Tech Amuck: Downloading Dad

(For people who are color blind the light here is green)

 Jeff Wincer did not get most things: technology, the difference between red and green, why people shouldn’t wear white after Labor Day? But he understood his son, Milo, and Milo certainly did get most things. Milo was something the Wincer family hadn’t experienced in generations: a genius. The sheer awe Jeff was in to have his son come home and always with a report card of full A’s. Never happened for Jeff, or his dad, or his dad’s dad. Everything went up on the fridge.

The only area Milo wasn’t as successful in was P.E., which only sucked because people around town knew Jeff was into CrossFit. Classic jock dad and nerd son. Except, Jeff wasn’t willing to go to war over Milo’s physique. Jeff had been terrified he’d get a typical Wincer son: sporty, rebellious, brash. But Jeff was blessed, his life was super easy when he had a kid that was just naturally well behaved.

Milo was the one that came to him having won a free trial at the new technology center in town, Connected Growth Innovations. A surprise for Jeff’s birthday, where he’d get the most in-depth virtual reality experience. The reason Milo was so giddy was because his father was colorblind, but the “experience” offered by the clinic was the chance for Jeff to see not only color but color through his son’s eyes. Even just hearing it and not knowing what the words meant exactly touched Jeff's heart, he pretended to crush his son in a bear hug.
 

 

Being in the clinic was a whole other experience, sterile white walls, bright lights, long corridors. Jeff sat in a room; a special VR headset placed over his eyes with wires on his temples. The room next door was a courtyard where Milo sat on the bench, a pair of glasses with wires flowing to his head. They were both fitted with earpieces to hear each other.

A silly tagline on the wall about technology helping people and cultures grow together or some such.

“Alright, Mr. Wincer you're going to see everything your son sees. Are you both ready?” The female lead trial runner asked.

“Ugh, free trial number #136, when are we actually gonna charge money?” A male voice added, whispering to his colleague.

“Shhhh!”

“Yes.” Jeff stated.

“Me too!” Milo added.

“Begin.”

Milo opened his eyes in the courtyard, staring at the collection of flowers planted around the place. Jeff couldn’t even make it 2 minutes once he saw the color red as his son saw it. There were such a vibrancy and intensity. Jeff began to cry, silently, “Milo, I love how you see the world.”

“Do you like your gift dad?”

“Milo, this is the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Jeff shared honestly. People thought he was dumb, too dimwitted if it didn't involve his muscles. That’s why Milo’s mother left and why Jeff's own parents couldn't be bothered with him. Why do something for an idiot? Well, his son had just showed him why: because it still felt nice to be thought of. 
 

(For people who are color blind the light here is red) 

There was a tired exhale from the male worker’s voice, “I can’t believe we have 20 more of these.” Jeff heard an office chair rolling around, then—

“Shit!” 

“Did you bring coffee in here?!” The female voice yelled.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

“Ugh dad? This... this kinda hurts.” Milo said. 

“Son, you, okay?” Jeff was trying to understand the situation in the lad and Milo’s condition. As he went to remove the headset, sharp pain made him seize up. He was supposed to be seeing what his son saw, but this wasn’t correct. The wires on his head pulled at his vision and more than his vision. He could feel how invasive it was scouring his brain for everything and sending it through the wires. Jeff felt like his head was being pulled through a straw. Then it was more than his head, every cell in his body had a volt running through it.

Jeff would never forget the way Milo screamed.

“Milo what’s happening?!” All Jeff could do himself was speak.

“Dad, I feel you.” Milo stressed.

“Son, I'm still in the lab.” Jeff panted, brain being stripped down.

“No dad, in my head. Please make it stop.” Milo cried. “There’s so much of you. I can’t hold it all…”

“Milo! You're going to be fine, I’m right here.” Jeff said back not knowing if it was a lie or not. 
There was an explosion.

The clinic’s workers would only remember coming to and finding Jeff performing CPR on his son. Even after the immense pain of the VR headset, Jeff had flicked it off and ran to his son. Only when Milo let out a breath, did Jeff stop, smile with relief, then pass out himself.

