Michael was as boring as a boring person could be. On weekdays, he'd got out of bed, brushed his teeth, read the paper with breakfast (Stocks prices? Stuff and nonsense. Nobody sensible would meddle with that) , drove to work in their reliable (if slightly scratched) Ford taking the same route he'd been taking for 20 years (The neighbours bins are still out. Why can't they bring them in when everybody else does? ) to his job at the ceral factory maintaining the machinery.

Everything had to be done just so, so the machines could work the way they should. A place for everything and everything in it's place, that's how he liked it.