Milo Moon: It Never Happened

by Derek Haines

  Michael arrived home to a warm hug and a kiss from Claire, who was preparing dinner. They exchanged their little stories of their days at work, before sitting down to dinner. Michael in full control of the conversation over dinner, and the quiet time later with Claire on the sofa watching a movie. They went to bed just after ten-thirty, and Milo took over.

  ‘Oh Michael!’ Claire said breathlessly. ‘Did they give you extra vitamins while you were in hospital?’

  Michael returned to the ARC Processing Centre for his check-up the next week. All was in order. He was surprised that his visit was so brief. Just a few questions from a nurse at reception about Michael, which he answered and he was finished. No mention of Milo at all.

  ‘Looks like we are stuck with each other then, Milo.’

  ‘Well, you could have told the nurse that there was a problem.’

  ‘Yes. But then what would’ve happened? We both would’ve been wiped and replaced with another life force.’

  ‘Well, if you don’t mind, I have no complaints. So long as you don’t mind me enjoying your, or is she our wife?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It’s only one body we have, so I suppose it’s okay. She is a pretty little thing though, isn’t she?’

  ‘Great minds think alike Michael.’

  ‘Oh dear Milo!’

  The days and weeks passed by, and Milo and Michael found a balance of work, life and passion as they shared a single body. Milo being the more passive and immature, except for his passion for Claire. Michael taking control of work and being very friendly, sociable and pleasantly polite. They both knew that there had been a mistake made, but as nothing had come of it, they were both happy to leave things be. They could both take advantage of sharing a formyon existence. Milo saw Cindy most days, so he felt he could ask for no more. He had seen the new Milo on two occasions. Seemed a nice enough fellow. Always dressed very smartly. He had never tried to recover his ‘Joe Your Friendly Neighbourhood Butcher’ calendar. There didn’t seem any need now that he had Claire.

  Claire was sleeping peacefully alongside Milo. He couldn’t sleep. Both he and Michael were searching their memories. Trying to find similarities and beginnings. The best either could do was to remember vague notions of memories that weren’t any more than a few months old. Milo couldn’t recall exactly when and how he got his cat. Michael couldn’t remember exactly when or how he and Claire had come to be together. Michael couldn’t remember not being in this formyon body. But Milo could. Milo could remember not being able to see behind himself. Michael couldn’t.

  They both fell asleep finally, as they tried in vain to find answers. This was hardly surprising, as they both had no idea of what questions to ask. They didn’t know that there were others, who did know what the questions were. When they made that discovery, it would be clearer why Milo and Michael were sharing their existence.

  Chapter 7 - Keeping Secrets

  A quarter or so of his ‘Joe Your Friendly Neighbourhood Butcher’ calendar was sticking out from the top of a garbage container in front of Milo’s old flat in Brown Street. He was stunned to see it so long after having become Michael. He looked at it a little closer. There was some writing on the bottom corner, just under the 30th of June.

  ‘You can see, and be seen. Later. ‘E’.’

  Milo re-read the note, but didn’t take the calendar from the container. It was clearly left for him to notice on his way to work. No one other than Milo would have recognised the calendar, so the message was definitely for him. He started walking away sensing that he and Michael shouldn’t stay. However he immediately started to process the message. It must refer to his third eye. That was logical. A monitor. Of what though? And ‘E’. Who or what was ‘E’? Milo was almost at the gates of his control centre when he suddenly understood. Smithe with an ‘E’! George Smithe. The question that suddenly became very obvious was whether George had realised his mistake, or had he intentionally made one? It gave both Milo and Michael food for thought for the day.

  ‘So, who is George then, Milo?’

  ‘He’s the semi-transparent man, who disturbed my breakfast and then had me transferred to your body.’

  ‘Oh, that one. So, why is he contacting you?’

  ‘I’ve got no idea. Maybe he wants to correct his mistake.’

  ‘What mistake?’

  ‘Us Michael. Us!’

  ‘Right. So what should we do?’