The clinic had them both in a recovery wing, Jeff was responsive and mobile first and had himself wheeled to his son every day. During one of the nights, Milo opened his eyes, but only for a few seconds, Jeff was over him, carefully cradling his hand. “Hey buddy boy, welcome back to earth,”

Milo gave his dad a dopey grin, “Dad…I love you.” Jeff tried to get his son to conserve his energy, calling for a nurse, but Milo was insistent on saying it.

“When we get home. I’m buying all that terrible ice cream you like.” Jeff whispered.

“It’s Rocky Road, dad.” Milo smiled.

“It’s a heart attack with all that sugar.” Jeff brought the back of his hand up to caress Milo’s face. Milo pressed back into it, before Jeff noticed his son had dozed off to sleep. A nurse finally came in.

The next time Milo woke up, it wasn’t a sweet moment. Jeff was there and watched as his son stirred awake, breathing rapidly increasing as he looked down at himself, then at the room until his eyes landed on his dad. Jeff stood up and pressed a soft hand to his chest, “Hey, the doctor said this would happen, follow my breathing.” Jeff got his son to breathe calmly by establishing a lead for his son to follow. A Doctor and nurses spilled in asking various questions. 

But Milo only asked for one thing: For his dad to leave.

Jeff chose to walk out the room but only because his son said ‘please’. Milo wouldn't even look at him. Was it because the gift hadn’t worked out? Jeff didn't give a shit about that. He muddled around for a while until he was invited back. Only the doctor, Dr. Levinson, and Milo were in the room as Jeff sat down.

We have some news to share about Milo’s condition.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Jeff asked, he tried to grabbed for his son’s hand, but Milo flinched.

Dr. Levinson watched the interaction, then sighed. “Mr. Wincer, the device was created to share vision from one party to another. However, due to the mix-up, instead of transmitting Milo’s eyesight and transmitting it for you, The machine gave a sort of backlash. Therefore you, Mr. Wincer, were transmitting towards Milo.”

“Okay so he saw what I did with the VR headset.” Jeff said that knowing it couldn’t be the answer if he thought of it. It was too simple. This was typically the part where Milo would explain the techno babble to his dad, but his son was quiet, hands gripping at his sheets. Jeff beat himself up mentally for trying to rely on his son, knowing Milo was having a hard time. He needed to be just a bit smarter. Why couldn’t he be smarter when he needed it?!

“That’s the thing because of the error; the headset transmitted more than your vision. It went further and scanned your mind, and who knows what else, and launched it towards your son. Milo's head was bombarded with a direct copy of yours. 

“He…doesn’t get it.” Milo said softly. Jeff smiled a small thank you to his son. 
Nodding with understanding, Dr. Levinson pulled out graphs. We have charts of both you and Milo’s brain wave patterns before the trial and during the trial.” Dr. Levinson pointed to the small then large line.

“That’s Milo down there, That’s you up here. “He retrieved the next chart, "When the trial started your brain waves synchronized much like when conversing. Your pattern got a bit smaller; Milo’s a bit larger. Mimicking each other.” Dr. Levinson pulled out the last graph. We recently checked Milo’s brainwaves, and this was the result.

“That’s just mine from earlier,” Jeff questioned.

“No, Mr. Wincer, we verified multiple times. This is undeniably Milo’s brain waves. Or rather the brain waves in your son’s body.”

“So, what you're saying is...” Jeff leaned forward.

“Mr. Wincer we have reason to believe that your son’s mind was assimilated by your brain waves. The fact the backlash was unrestrained and delivered at such a fast rate was equivalent to over Trillions amount of data being put into his brain, memories, skills, muscle memory.”

“Jeff,” Milo spoke in a way his dad didn't recognize. “He’s saying I’m you.”

Dr. Levinson jumped in to correct Milo, “Technically, it’s still Milo’s body and brain. In a sense one could say,” he gestured towards the bed, “Your son is convinced that he’s you.”

“Well, unconvince him!” Jeff started to raise his voice. He stood out of his chair moving toward Milo.

“Tell him this is a crazy, son; you don’t think you’re me.”

