9:36 P.M., Thursday, November 12, 2015

PLUR-MAkKikM, just outside Honolulu, HI

The treehouse was dark. Paula Akron blinked back a tear.

“I’m going to miss you so much!”

Paul Macon hugged the other child a little tighter. There had been a lot of tears lately, as they didn’t know how long they would be apart. They trusted Ted, sort of, and he assured them that he could get the system to work FOR them for a change.

But that system, that’s what the children didn’t trust. If Ted hadn’t worked out a Plan B, the flight to Africa option, they probably would have run away by now, perhaps going to California for real. Hey, the last time they had run off California had been a lie; the damned grown-ups would never think to look there now.

“I’ll miss you just as much,” the boy assured her. “I’ll see everybody else just as much: Ted, Cassandra, Dr. Rosi, even Michiko. But...”

“Oh my God!” Paula shouted.

“What?” Paul asked.

The little girl slapped herself in the forehead. “The fans! We can’t get together to do shows; not unless Michiko can find us a one thousand one foot stage. FUCK!”

“I ... I hadn’t even thought...”

“Neither had I!”

“We gotta do something for the fans!”

“They’ve been wonderful!”

Paula thought hard. “Maybe we can release messages? ‘We want to thank you for your support,’ that kind of thing. Maybe you release one and then later I release one? Just so everybody knows we’re not together when we record it.”

“Maybe we can record solos,” Paul suggested, “and release those? But the concerts ... FUCK!”

“There’s no way to do concerts,” Paula said.

“What time is it?”

Paula looked at the bedside alarm clock. “9:40. Why?”

“Ted always stays up ‘till about midnight,” the little boy pointed out. “Let’s go ask him if he has any ideas.”

“We’re supposed to be in bed for the night,” Paula reminded her boyfriend. “There’s school tomorrow.”

“Are you gonna be able to get any sleep until we think of something?” Paul asked.

The nine year old girl heaved a big sigh. “No. OK, let’s go talk to Ted.”

The walk from the treehouse to the main house was only about a hundred feet (thirty metres). They found the door locked and rang the doorbell. Soon they heard Ted’s voice from a speaker.

“Who is ... Oh, hi kids. Something wrong?”

“We can’t be on stage...”

“The fans won’t be able to...”

“We gotta figure out how to...”

“They’ve been so good and we...”

“How can we...”

The door opened and Ted Michaels motioned them in.

“OK,” he started, “one at a time, what’s wrong?”

The kids explained the situation, and the grown man had to admit that it was a puzzler. In truth it had been assumed that with this separation the shows would be suspended until the child-couple was reunited. Now Paul and Paula made it clear that nobody had asked them about this, and that they wanted to continue, in some way. None of what was happening was the fault of the fans, and the fans should get their concerts.

Several ideas were suggested and rejected: the kids could perform over Skype (not at the same time they couldn’t, because that would be communicating and that wasn’t allowed); one of them could perform and then be whisked away via helicopter, and then the other brought in (too expensive to do more than once or twice); each could record a solo performance and Michiko could play it (cool to do once, not several times, and besides the kids wanted to do something live).

The plan settled on was that the kids would open for Michiko, but one at a time. Paul would open one time and Paula would open the next, and they would continue to alternate until the separation was over.

“It’s too late to call Michiko now,” Ted pointed out. “I’ll contact her tomorrow as soon as it’s practical to do so. Now get to bed; there’s school in the morning.”

The kids gave Ted a hug and walked back to the treehouse. They cuddled a bit and slept.⁕ They barely made it to school on time, but Ted had anticipated this and was able to help them along.

⁕ Cuddled and slept, not fucked. There is no sex in this chapter of the children’s saga.