Milo Moon: It Never Happened (2 page)

‘Oh,’ Milo said, and decided to start all over again. ‘Why are you here George?’

‘Sorry, I thought it was clear. I’m hear to take you back to reality.’

‘But I am real. You’re the one who was transparent, remember?’

‘It’s the other way around I’m afraid.’

‘What? You’re real and I’m not?’

‘That’s right. Now you understand, don’t you?’

‘No.’

‘Could I have some more coffee? I think we might be here for a while.’

Milo thought this was a good idea too, and went back happily to make more coffee. As he did, George tried to explain as best he could that he had been sent to collect Milo to take him back to reality, as there was now a place available. He also did his best to explain that he had been held here, in a state of imagined reality for thirty-five years and apologised profusely for the delay, as well as for the mix up with the BTR notification. Milo apologised for the coffee.

‘George? Are you trying to tell me that I’m just a figment of my own imagination?’

‘That’s a pretty good analogy.’

‘So you aren’t real either?’

‘Oh, yes I am. Just not here. I’ve been beamed into your imagined reality.’

‘And you spell Smithe with an ‘E’ just to add to the confusion?’

‘No. Like I said, that was my father’s fault. He was a bit of a snob really.’

‘George?’

‘Yes, Milo.’

‘Would you mind leaving so I can go back to bed and start this Wednesday all over again? I think I really should have a shower this time around.’

‘Sorry, no time. There’s a longer waiting list for a place in imagined reality, so I have to get you back to reality
asap
, as someone will be taking your place here within the hour.’

‘I’m sure this question will have an answer I don’t understand, but I’ll try. Where will this, eh, replacement come from?’

‘The Life Force Bank of course. Where else would you imagine they come from?’ George said, in a rather astonished tone.

‘I knew I’d be sorry.’

‘Would you like me to run through the details of your BTR program?’ George asked.

‘Do I have a choice?’

George opened his file and a strange gooey, semi-liquid dribbled onto the table and then formed itself into a very neat glowing green pyramid, with strange flashing symbols.

‘Would you prefer to read it yourself?’ he asked politely, and Milo answered with a silent and open mouth.

‘Probably best I read it for you then,’ George said, before continuing. ‘You’ll be beamed back with me to Alpha Reality Control. We call it ARC for short. There you’ll be given a full reality check to make sure you’re ready for your return,’ he said, and Milo interrupted.

‘You keep saying returned, as if I have been there before.’

‘Oh, you have. But you’ve had your memory wiped each time. That’s normal.’

‘Why do you say that’s normal?’

‘Saves on confusion. We’ve had a few, who fell under our guard and didn’t get a full wipe. But we’re improving our quality control.’

‘So am I going to reincarnate or something like that?’

‘Oh, nothing of the sort. We don’t like all that mumbo jumbo.’

‘Mumbo jumbo?’ Milo almost shouted. ‘Mumbo jumbo? You come here at an ungodly hour of the morning. Turn up only half prepared and half visible, and tell me you’re going to take me to reality! You must think I’m crazy. Look, let me buy one of your magazines or newspapers or make a donation. Whatever it is you’re selling, I’ll buy one and then you can leave me to my miserable Wednesday in peace.’

‘Finished?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good, let’s move on then. Put this in your right nostril,’ George said, as he handed Milo something that looked remarkably similar to a pink foam earplug.

‘They normally go in your ears.’

‘No, don’t be silly, it’s a mind mapper. They don’t go in your ears because it wouldn’t work. Look, let me help you.’

‘I think I can manage myself,’ Milo said, and then wondered why in hell’s name he was putting this strange object up into his nose. As he placed it near the entrance to his right nostril, an odd force managed to snatch it from his fingers and suck it up into his nostril. Within a second, the semi-liquid pyramid started flashing and turning a rather boring brown colour.

‘What’s it doing?’ he asked, in a very blocked nose type of voice.

‘A back up.’

‘George?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can I go back to bed?’

Milo watched as the pyramid turned from fawn to light brown to ochre and towards a nuggety gold brown colour. Suddenly it returned to a vile green and then suddenly, the pink earplug looking mind mapper dropped from his right nostril with a plop sound that foam makes when it hits something at speed; like a table. It then seemed to be magnetically drawn across the table, and around coffee mugs, and disappeared into the semi-liquid pyramid.

‘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.’

‘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.’