The boy let out a sigh, “My name is Jeff Wincer, I was born in Boston, Massachusetts. My family never liked it there–too cold–we moved. CrossFit helps me think, keeps the blood pumping. If I’m not up by 7am I get antsy. I like to think of myself somewhat as a lady’s man though I’d never bring them home to Milo. What I remember from yesterday was my son doing the kindest thing for me. Then I got ripped from my body, compressed, and funneled through a wire.”

Dr. Levinson held up a finger, “We learned this from our questions of him earlier. Do you know how remarkable this is? He experienced the information exchange as an entire consciousness separated from itself.”

“I don’t know about remarkable,” Milo grumbled, like Jeff would have. “Anyway, I woke up today and my body’s standing over me, moving independently of me. You have any idea how freaky that shit is?”  
Jeff's eyes went wide. People cursed all the time, he cursed, but he’d never heard Milo curse before. He was sure his son did it, just not in front of him.

“So, what’s the plan to fix it?” Jeff asked. 

Dr. Levinson pressed his hands together, “As things stand now, and the nature of the incident. We have no way to restore Milo. The best thing we can do is hope his brainwaves adjust on their own.”

“But even then,” Milo piped up, "Though I won’t feel like you anymore, Milo will still have all the information.”

“Fuck,” Jeff whispered. “Okay fuck,” He held up a hand as if to pause the conversation, then place it over his face stressed. His eyes on Milo. “But what about what you said to me the first time you woke up?”

“I just woke up today.” Milo responded.

Jeff quickly explained the short interaction he and Milo had before his son passed out again. 

Dr. Levinson’s ears perked up. ‘Fascinating. It’d be my hypothesis, that Milo maybe sensed his brain was changing. He probably felt your mind taking his over but wanted to speak to you one final time.” The doctor was muttering to himself not saddened or empathic, but ecstatic. 

“Hey dude, can you like chill the fuck out? We’re going through some shit.” Milo said aggressively. “I’m in my son’s body telling myself. He might never talk to his son again. Come on now.”

“Oh of course.” The doctor stood quickly. “I’m going to have to go share this news with the team. This is beyond our wildest dreams.” He left the room practically skipping.

“He knows we're going to sue the shit out of them, right?” Milo joked,.

Jeff looked at Milo, using his jokes, his humor, his mannerisms.

—

As a father, Jeff tried to be strong going through the motions of showing up to Milo’s room every day, but how depressing it was to be stuck having a conversation with himself. He quizzed Milo; he had to. Just to be sure. His son knew Jeff’s first pet, his first kiss, the one time he stole a candy bar in first grade.

One day he walked into the room, two coffees in hand, prepared the same way. Two creams, two sugars. Sitting down, Jeff looked at the papers scattered over Milo’s desk. “What’s all this? They making you sign stuff?”

Milo didn’t look up, “Milo’s homework. He’s been out of school for days. If he doesn’t get into the college he wants one day because I was lazing around, and made his grades slip, I’d hate myself.” He bit the edge of his pencil clearly frustrated.

Leaning closer, Jeff cleared his voice to say “Milo, If any of you is in there…I’m so sorry you got my dumb brain in your head.” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry I’m so stupid and an idiot—

There was a hand on Jeff’s shoulder, “Hey, even I know Milo would never call us stupid or an idiot. You’re going through hell, I’m going through hell stuck in here, but don’t beat yourself up.” Milo gave a smirk that didn’t suit his face. “Besides,” He laid back in the bed, “This is the easiest stuff ever.”

Jeff peered over. Some form of Math homework.  Worksheets about Algebra? Calculus? Statistics? Jeff couldn’t tell the difference honestly. “You get this?” He picked up a filled in sheet with answers and the work done to get the answer.

“Yeah!” Milo stated, then he looked at Jeff’s face scrunched while trying to read the page, “You don’t?”

“I was never really good at math.” Jeff shared.

“Me neither but…I figured I'd give it a try.” Milo found himself slowing down as he was talking a realization hitting him. “And it wasn't as hard as I thought.”

They called for Dr. Levinson.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Wincer I can’t definitively say that’s a sign of Milo returning. On the contrary, I’d say it’s a sign of Milo’s brain’s ability to process information coming through.

“Huh?”

