Milo Moon: It Never Happened

by Derek Haines

  ‘George?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I really hate Wednesdays.’

  Chapter 2 - One Way Please

  George was very busy with the pyramid. Holding his left hand above it and wiggling his left ring finger in an odd jerky circular motion.

  ‘You’re an alien, aren’t you?’

  ‘Sorry no,’ George said, without losing his concentration. ‘I’m the same as you were, and are going to be again. A formyon,’ and continued to concentrate on his pyramid.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A formyon. A bodily form that can accommodate a life force.’

  ‘So what am I right now?’

  ‘A chimeryon; a life force without a formyon. If you weren’t a chimeryon, you’d be an encephalon and held in the Mind Bank.’ George looked up, as he seemed to have finished doing things to the pyramid with his left ring finger. At the same moment, the pyramid returned to a gooey liquid state and dribbled itself back into the tatty green file. George closed the file then continued. ‘Anymore questions before we move on?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Are you sure I can’t just go back to bed and start again. I feel rather tired and confused all of a sudden.’

  ‘Oh don’t worry. That’s just the effect of the mind mapper. Disorients some chimeryons. You’ll feel much better soon,’ George said dismissively. ‘Are you ready then?’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘To get going. We can’t hang around here all day. An encephalon will be arriving in less than forty minutes to take on your chimeryon status,’ George said, as if his patience was starting to wear thin just a little.

  ‘Should I pack? Feed my cat? Put out the garbage? Make my bed?’

  ‘No, no need. The new encephalon will look after all of that for you.’

  ‘How kind,’ was all Milo could say, as he wondered what the hell was happening. He was really waiting for his alarm to ring and discover he had been dreaming all this nonsense. He closed his eyes and waited and hoped.

  ‘Milo! Wake up now,’ George said, after watching Milo’s pathetic attempt at pretending to be sleeping while standing up and leaning against the refrigerator. ‘Would you like to sit down?’ George asked, in a kind tone, as he stood up, and Milo accepted.

  ‘What’s that?’ Milo asked, with his eyes wide open, as George produced what looked like a small glowing amber viper from his pocket. It leapt from George’s palm and affixed itself to Milo’s left arm by circling his wrist and then snapping its mouth shut on its own tail. Milo tried to touch it, but his finger went straight through the glow, and all he could feel was his own skin.

  ‘I have one too, Milo,’ George said, as he pulled up his coat sleeve. ‘They’ll make sure we don’t get lost.’

  ‘Lost? Why would we get lost?’

  ‘Because we are going to be beamed over a distance of twenty-two light years to ARC. We don’t want you arriving in microscopic pieces now, do we?’ George joked, but failed to get a smile from Milo.

  ‘So I’m leaving Sootere then?’

  ‘No. There’s no such thing. It’s just something in your chimeryon imagination.’

  ‘Oh I’m sure I won’t like this, but, if I’m not on Sootere. Where am I?’

  ‘Coma Sentarus. It’s a black hole inside the Ludicratious Nebula. It’s one of four chimeryon holding areas ARC controls.’

  ‘Alpha Reality Control?’

  ‘Well done. I knew you would understand,’ George said with a smile. ‘Right, let’s have a couple of glasses of water so we don’t get to dehydrated.’

  ‘Should I go to the toilet?’

  ‘Oh, please don’t be silly.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Milo said, in between gulps of water.

  George rinsed the glasses and put them neatly on the side of the sink. Then he stood next to Milo. His wristband connected to Milo’s with a small lime green flash. Milo looked down in surprise.

  ‘I suppose that’s it then?’

  ‘Probably,’ George replied.

  ‘What about my friends?’

  ‘Do you have any?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘Sorry I asked,’ Milo replied, with a hint of disappointment.

  ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ George asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘An over friendly cleaning lady?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sexy magazines?’

  ‘Definitely not!’ Milo said indignantly.

  ‘So what are you worried about?’

