December 14, 1967.
At the Carl Mason School for the Blind, a smartly-dressed nurse strode through the halls. She opened the door to the veranda. "Mister Michaelson? You have a letter."
David Michaelson smiled and reached for the letter. The nurse set it in his hand. "Thanks, Becky."
The nurse chuckled. "I don't think I'll ever get over your resemblance to Micky Dolenz!"
Michaelson laughed. "Later, Becky." Becky laughed and he heard her heels retreat.
Michaelson tore open the letter. His fingers glided over the Braille words and he whispered the letter to himself.
I didn't want anything to do with you for a while. It's difficult to know there's an exact copy of yourself out there. It took the guys this long to tell me details of what happened.
If I could change things, I would. You didn't ask to be created, and you certainly didn't deserve the savage blinding your masters gave you. I don't hate or fear you anymore. I want to be your friend.
If you want me to, I'll come see you next Friday after shooting. Maybe the five of us can go somewhere or something. You call the shots.
I've gotta go now. I'll call before I come. I think of you as the brother I never had.
Michaelson folded the letter and turned his face to the heat of the setting sun. He smiled and let the tears fall.
A hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, making him start. David Michaelson? The voice sounded like crystal rain.
"Yes....I...I didn't hear you come in! Who...who are you?"
My name is Roma. You will get to know me quite well, as will your brother and friends. I am here to take you to your new home.
"New home?" The blinded clone frowned. "I wasn't aware that I was being moved."
You are. Your brother and friends will need a few familiar things in their new home. It will be wonderful for you -- you will be out of these confining walls.
His eyes widened. "You mean it?"
I mean it. If you are willing.... reach for my voice.
David Michaelson did --- and there was a flash of light.
When it faded, the door to the verandah opened once more. "He's right out here, reading a let----" Becky's voice trailed off as she looked around. "Well, he was out here..."
Reporter Susan Jacobsen frowned and tapped her lower lip with her fingertip. More weirdness. It seems to be escalating these last few weeks....and the Monkees are always at the heart of it. I will find out what's going on. I swear it.
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