“He’s basically saying, because Milo’s a genius. I am too,” Milo clarified for Jeff.

“We’ll keep monitoring to watch for any changes.” Dr. Levinson departed.

Jeff watched his son. Milo’s face was pouting, but underneath it was another version of Jeff that was upset. Jeff was trying so hard to wrap his head around that fact. Milo finished up all the work on the desk then neatly stacked it up with the papers. Then he asked if they could walk outside the room. Milo got out of bed, dressed in the clinic’s pale blue pajama set CGI Labs. embroidered on the chest. It was the first time Jeff had seen his son waist down since the accident. The man noted how the pants didn't reach Milo’s ankles and the top rode up on his arms. Milo stepped forward, his legs wobbled and he fell. Jeff was there to catch him, zipping in front of his son, to have Milo plant on his chest.

“Sorry about that, you'd think being closer to the ground would make me sturdier,” he chuckled, embarrassed. Jeff offered an arm that Milo took silently, while putting on slippers. They walked around for a bit not saying much. What could they say? They were one person, inhabiting 2 bodies in a sense. No doubt thoughts aligned. How fucked the situation was. The only place for fresh air was the courtyard. Luckily there were multiple entrances that didn't have an exploded lab connected.

They stepped out and both did their famous deep breath for fresh air. Part of Jeff still expected to hear Milo laughing at his dad's but there was nothing. “Holy shit, That’s right! That’s red.” Milo let go of Jeff’s arms, approaching the flowers slowly as if he didn’t want to scare them off. He poked a finger out. The flower bopped for his touch. “You seeing this?” 

“Nope.” Jeff watched, amused as his other self, devolved in a version with full wonder in his eyes. “I think that’s just you.”

“Right.” Milo sighed, “because this is my son’s body.” He opened and closed his hands. “Milo’s not colorblind, so now I’m not either.” There was a small dampening on the mood, the two sat on a bench, legs spread, knees knocking against each other. They rested their heads back, as the wind blew a gentle breeze.

“I try really hard ya know.” Milo shared.

“I know, I do too. Being a dad’s hard.” Jeff shared. 

Milo chuckled and for a moment sounded like himself, “Not that. Looking for Milo in my head.” he tapped on his noggin, then dropped his hand lazily to the bench. “I don’t know if I expect to feel him or hear another voice but he’s not there. He’s me. And God I’m everywhere in here.” Milo let out a frustrated sigh. “I speak and I hear him but, it’s just me underneath. Haven’t even looked in the mirror. Don’t think I could stand it. Seeing his face and knowing he’s not there.” he tapped Jeff’s thigh. “You’re tougher than me.”

“Me?” Jeff snorted. “I cried when Milo was born, a sopping mess.”

Milo laughed, “I know, but not as bad as that time you had to kiss Hannah Whitaker.”

“Oh Christ.” Jeff put his hands in his head, “Don’t remind me. I was way too old to be convinced she had cooties.”

“Hey, you got better though, making out with Gretta Lee on the Ferris wheel.” Milo leaned over, Jeff’s knowing grin on his face.

“What can I say a difference some years make?” Jeff pumped his chest, bouncing his pecs as Milo laughed. Father and son laughing together.

Jeff spotted it first; Milo’s chest popped. First one pec, then the other. The man thought it was a joke, his son copying him. But he had to remind himself; he wasn't talking to his son. He knew it wasn't a joke when Milo's chest pumped itself larger, pecs baking themselves onto his body. There was a crack and a pop, Milo legs grew out and his shoulders drifted away from each other. The button on his pajamas snapped off, unable to contain his torso. Feet increasing in size pushed the slippers off planting themselves on the ground. Milo's hands gripped the edge of the bench, doubling in size. Then his face elongated as his chin pushed out. Milo was left sweating.

Jeff had no words.

—

Dr. Levinson sat down for another meeting with Jeff and the clearly older Milo. Milo was back in bed, with Jeff at his side multiple tests ran with neither showing any signs of injury.

“It would appear; the machine did more than transmit your conscious mind Mr. Wincers.” The doctor was high off the information. “As we speak, Milo’s brain is doing an overhaul, according to your body’s blueprints at a cellular level.”