  ‘You think I’m boring, don’t you?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I think.’

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘Just relax and enjoy the trip.’

  There was a greenish, bordering on a yellowish kind of flash in Milo’s kitchen. He felt his body, which he had now been partially convinced was not all that real, elevate above the refrigerator and head towards the ceiling. George’s reassuring, smiling face was beside him. Locked at the wrist by glowing vipers. Within a few seconds, he found himself seated in what seemed strangely like a seat in an elevator. George sitting, apparently quite comfortably, beside him.

  ‘I didn’t expect to be sitting down.’

  ‘Well, it’s a long trip. Do you think I would take you cattle class?’

  ‘What’s cattle class then?’

  ‘Economy.’

  ‘Should I say, thank you?’

  ‘Don’t thank me. You must have friends somewhere in ARC. I was sent to you last night standing in cattle class.’

  ‘Oh, I’m very sorry.’

  ‘Not your fault.’

  ‘How long is the trip then?’

  ‘A bit under four hours.’

  ‘Oh,’ Milo said, without knowing what the hell was happening to him.

  ‘Magazine, gentlemen?’

  ‘No thanks,’ George and Milo answered in unison.

  ‘You said beam. Nothing about steward service.’

  ‘Sorry if I mislead you.’

  ‘No, it’s okay.’

  Both sat silently. Milo thinking about the life he seemed to have left behind, and his cat, Cindy.

  George was wondering if his wife would still be speaking to him when he got back. He just recalled that it was their wedding anniversary the day before yesterday. He hoped her memory was as bad as his, but doubted it.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Am I real?’

  ‘Oh, really sorry. That’s something that is planted in your chimeryon imagination. To keep you happy.’

  ‘So what does a formyon look like?’

  ‘Well, sort of like you, but with more eyes and a few other improvements.’

  ‘Improvements? Sorry?’

  ‘Relax. Enjoy the trip.’

  ‘Did I get around to telling you that I think Wednesdays are really not nice days at all?’

  ‘Can’t recall you did.’

  ‘Well, from my experience they are,’ Milo said, with conviction.

  Milo noticed that from time to time, both he and George drifted into almost transparent states. Then drifted back into fully opaque forms. He was going to ask, but realised that after all that had happened in the last sixty minutes it would be quite silly to ask. He looked at his left wrist and was surprisingly reassured to see the glowing viper, still firmly gripping its own tail with its teeth. Had it been two hours ago, he wouldn’t have found it so reassuring.

  ‘So how long have you been in this line of work,’ Milo asked, in a manner that sounded cool, but smelled of desperation and mild panic.

  ‘Over thirty years. Due for a desk job soon I hope.’

  ‘Pension?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Right,’ Milo said, and silence returned for some minutes.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve done this trip a thousand times. You’ll be fine. Just a few minor adjustments and you’ll be right as rain. I promise.’

&n
bsp; ‘How many more eyes, George?’

  ‘Oh, only one. No big deal.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Oh Milo. You are full of questions. In the back of your head. Where else would you expect to put one?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Milo thought about asking more questions, but sensed George was getting quite fed up. He started to think about his cat instead. He hoped his encephalon come chimeryon replacement knew how to care for cats. He also hoped he could iron.

  ‘Good year ladies and gentlemen. If I could ask you to prepare for re-materialisation,’ an announcement, announced from seemingly nowhere. ‘Please be ready to block your ears with your thumbs and your nostrils with your little fingers, very soon.’

  ‘What happens if I don’t?’ Milo asked.

  ‘Your head explodes into micro dust.’

  ‘Think I get the idea. Thanks.’

  Milo noticed that he and George, and everything in their elevator looking cabin, was starting to go rather transparent again. He had the feeling something was going to happen soon. He could see that George had his thumbs in his ears and his little fingers firmly up his nostrils and thought he should probably do the same.

