a date probably. The woman laughed at something the man said. Milo walked through and left the gardens with a sense of jealousy.

The Mythical Cat was located on the ground floor of a high rising apartment complex. The picture above the coffee shop’s entrance displayed a wild black cat wearing a cowboy hat. Thriving vines climbed on the outside walls and snaked around the closed windows. Coffee beans grew from the stalks in different stages of their life cycle. A satisfying scent of brewed coffee beckoned him to come inside.

He entered and found dad immediately. The old man sat by one of the windows and watched without focus, as if he was trapped in deep thoughts. Dad’s white beard seemed longer for every time he met the man. It used to be blonde, but age had turned it white. When sitting down the beard reached to his thighs.

“Good morning!” Dad greeted him. His dad’s old and withered face lit up. The dark rings underneath his eyes became harder to discern. A smile under the massive beard, even. “I have already ordered for us. Chocolate muffins and coffee are on the way.”

Dad knew how much he loved those muffins. “Morning to you too and thank you,” Milo replied and slid into the seat opposite him.

“So, what is happening in your life? What is on your mind?” Dad asked him.

Milo hung the jacket on the chair. “All good. Well, yesterday, I helped Captain Samuels again with his corvette. A railgun not receiving enough juice,” he replied, knowing it was probably for the better not to delve into the details. He had withheld the knowledge of his body’s strange behavior all his life, so why disclose it now? No, dad would only worry too much, not good for the old heart.

“Captain Samuels is a good man! His work of thinning out the pirates makes everybody rest easier. Did he ask you to join his crew again?” Dad said with a wide smile.

Dad knew how much it nagged him, but asked either way. “You mean I am not interested in dying? Those corvettes are tin cans!” Milo said. “Please, step off, dad.”

“You are such a coward,” dad said and giggled in response, being totally amused by his son.

Milo started up with a harsh reply, but was interrupted. “Your Navy days are long gone.”

The waitress came by their table. “Here you go, Cane Marshal and son, your order.”

Two cups of coffee and two plates with chocolate muffins were placed on the table between them. Milo dropped two sugar cubes into his coffee and grabbed a cup. Dad saw the sugar cubes and smiled, but didn’t say anything. The coffee tasted wonderful. Milo watched the waitress walk away.

Dad noted his observation and teased him. “So, how is it going with the ladies? A young and healthy man like you should have no trouble in that department.”

“Dad,” Milo sighed, but he knew dad would not let it go. The old man wanted grandkids. No reason to lie, dad would see straight through it.“No developments.”

“So you have not asked out the receptionist at work yet?” Dad said. “In my days…,” dad continued but Milo interrupted him.

“Not more about your conquests. Please,” Milo said. “Could we not talk about anything else.”

Dad always wanted to prod and prod. Milo knew dad was interested in his life, so no reason for him to get upset. But the old man pushed a little too hard at times. Milo sipped some coffee.

“Son, I have a new book for you,” dad said, changing the subject.

The book! Milo had forgotten it. How stupid of him! He had even placed in plain view so he would not forget.

Dad reached down under the table, for a bag and retrieved a fairly fat paperback. The book landed with a heavy thud on the table. “Dune” was written on the front and the cover had a large worm-like monster swimming in the sand.

“A great read,” dad said.

Milo grabbed the book and opened the first pages.

“I forgot your other book. I finished it the other week and afterwards I have been waiting with high hopes for your next suggestion,” Milo said while reading a quote which preceded the start of chapter one.

“Don’t fret. You can simply bring it with you next time we meet,” Dad explained. “After this one you can read the continuation of our favorite assassin.”

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…,” Milo started, but didn’t finish the quote. “I am game, dad. This sounds awesome,” he said and met dad’s eyes. A giant smile in a wrinkled face.

“A classic. I am sure you will enjoy it,” Dad replied and took a big bite from his muffin. “This is some real good shit.”

Milo closed the book and placed it back on the table. Dad knew books.

“You really should ask her out,” dad said.

Milo sighed.

-

Milo left the Mythical Cat with a new book in his hands and a better mood. A cup of coffee and a talk with dad always put life in a different perspective. Maybe he should ask the receptionist, what would be the worst that could happen?

He might have drunk a little too much coffee because now he felt jittery. Dad’s book suggestions were always stellar, so he was looking forward to this new read. Giant sand worms could only be awesome! As he made his way towards the carts he passed the time by reading the book. This was his hidden talent; he had always been able to do it. If he kept the book at a certain angle he was able to see bystanders and avoid them in good time without bumping into them. He passed an open space with a garden, the same one he walked through on his way to the coffee shop and then into a corridor leading to the carts. Another junction passed, but there was yelling. Milo halted, looked at the page number and closed the book. There was the sound again! He backtracked the junction. It was definitely coming beyond that corridor. Was that a scream? He swallowed the fear. This time he would act. He walked a few paces into the corridor. A woman’s scream. His legs carried him faster towards the source of the voice. She screamed again, she was in panic. The end of the corridor lit up in red as a beam weapon discharged.