“What??” Jeff and Milo said in unison. It was complicated for even Milo’s head to grasp.

“What does that have to do with him getting older.” Jeff panicked. “Look at him, he’s like a fucking stud.”

He motioned to Milo. 

“I’m saying Milo’s brain is turning his body into yours. It’s trying to calibrate itself correctly.”

“Make it stop then.” Jeff asked.

“It’s not something we can control. It’s like the brain telling your heart to beat,” Dr. Levinson held up his hands, gesturing wildly between Jeff and Milo, "Don't you see how amazing this is, your mind is affecting your son’s body, aging it, changing it. Science isn’t ready for this.”

Jeff shoved the Doctor back, grabbing the thin man by his coat. “Put my son back to how he was. You guys broke his brain. You have to fix it.” The hate in Jeff’s eyes was palatable as the man was unable to move, unable to even get a whisper out for security.

“Dad, put him down…please!” Milo—not Milo—said. His voice was deeper and body too big to be Jeff’s son. The attempt to mimic Milo in the older body was downright comical, when Milo’s face looked so pained having said ‘dad’ and ‘please’. Jeff knew himself too well, even under the guise of Milo. But it was nice to hear even a pitched version of Milo’s voice call him dad. He dropped Dr. Levinson onto the floor.

The man scurried away like the rat he was. 

—

The Wincers were released back home, when they were mostly healed, but still expected to come in for check ups for the next few months. Jeff helped Milo walk up the porch’s stairs to their house. His son’s body had grown again in the car ride back and Jeff didn’t want him to stumble. Milo didn’t argue and let his dad support him. Jeff was trying hard not to notice how far Milo had to go until reaching his height. Then there was the muscle. So much of what Jeff had worked hard for over years was forced upon Milo. His son’s body was weighted in its movements and thudded all about the place. 

Jeff opened the front door and helped his son inside. They hadn't been home since what was only supposed to be a day trip. There were remnants of their lives pre the ‘event’ all frozen. In the living room there was a blanket where Milo had been laying on the couch watching TV. An empty soda can and a small bowl of half-eaten peanut M&Ms sat on the coffee table. In the kitchen, Jeff had left out folders dealing with clients and personal accounting business. Jeff mentally chastised himself for leaving it out, but it was only supposed to be for an hour or 2 at best. He walked Milo over to the couch and helped him sit down.

“Ah this is so annoying,” Milo stretched his body out, rolling his neck, wrists, shoulders, wrist, then ankles. The clinic had taken back their properly sized patient pajamas and forced Milo to go home in the clothes he wore. Before they were released, Milo had started undressing when it was only him and Jeff in the room. Jeff had grown up, playing team sports, being in locker rooms, so a nude body wasn’t anything new, but to see Milo do it all so casually. Another reminder was a version of him piloting Milo’s body.

And from the very start it was a bad idea. 

Milo had to shimmy his boxer briefs up his legs, thighs attempting to tear the seams, Then came the real problems: Milo’s cock and ass. Even soft, Milo’s cock was too big to sit in the pouch without bulging out. As for his ass, which everyone knew was gradually shifting into Jeff’s ass even in the seconds it wasn’t perceptible, refused to let the waistband over them. Milo bounced around, attempting to jump into them. Jeff sighed, walking over, remembering how his teammates in the locker rooms dealt with this. He pushed Milo's ass in and yanked the underwear up. The underwear didn’t reach all the way, but it was close enough.

“Thanks man.” Milo fisted bumped Jeff, a habit from college after helping a teammate out. Funny enough, Milo looked like a college kid whose brother had pulled a prank on him, his body spilling out of his own undergarments. The rest of the clothes were a bit more annoying, but Milo forced himself into it all. Which was the outfit he now wore in the house.

The latest growth was quickly having Milo’s shirt graduate to crop top, more of his midriff showing with improved abs. His jeans’ hemlines, already highwaters, got pulled steadily further from his ankles and rose along his mid-calf. Then there were his shoes, which Milo painstakingly got his feet into. The mesh of his tennis shoes were over-bloated, Millo’s toes stretching to the front and soles pushing out the sides. Jeff could practically see Milo’s toes writhing underneath, begging for release.