  ‘I don’t know really. Wait and see I suppose.’

  There was no further contact from ‘E’ for some weeks. Milo had almost given up on hearing any more. He had considered that if George had in fact been responsible for him and Michael sharing an existence, he may well have been discovered or disciplined. He recalled how Hilda had commented at the hospital that George had made a number of errors recently. He could only hope that he and Michael could continue, as they were both quite content with the arrangement. They enjoyed the opportunity to share and compare what memories they had. Both had heard of the word brother, but as no one had one, it was really only a fantasy concept. For Milo and Michael, they thought they had found something akin to the concept.

  Michael arrived at work and went to his locker to suit up for his day. He noticed a Ping-Pong ball on the top shelf. He picked it up and looked at it. There were some very small letters written in a grey, and only just visible. D23b ‘E’.

  ‘Do you understand, Michael?’

  ‘Yes, it means whoever put the ball here wants me to go to D Sector, junction 23, filtration cap b.’

  ‘It must be George again.’

  ‘I suppose we’ll find out if we can get there, Milo.’

  It was late in the afternoon before Michael could go to D Sector. He had been assigned to routine maintenance in A Sector for most of the morning and used the excuse of wanting to double check on the work he had done a few weeks before to the intake manifold in D Sector. His supervisor agreed immediately, concluding that Michael was very conscientious about his work. He moved along past the manifold, some two hundred meters to reach junction 23. There were eight filtration caps in two rows of four. The caps were about six inches in diameter. He couldn’t see anything unusual, such as a note as he had expected. The filtration caps screwed onto a housing that held a filter, so Michael slowly unscrewed the second filtration cap on the top row. When he removed the cap, a small object fell to the floor of the duct. It was a small plastic tube about an inch long, sealed at both ends. He picked it up and saw a small roll of what looked like paper and removed it carefully from the tube. Recognising it immediately as actonical tempersite, a plastic film that dissolves after exposure to oxygen. It was used for temporary surgical dressings, and confidential correspondence among other uses. Michael used it himself from time to time to secure duct joints to give the applied adhesive time to set. He understood that when he had finished he would place it in filtration cap a, as that was delivering pure oxygen and cap b was absorbing carbon dioxide.

  Michael sat down on the duct floor and started to unroll the actonical tempersite. He read the note.

  It was not an accident that you, Milo and Michael, now share the same existence. You live in an artificial place. One designed and run by humans. While we will never escape, I believe we can stop the terrible suffering of those who live, and will live in Sootere. Sootere is from French. Sous Terre. Underground. That is where we exist. Will you help me? ‘E’.

  Milo recalled George saying something about problems with quality control, and some not being fully wiped. He also recalled Hilda saying that George had made a few other errors recently. Could it be that Milo and Michael weren’t the only ones sharing an existence? And what did he mean by never escape? Escape from where or what? Michael left the actonical tempersite unrolled and unscrewed filtration cap a. He put the message inside the cap and screwed it back into place. He did the same to cap b. The actonical tempersite would only last a couple of hours being exposed to close to one hundred percent oxygen, so he was sure that it would dissolv
e and never be found.

  Michael made his way back to central control, with both he and Milo considering what they had just read. George Smithe wanted them to help destroy Sootere. There was nothing to do other than consider what George had written. There was no way to contact him, so it would necessitate waiting again for any further contact. In the meantime, they could only consider what to do when the time came.

  That evening, Claire sensed that Michael was not himself. She had asked him if he was feeling unwell, and he had said he was fine. But she sensed he was worrying about something. When he went to bed and rolled over immediately, after saying good night, she knew he was not his usual self. She knew his job was far from being one hundred percent safe, and he’d had two previous accidents to this last one. The gasses that he worked with were dangerous, and she hoped he hadn’t been exposed to something that was affecting him.