Milo brought up his hand terminal and placed the call. “Sam! I might need that backup.”

“One moment. Okay, I have your location. Wait for me, Milo. Claire, I need m…,” Sam said, but Milo severed the connection.

Milo ran and with a gasping breath he took the corner too fast for his common sense. Three armed men in masks. One of them was a mountain of muscles and held the blonde woman by her throat up against the wall. Her eyes widened in panic as the big man choked her. She tried to wiggle loose, but the man squeezed tighter.

“Scram, kid,” a second and smaller man said while brandishing a knife towards him.

Milo froze and the book made a heavy thud when it landed on the floor.

“Leave or I will cut you,” the man said. All the men’s faces were covered in black masks. “Hold her down. I will send a proper message. Your father shouldn’t have messed with us,” the knife wielding man said.

The mountain threw the woman on the floor and pulled at her clothes.

“Stop!” Milo said and raised a palm towards the three men. With confidence.

A sugary taste. The blue bolt of lightning thundered from his palm and crashed into the mountain, who stumbled. Milo was thrown down to the floor, almost hitting his head on an access hub in the wall, and the edge of a knife’s blade pushed at his throat. It stung and blood trickled slowly.

“You will find that death is a relief,” the man said. The man turned to his friend. “Are you alright?” The mountain carefully got up on his feet and touched his side. Smoke rose from where the bolt had scorched the man’s clothes and skin, but the man seemed otherwise in good health.

The woman screamed as she tossed around on the floor. The two men who didn’t hold Milo down tore at her clothes. Why had he even tried? An utterly stupid idea. He turned his head away, not wanting to watch the woman be raped.

“I have changed my mind. I will keep you. You will wish yourself dead when I am through with you,” the man on him said, spitting at his face.

The electrical access hub on the wall was cracked in the side. Milo could see the cables inside, a few even looked sliced. Exposed with sparks jumping between them. He could not reach far enough.

“What are you trying to do?” The masked man said.

Milo rolled and shoved at his attacker, the knife cut into his skin. His hand reached into the access hub and fingers closed on the damaged wire.

Milo roared and shook, electricity thundering into him, his mouth filled with sweetness.

“You littl…,” the masked man yelled.

But the world around Milo slowed down and an explosion of sweetness in his mouth. In this brief moment his mind darted across the city’s electrical grid and connected computers. Every processor, every electronic were at his fingertips as his body drank the electric energy. The city’s surface became his skin, its gravity core his heart and its processors his power. His body charged up, his vision tinted blue. Around him the world sped up again. He let go of the cable and turned to the three assailants...

...Empowered. The barriers of hesitation and fear obliterated. He, a conduit of excited electrons. Energy rippled through him. His very breath electrifying the air. He gasped at his own capacity.

The man came at him, hand held high grasping a glinting knife. Milo’s right hand shot out, palm opened, tendrils of electricity snaking around his body, a blue bolt of lightning thundered into the target. At impact the man’s heart surrendered immediately, his body scorched. Milo stepped aside, avoiding the falling corpse. The mountain rushed forward, Milo smiled. Tendrils of electricity pooled in his hands. Lightning slammed into the big man, over and over again, but it only slowed him down. Milo leaned into it, pumping out tendrils.

... Milo’s vision turned double, his breaths desperate and he convulsed. Electricity died off and confidence with it. The mountain’s strong fingers grasped tightly around his head. A chunk of flesh dissolved in the mountain’s chest, sickly green liquids oozed out of the growing wound. Eating through the man’s flesh and bones. The corpse let go of Milo and fell.

“Goddamn,” Sam said, standing beside him, gripping a shotgun with a drum magazine. Its muzzle oozed a green, acidic liquid. “That was more than sparks. You are bleeding.”

Milo touched his neck and looked at the hand. Blood, but only a sliver, he would be alright. The hall lit up red and Milo barely observed that the woman had shot the third man in the head. How had she gotten the gun from him?

“You okay?” The woman asked standing besides Sam. Her blonde hair was halfway freed from its ponytail. Her clothes were ripped, but there was no blood or injury that he could see.

Sam reached a hand for him and helped him up. “Eh. Blue, what did I say about waiting for me?”

Milo felt confused. “Blue?”

“Yeah, it suits,” Sam said and turned to the woman. “What is your name?”

“Rachel. Rachel Meyer,” Rachel said.

“We are moving before the potential friends of these thugs notice what has happened,” Sam said and scanned the hall.

The three corpses were still, smoke rose from them and the awful smell of burnt human flesh clung to the air. Sam kept him upright. His head ached and his body tensed with pain.

“I know a place,” Sam said and kept Milo steady while they moved out of the corridor.