A limit was reached. Milo’s pecs popped out, masterfully adding extra beef on their will alone, and rudely, tearing through Milo’s shirt so that only halves remained. The button to his jeans flew off into the room as his bulge came barreling out, making the zipper submit, splits opened across the legs as his thighs demanded airtime. “ahhhh–AHHHH!” Milo yelled with another drop in his voice and his feet shredded his shoes. His toes found freedom ascending to Jeff’s size to rest happily. 

“Holy shit, Milo!” Jeff was by his son’s side making sure Milo’s heart rate was okay. His hand met the warm pec meat, pressing down. Jeff tried not to linger on this thought, but prior to the nonsense, his hand would have taken up more of Milo’s chest.  Milo’s heart was fine, if a little energetic. 

There was an internal reckoning for Jeff: Milo, even if he did come back, wouldn’t be able to wear his own clothes. Neither Jeff nor his other self knew how to make Milo come back faster, Or if he could come back at all. Fat help CGI Labs were! They were more interested in letting the whole thing play out. Vultures over an accident they had caused. Jeff didn’t—couldn’t dwell on ‘if’ Milo returned. It had to be ‘when’ or else he wouldn't have the strength to keep going. 

On some level, the other Jeff inside Milo must have understood that because he was apologizing, through his labored breathing, “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to.” As his existence was responsible for making Milo’s body conform. Jeff wrapped his hand softly around Milo's neck and brought their foreheads together. It was something he had often done in private moments to calm his son down.

“Shhhh It’s okay,” he stroked his hand through Milo’s hair. The softness and vibrancy were fading into a dull coarse mimicry of Jeff’s. “I am mad at myself. For what I’ve done. But deep down I know you’re Milo. So, ask yourself. How could I ever be mad at him? You don’t ever have to blame yourself.” He moved his head away looking his son in the eyes, “How could my smart boy ever think something so dumb? That really must be me in your head.”

Milo’s body was crying, then it reached out and pulled Jeff into a hug,” Listen to me, I haven’t felt like Milo once since I woke up. But didn’t I fucking tell you not to call yourself stupid.” his hug got tighter.“Our son wouldn’t want that for you, and he’d know it wasn't your fault. None of this! Trust his smart brain telling you that.”

Jeff broke down crying into Milo’s arms, knowing they were soon to not be Milo’s arms, nor was Milo around. “I miss him. I want to hear him and talk to him again. Even if it's to tell me he hates my jokes.”

The other Jeff rocked his larger self. “I know man. I know.” 

By the time all tears were let out, they ended up laughing, Jeff Wincer wasn’t the type of man to cry easily. On a technical level he’d now done it twice in one day. Jeff took his other self to what was in a way, their room. Jeff pulled his clothes from the closet, throwing them on the bed. “You’ll need something to wear and no need to walk around ruining the rest of Milo’s outfits.”

The other Jeff stepped out of the remains of Milo’s clothing, carefully folding them in reverence and setting them on his bed. He threw on a black t-shirt and navy sweats. All still a bit baggy for his body, shirt draping, sweats falling below his hip, pubic bush out. He hadn’t opted to go for Jeff’s underwear. Milo’s body was more than a decade older and still not where Jeff’s body was at. Jeff chuckled to himself, sat on the bed, watching Milo’s body pose in the mirror. It was as if he’d passed close to a younger brother.

The posing stopped, “Hey Jeff, could I ask a favor?”

“Sure,”

Milo’s eyes looked at him through the mirror, before looking down. “What if I…went by a different name?”

“What do you mean,” Jeff straightened up.

“Well, I don’t think you can keep calling me Milo in our neighborhood, when I look like someone else.” Then he quickly added, “But I also don’t want to be like Jeff 2 or something. I mean a real name.”

“What brought this on?” Jeff asked, voice emotionless, not angry or sad, only curious.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I never wanted to be called Milo, but it seemed to help you feel better. But recently, I’ve noticed you haven’t been calling me anything. I don’t know what’ll happen, but I can’t keep going like this. I can’t be Jeff, but I also can’t be Milo.”

“What do you want to be called?” Jeff asked.