  She needn’t have worried. In a few days he was back to normal, so she thought nothing more of it. Michael and Milo had decided to wait until the next contact from George before making any decisions. It was still unclear as to what he wanted from them anyway. Ten days later, the contact from George came. Strangely, it was delivered quite openly. A letter addressed to Mr. M. Fischer. The letter asked that he present himself for a follow-up check in relation to his accident the few months before. He was given the address, which was in the ARC Processing Centre. The letter was on an official ARC letterhead and signed by George Smithe. The appointment was for the following Tuesday. Michael noted the date and time, and Milo was happy it wasn’t on a Wednesday.

  *****

  ‘Good morning, I’m Michael Fischer. I have an appointment with Mr. George Smithe,’ Michael told the nurse at the reception desk of the ARC Processing Centre. As at his previous check up, he noticed the ominous guards appearing behind him after he had entered the building. He thought it smelled like a hospital, but the guards made it feel like a prison. He also wondered why George Smithe had arranged to meet him here, after all the secrecy of the first two messages.

  ‘Ah yes, Mr. Fischer. He won’t be a moment. Would you like to take a seat?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Michael said, and went to a small row of seats to the side of the reception.

  ‘I don’t like this place.’

  ‘Nor do I, Milo.’

  ‘Do you remember being about the washing machine?’

  ‘The what, Milo?’

  ‘The blue, green and white cycles?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘That’s how we came to be together. In a washing machine sort of thing, with Doreen and Leonard at the controls. They were supposed to wipe me, but somehow they managed to add you.’

  ‘Milo?’

  ‘Yes Michael.’

  ‘Who’s Doreen?’

  ‘Right. You don’t remember what I remember. I’ll fill you in on the details later then.’

  They waited nervously for ten minutes before a nurse came and asked him to follow her. They did. She escorted him to a small office on the second floor, and told him to take a seat and then closed the door on leaving. Within a few seconds the door burst open, and George Smithe came trundling in with an armful of files.

  ‘Good morning, and sorry to have kept you waiting. Been a busy morning. Anyway, I’m George Smithe. I don’t believe we have met, eh, Mr. Fischer,’ George said, as he glanced at a file.

  ‘I believe not,’ was all Michael could say.

  ‘Well, its all rather standard I’m afraid. Sorry to have had you come all this way, but I need to complete some details in your file, and conduct a quick scan to clear you from your unfortunate accident.’

  ‘All right then,’ Michael said, as he noticed George open a file with a small note that Michael could clearly read. ‘Hello Milo,’ it read.

  Michael looked up at Smithe and half smiled and less than half nodded.

  ‘Shall we get on then?’ George asked.

  ‘Eh, yes,’ Michael agreed.

  ‘Just going to ask you some questions for the file,’ George started, and proceeded to ask Michael about Claire, his work, his apartment and some of his colleagues at work. He also asked him some technical questions relating to his job.

  ‘So you’re feeling well in general, Mr. Fischer? No headaches, feelings of sadness, nausea, light headedness or loss of appetite?’

  ‘No, I feel fine,’ Michael said.

  ‘Right then, that all seems in order. So, let’s get you along for a final scan and you can get on back to work,’ George said, and rose from his desk. ‘Come with me then,’ he said, and Michael rose and followed him through the door and down a white corridor. The doors they passed were white and unmarked and Michael wondered how anyone could navigate in such a building. Everywhere looked the same as anywhere else. After a few minutes walk, George Smithe stopped at a door and opened it.

  ‘How do you know this is the right door?’ Michael asked.

  ‘I have help,’ Smithe replied, as he showed Michael a small device that was flashing and vibrating in his hand.

  Michael had expected to see a nurse or someone in the scanning area. However, this time it was only George in the room. George closed the door, and pressed a keypad that seemed to arm the door. There was a small, dull red lamp oscillating above the door now.

  ‘Right, sit down both of you. We need to have a little chat,’ George said, and stunned Michael and Milo with his directness and change of personality.

  ‘We can speak here?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Yes, quite happily in fact. These rooms are lined to protect the rest of the building from the radioactive pulses that are used during scanning and processing. So our third eyes are not transmitting now,’ George said.

