Milo Moon, Derek Haines [i can read book club .txt] 📗

we go back a bit? What does Milo Moon 35WBTR mean?” Milo asked.
“Milo Moon. That’s you. Thirty-five years old today. W is for Wednesday. And BTR. Back to reality,” Simple really.”
“Can I ask you something else George?”
“Sure Milo. What is it?”
“Can I have the chair please?”

George and Milo paused for a while as each seemed to be filing each others confusion and misunderstandings before trying to proceed with such a difficult conversation so early in the morning.

Milo decided that he now had enough courage to try and venture forward. “From the fact that you were transparent when we first met leads me to think that I probably don’t understand everything I should here. Am I right?
“Oh, I’m sorry Milo. That was rather rude of me not to check first.”
“Check what?”
“That I was fully beamed.”
“Oh,” Milo said and decided to start all over again. “Why are you here George?”
“Sorry Milo. Thought it was clear. I’m hear to take you back to reality.”
“But I am real. You are the one who was transparent remember.”
“It’s the other way around I’m afraid Milo.”
“What? You’re real and I’m not?”
“That’s right Milo. Now you understand, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Could I have some more coffee Milo? I think we might be here for a while.”

Milo thought this was a good idea too, and went 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 to Milo 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 Milo.”
“So you aren’t real either?”
“Oh, yes I am Milo. Just not here. I have been beamed into your imagined reality.”
“And you spell Smithe with an ‘E’ just to add to the confusion?”
“No Milo. 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 Milo. 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 am 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 Milo.
“Do I have a choice?”
George opened Milo’s 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?” George asked politely as Milo answered simply with a silent and open mouth.
“Probably best I read it for you then Milo,” 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 are ready for your return,” George said as Milo interrupted.
“You keep saying returned as if I have been there before.”
“Oh, you have Milo. But you’ve had your memory wiped each time. That’s normal.”
“Why do you say that’s normal George?”
“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 George?”
“Oh Milo, 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 Milo.”
“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 ear plug.
“They normally go in your ears,” Milo said.
“No Milo. Don’t be silly. It’s a mind mapper. They don’t go in your ears. 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 in 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?” Milo asked in a very blocked nose type of voice.
“A back up.”
“George?”
“Yes Milo.”
“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 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 Milo”
“I really hate Wednesdays.”
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 George?”
“Sorry no Milo,” 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 Milo. A bodily form that can accommodate a life force.”
“So what am I right now George?”
“ 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 Milo?”
“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 Milo. 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 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 to him. 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 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 wrist 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. “It’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. Don’t want you arriving in microscopic pieces now do we?” George joked but failed to get even a smile from Milo.
“So I am leaving Sootere then?” Milo asked.
“No Milo. There’s no such thing. That must be just something in your chimeryon imagination.”
“Oh George. 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 Milo. 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 Milo.”
“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 wrist band connected with 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?” Milo asked.
“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?” George asked.
“You think I’m boring, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think Milo.”
“So what happens now George?”
“Just relax Milo and enjoy the trip.”

There was a greenish bordering on a yellowish kind of flash in Milo’s kitchen. Milo 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 seated, apparently comfortably, beside him.

“I didn’t expect to be sitting down.”
“Well, it’s a long trip Milo. 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 Milo. I was sent to you last night standing in cattle class.”
“Oh, I’m very sorry George.”
“Not your fault Milo.”
“How long is the trip then George?”
“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 George. Nothing about waitress service.”
“Sorry if I mislead you Milo.”
“No, it’s okay George.”

Both sat silently. Milo thinking about the life he seemed to have left behind. And his cat. Its name was Cindy. He called it that one day at the vet. It was a cat that loved to jump on things. So he