“Evan, it’s—

“The other name we were thinking of for Milo before he was born. His mom always liked Milo more.”
The other Jeff nodded, “And we both know she was right. It's the perfect name for our son. Just not for me.” The newly appointed Evan walked over to Jeff and placed a hand on the larger man’s left shoulder.

“When Milo comes back, I'm sure he’ll love hearing his name again.” He said ‘When’ not ‘If’, Jeff noted and appreciated it.

Evan did eventually leave with Milo’s clothing scraps and a few other outfits, so that Jeff could have a moment alone. Jeff didn’t scream, yell, or cry. He was tired but couldn’t fall asleep. So, he lay in bed, eyes on the ceiling. By the time he came back down, Evan was sitting in the kitchen going through Jeff's folders. The young man wasn't messing around either, he was seriously examining and taking down notes. On the table in front of him a bowl and spoon. Jeff strolled in seeing the melted chocolate remains. 

“You know, I don’t know if you should be looking at my client’s stuff, but seeing how we’re the same I can get how it's complicated.” Jeff added.

“Oh, shit,” Jeff dropped his pencil. “I just glimpsed at a folder on the table, and I had all these ideas about different workouts our clients could try. Then I saw the accounts and I wondered how we could make more money. My mind was on fire. Err—Milo’s mind.” He sighed. “But enough about me, explain this,” He presented the empty bowl to Jeff. 

“Looks like you ate ice cream,” Jeff smirked.

“I know that, I mean the fact there are three tubs of Rocky Road in there. When did you even buy it?” 

“I snuck away a while ago and stashed them here in case Milo came back, so it'd be waiting for him, CGI Labs reamed my ass out for disappearing though.” Jeff's attention went between Evan and the bowl, “but I hate Rocky Road.”

“Yeah, me too, or at least I remember hating it.  I got the urge to try it and once it was on my tongue, fireworks man.” Evan shook his head in disbelief, “Never tasted anything like it. Since this is Milo’s body, I think I inherited his sweet tooth and taste buds.”

Jeff, spurred on by Evan's statement, made himself a bowl. The moment it was in his mouth he knew he had to abort. Sugar and too many nuts for one bite. He gave his bowl over to Evan and the young man happily ate it up. 

When night came, Jeff peered in on Evan in Milo’s bed. Evan was still up, having carried some client folders to bed, his muscular upper torso peeking out of the covers. His feet hung well off the mattress, kicking in the air. Jeff could see…well, himself peering through Milo’s face now. Except this was different. Jeff considered himself professional, experienced but he’d never think of himself as studious. He had been a subpar student with tanking grades, but he saw it in Milo's face countless times. Now Evan wore Milo’s trademark expression, the brow pinch, the tight jaw. All easier to spot with a face chiseled from granite, and scruff goring along it.

Jeff went to bed. Shucking his shirt and pants as he typically slept in his underwear. Lights off, he climbed into bed, eyes back on the ceiling. He was sure his thoughts would carry him to sleep. Seconds, minutes, and even hours passed. His mind was quiet, but it wasn’t restless. A knock on his open door broke him free of his thought-ravine. Jeff picked his head up, no one had knocked on his door at night in years. Standing there was Evan, one hand cupping his bare crotch. After all, Jeff liked to sleep in his underwear and Evan hadn't worn any.

“I couldn’t fall asleep…and then I grew, again.” Evan admitted. It was pretty obvious because Jeff’s chest pelt had broken out across Milo’s body, giving Evan furry tits and a warm layer over his abdomen. Then he added a bit quieter, “Also, it was sad laying in Milo’s room without him there.” That stung because Jeff hadn't actually considered that when he simply just expected Evan to sleep in Milo’s room. 

With a wordless grunt, Jeff threw open the covers on the opposite side of him and patted the bed. Evan walked in with a waddle. His junk, not exactly contained even by his large hand.

“Thank you,” Evan said, slipping into the bed, face on the pillow. Both their bodies fit comfortably in the king-sized mattress. After a few minutes and nothing but silence, Jeff turned his head toward Evan. Evan was still awake and staring at him. There they were. Two of the same man in his own bed, sharing it with himself. Neither knew what to say, and nothing they could say would make it better. But lying there with another person, who could understand the situation was nice. Jeff wouldn’t remember who fell asleep first, only how good it was to not go to sleep alone that night.