  ‘Transmitting?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Clever little devices. They transmit what you see and hear. They are connected to your brain, so you get the benefit of rear vision. Nice for you, but even nicer for the people who control you.’

  ‘I, eh, I don’t…...,’ Michael started to say, before George interrupted him.

  ‘I’m sure you don’t understand, but you know that you and Milo were not supposed to be together.’

  ‘Yes, we had surmised that.’

  ‘Right gentlemen, we don’t have much time, so I’ll tell you why I need your help,’ George said, with half a smile that didn’t convey any degree of happiness.

  ‘There was an accident here about three years ago. It was right on the edge of Sootere. Two men fell through a weakened area in a building project just above us. They were as shocked to see me, as I was to see them. In the time it took me to help them get back up to their level, we had time to talk. Luckily, surveillance is very weak at the edges of Sootere and after a few weeks, I was sure I hadn’t been monitored. I didn’t know what to do about it at the time, but now I believe it is time to do something.’

  ‘The men weren’t from Sootere?’ Michael asked.

  ‘No. From Switzerland.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘It’s what we’re under. The two men I met were working on some kind of new machine being built just above us. A large circular machine as I understood, which surrounds Sootere, but is under another layer of buildings they called sern or something like that. They told me that this sern was a huge scientific research organisation. They didn’t know much about it because they were only engineers from outside this sern organisation. Just working on digging the tunnels. But they did say it was very high security and very secretive. ‘

  ‘Were they formyon?’

  ‘No, humans, Michael. The same as us.’

  ‘What do you mean, human like us? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, it took me sometime to consider what they told me. I tried to find any information that would help me understand, and after months and months of hunting through old files, medical records and a bit of guess work, I came to a very disturbing conclusion.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We are prisoners here. All of us. And our bodies are
used for medical and scientific research.’

  ‘But it can’t be true. We have lived here all our lives,’ Michael said.

  ‘What you remember of them, that’s all. When were you born?’ George asked.

  ‘Born?’ Both Michael and Milo had no idea of what the word meant.

  ‘When you were created.’ George met the silence of their reply and continued. ‘Your minds are wiped and reprogrammed regularly. So you have no memory. Mine only goes back a few years. When I took you from your flat on your birthday, you were drugged, Milo. You didn’t go anywhere. But you thought you did. You’ve never left there.’

  ‘The elevator? Scales? The doors?’ Milo asked.

  ‘Drugs, Milo.’

  ‘And your semi-transparent appearance at my door?’

  ‘All hallucinations. You are constantly being drugged.’

  ‘The glasses of water?’ Milo asked.

  ‘Exactly Milo. All the water and food here is constantly drugged. But you were given an extra large dose by me, and again when Hilda took you in, so you were compliant and would have limited memory of your treatment. We’re all being given chemicals and drugs.’

  ‘But we are formyon?’ Michael asked.

  ‘No Michael and Milo. Your body is human. The same body that populates the world above us. The men I met were human. They told me of things we have never known.’

  ‘Such as?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Sun light, mothers, animals, sky and a single life,’ George answered. He was greeted with a puzzled look. He tried his best to explain, as some of the concepts he mentioned were still a mystery to him as well.

  ‘Look. We don’t have much time, so I can’t tell you everything today. But I need to tell you what I discovered about a year ago.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I had a small accident with the mind mapper of one of my clients.’

  ‘The pink ear plug thing?’ Milo asked.

  ‘Yes Milo, you remember. Well, when I took the mind mapper from the file, I accidentally dropped it in my glass of water when I passed it to my client. I picked it out of the glass, and didn’t think anything of it and I did the back up and the data was transferred as normal. But when he came to be treated and given a new mind image, his old image stayed in place alongside the new mind image. I corrected my mistake by treating him again, and with a dry mind mapper the next time, it all worked as normal and when he was given a new mind image the second time, he retained only the new image.’