  ‘Please assume your dematerialisation position ladies and gentlemen,’ the kind and somewhat sexy sounding female announcement, announced. ‘We must inform you that your failure to assume the dematerialisation position could lead to serious health risks, including reduction to cosmic dust.’

  ‘Sounds serious,’ Milo tried to joke, with a voice that replicated someone with a serious head cold, with his thumbs and little fingers firmly lodged in his ears and nostrils.

  ‘It is,’ George replied, in the same head cold sound, just before a rather large thud and grating noise indicated that their arrival was probably underway.

  There was a minute or so of almost complete transparence that really freaked Milo out, but then all returned to a comfortable normal opaqueness, and he felt a lot better. He looked at his watch. A little difficult with his current finger and thumb position, but he managed. Eleven-thirty-five a.m. and still Wednesday. That really explained everything.

  ‘Please wait until the materialisation light is illuminated before resuming full resumption of existence,’ the same kind of somewhat sexy sounding female announcement, announced. Milo felt a little reassured.

  ‘So, we’re here then?’ he asked.

  ‘You could say that,’ George said, as Milo noticed George had changed a little.

  ‘You’ve got scales!’ Milo half screeched.

  ‘Welcome to reality, Milo.’

  Chapter 3 - Welcome to Reality

  ‘Wake up Milo, we’ve got to disembark,’ George said, as he gently slapped Milo’s face.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You feinted.’

  ‘You’ve still got scales!’ Milo said, but this time with a little less panic in his voice.

  ‘I know. So have you.’

  Milo looked at the back of his hands and immediately noticed that his skin was now composed of very small light blue scales. More like fish than snake or lizard he thought, just before he feinted again. George started all over again in trying to wake him up, and wondered why he continued in this job.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen. This is your automated cabin supervisor speaking. Please leave the beam transporter by the side exit door immediately. Dematerialisation will begin in four minutes. We remind you that we take no responsibility for lost hand luggage, bodies or body parts, after the red dematerialisation warning light is illuminated. Thank you for your understanding.’

  George manhandled Milo to his feet and managed to get his semi-conscious body near the exit door. He pushed the button and waited for it to open.

  ‘Right, come on Milo. Let’s get moving,’ George said, as he walked Milo through the door.

  ‘George?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I can see where I’ve been,’ he said, as he suddenly realised he could see the ‘Welcome to ARC’ sign in front of him at the end of a white hall, and at the same time, the door closing behind him.

  ‘So you’re awake then?’

  ‘Almost,’ he said, with no sense of surety whatsoever.

  ‘Good. Now let’s get through the EVR procedure and we can be on our way.’

  ‘Silly question I know George. But what is an EVR procedure?’

  ‘Exit Virtual Reality.’

  ‘So by that you mean we are not in real reality just yet then?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So, eh, that means what exactly?’

  ‘You’ll be de-scaled soon.’

  ‘Did I tell you that I don’t like Wednesdays?’

  For something that sounded very complex, returning to reality was really a very simple process. George and Milo walked the length of the white entry hall. Six doors were located at the end of the hall with signs above each door.

  ‘RE-ENTER HERE’

  Each door shimmered slightly, and had a silvery, almost watery translucent look to them. They were numbered from one to six, but in a jumbled order.

  ‘Why are the doors numbered five, three, two, one, four, six?’

  ‘Because they are.’

  ‘Am I asking too many questions?’

  ‘Yes.’

  George ushered Milo into door three, and George went though door six. Milo had never been in a front-loading washing machine, but imagined the sensation he was feeling after entering the door must be very similar. He was floating in a gassy liquid and turning head over heel, spinning and twisting, but never touching the sides of whatever he was in. He couldn’t see any walls, edges, floors or anything that resembled firmness. At first everything was a very pale green, and then a pale blue and now turning into a vague off-white sort of colour. He could only think that these colour changes indicated a change in cycle. Wash, rinse, and soften.