—

Milo had gone to live with his mother; that was the official story Jeff shared around town. No one would ask for more details as they all understood Jeff and his ex-wife were not close. Let them assume Milo left due to an argument or some such. Meanwhile in his depression, Jeff’s twin brother, Evan had stepped in to look after him.  CGI Labs had reached a settlement with the duo, part of which included getting Evan set up with a new life. The lab was willing to pay it, as in their eyes the knowledge they had obtained was priceless. That is to say they saw bigger dollar signs than the ones they were losing.  

As for Evan he wanted his life as Jeff back or as much of it as he could get. Jeff took him to apply for an open position at his gym. He took a picture of Evan on their way out. Asking him to turn. Evan did so begrudgingly, having already been forced to take his shirt off by curious female gym goers. Jeff wondered why he hadn’t taken more photos of Milo when he had the chance.

Evan had aced his interview of course, shocking the owner that he was just as knowledgeable as his ‘brother’. Jeff and Evan fell into a pattern of waking, going to work, coming back and hanging out in the house. Sat on the couch, they’d talk about the latest football game and Evan would just throw in plays certain teams should have made to win. Jeff's mind didn’t work that way. He couldn’t really get caught up in real time on plays for people to do. Evan, however, was always locked in. He was learning, and reapplying information at an accelerated rate. This had been their only form of destressing. 

Though never stated, it was obvious how uncomfortable Jeff was leaving the house with Evan. The main reason Jeff helped get a job wasn’t to get him out; it was because he couldn’t feed the two of them on one paycheck. Subconsciously, the two seemed to be on the same page never quite talking about it. But slowly through work and talking, Jeff changed. He still remembers the surprised look when he asked Evan if he wanted to go to the grocery store with him. The two brothers would strut about, all eyes on them. Evan would walk about, looking at all the colors on the packaging, enthusing to Jeff about it. They’d fill the cart with their typical meals, times 2, and there’d always be some of Milo’s favorite foods and snacks thrown in there.

They’d even go to the gym, outside of work, together. Jeff would help snap photos for Evan as his visual twin posed about.  Evan was quickly gaining admiration and respect in the gym. Jeff was proud his other self was finding a way forward.

 

Milo’s room sat untouched for a while. Jeff and Evan had shared the same room with no complaints, dressing and undressing in front of each other. Their routine was saying ‘good morning’ to the other as their internal clocks woke them up in unison. But eventually Jeff did find the strength to go into Milo’s room and start packing his son’s stuff into boxes. He made a silent promise with everything he touched to buy the exact same thing if Milo ever asked for it. Evan didn’t help; he knew it was something Jeff needed to do alone to be fully at peace. A month’s project at the pace Jeff went, but it did get done. 

“That’s the last of it,” he came up from the basement wiping his hands.

“Great, proud of you man. How do you feel?” Evan asked from the couch, snacking on ice cream.

“Better. Lighter. Like Milo would be okay with this.” Jeff smiled and it was genuine. He truly felt it deep in his heart. 

“Well, I got you something,” Evan handed over a velvet box. 

Jeff opened it, finding a gold heart locket, with a picture of Milo inside. The man didn't even have the words he just put it on. Then he tackled Evan on the couch thanking him. Evan had to raise his ice cream bowl to not have it smushed.  But even with the new space in the house the brothers preferred their current sleeping arrangements. Evan continued to excel at work and even played a part in updating their PT uniforms.

 

 

It’d be a day like any other, Jeff and Evan with clients in the middle of sets, when a peculiar commercial began to play. A father and son arguing, a coach and athlete fighting, friends arm wrestling. A light flashed across all the scenes as each character’s body shifted into their respective scene partners.

Then the voice over.

“Have you ever considered life from someone else's perspective?  Well, now you can. At Connected Growth Innovations Labs, we pride ourselves on moving humanity forward. Let’s grow together.”

Evan and Jeff would connect eyes across the gym shaking their head the same words muttered under their breaths.

“Those Fucks.”