  Milo tried to look at his watch, but the face was blurred. He thought he had been spinning for a few minutes now, and was rather hoping it would stop soon, as he was starting to feel a little nausea. Luckily, before his nausea could manifest itself, he noticed that he was now almost upright, and starting to be lowered. He wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling of being lowered. Difficult to know exactly when you have no concept of up, down or sideways. There was a green light flashing just above his head, just as an announcement was made.

  ‘Please move forward, and watch your step. Welcome to ARC. We wish you a pleasant return to reality.’

  Milo carefully put out his left leg in an attempt to start walking, and was surprised to find some solidity below his foot. His right foot made the same conclusion; as did the left again immediately after that. He noticed that the gassy liquid was dissolving away, and very soon found himself standing next to George again.

  ‘All right Milo?’

  ‘Um, yes, I think so.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘George?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Where have your scales gone?’

  ‘They protect your matter when you are in beam travel.’

  ‘So, I’m not a fish then?’

  ‘No, you’re not a fish.’

  ‘But I can still see behind me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Milo turned and tried out his new eye, but found turning in circles made him dizzy, so he tried nodding his head up and down instead. Like anyone with a new toy, there was a certain novelty in having rear view, and Milo found it fascinating to be able to bend his head down and look at the floor, and at the same time see the light fitting up on the ceiling. Then he turned with his back to George and was astounded at the clarity of his new found third eye. George clearly needed a shave. He was about to think why his new eye didn’t need glasses, when he made another remarkable observation.

  ‘George?’

  ‘Yes Milo?’ George responded, in a tone of voice that was exhibiting the early signs of being totally fed up with being continually asked silly questions.

  ‘I’m wea
ring blue jeans, a black t-shirt and grey blazer.’

  ‘You’re also a little taller and you’re wearing different glasses. Anymore questions?’

  ‘Yes, just one. Is it lunchtime? I’m quite hungry.’

  ‘I’m sure there’ll be something in your refrigerator.’

  ‘Eh. Sorry?’

  ‘Come on. I’ll help you find a taxi.’

  ‘You’re not coming with me?’

  ‘No. I have another two collections to make today.’

  ‘So what will I do?’ Milo asked, as they walked towards the front of the taxi line.

  ‘Get on with life Milo. Get on with life!’

  ‘But how will I know what to do?’

  ‘You’ll be fine. The jump from chimeryon to formyon will take you a couple of days to get used to. But don’t worry, you’ll be fine. It’s not your first time you know.’

  ‘What? I’ve done this before?’ Milo asked, somewhat surprised.

  ‘Milo, you have been from encephalon to chimeryon to formyon countless times.’

  ‘So why can’t I remember doing this before?’

  ‘I told you before. You get wiped each time.’

  ‘So I’m going to be wiped again soon huh?’

  ‘Now I think you understand. Look, here’s a taxi. Jump in,’ George said, as Milo less than confidently got into the taxi. ‘Twenty-two Brown Street, thanks driver.’

  ‘But that’s my old address at home.’ Milo yelled at George from the taxi.

  ‘Have a nice day. Oh and life Milo. See you again someday maybe,’ George said, just before the taxi pulled away. Milo didn’t need to turn his head to see George going back into the ARC Welcome Centre, presumably to set off on another collection.

  ‘Been great weather the last few days,’ the driver said. ‘But it’s gonna be dark tomorrow I heard.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Milo said, and noted that taxi drivers are all the same. No matter what the state of reality.

  Chapter 4 - Seemingly Home Again

  Milo thanked the driver, and after the events of the day so far, he was not surprised to be standing in front of his flat that he had seemingly left some hours before. Entering the front door of the building he checked his mail. Nothing as usual, and then he climbed the two flights of stairs to his flat. The door wasn’t locked, also as usual. He opened the door with a little less nonchalance than he normally would have done, had it not been for George and the events of the day. Everything seemed to be the same. The two glasses George had rinsed were sitting proudly on the side of the sink.