Milo Moon: It Never Happened (5 page)

‘Oh you’re joking.’

‘Not only that, but for some unknown reason he sent this one back to his original lodgings.’

‘Oh, that’s ridiculous. The whole process can go seriously wrong then. You can’t have them half transformed and then sent back to the same location. It has to be to the staging quarters.’

‘Well, you and I get to clean up the mess then, Doreen,’ Hilda said.

‘Right then, leave him to me. Do you want to wait, or do you want me to call you when Moon here is ready?’

‘I might go and grab a decent coffee and a bite to eat, if that’s all right? I’ll be back in an hour or so.’

‘Okay, no problem. See you then.’

Milo felt his body being lowered from the ceiling and then stopped in a horizontal position about three feet from the floor. He then glided through the door of the ward, with the nurse beside him. He looked up at her.

‘Hello,’ he said.

Apparently she didn’t hear him, or he only imagined he spoke, because she didn’t reply.

After quite a long float, his body was directed through a door and then into a machine that seemed remarkably familiar. Just like the one at the oddly numbered doors. There was no doubt in Milo’s mind that he was going to receive the front-loading washing machine experience for the second time today. As with anything new, the second time is always a little less impressive and daunting, so he was ready for a little head spinning and mild nausea. He wondered if his pizza was going to continue to reside intact in his stomach though.

He was floating silently in the same gassy liquid and started the familiar turning head over heel, spinning and twisting, but never touching the sides of whatever it was. He still couldn’t see any walls, edges, floors or anything that resembled firmness, except for the room itself. He was at the very pale green stage. He knew pale blue would be next and then the vague off-white to finish. The one major difference this time around was that he could still clearly hear the nurse talking to someone. He couldn’t see the someone, but did get a flash of the nurse from time to time during his tumbling.

‘You’ll have to make sure he’s fully erased, Leonard. George Smithe cocked this one up this morning,’ she said.

‘Right, Doreen. I’ll do a second scan before re-loading,’ he replied.

‘What’s he getting?’ she asked casually.

‘Umm, let me see here. Ah yes. Michael Fischer. Thirty-six. Grade C. Semi-independent. Air and atmosphere. Mechanical maintenance. Repro-positive,’ Leonard read from his file.

‘Not so bad then,’ Doreen commented, and went about checking something that was glowing in her hand.

Milo understood everything except repro-positive. He had no idea what that meant, but the rest sounded all right to him. He had seen more than enough glowing and semi-transparent things in one day not to be surprised by the nurse’s hand holding a glowing device. It was probably something like a thermometer, he thought. He was not surprised either by going from the very pale green stage and then to the pale blue, but was, when it then went back to very pale green again. That must be Leonard’s double scan in action, he thought. Milo presumed that the vague off-white stage, when it arrived, would be when he became Michael Fischer. Mechanical maintenance man for air and atmosphere. It all sounded quite acceptable.

‘He’s just going back in for a second scan, Doreen. Are his stats okay?’ Leonard asked.

‘All normal. Just a bit high on tixomixo-maxochloride, but that’s common with second scans. His latency levels are a bit loose, but his reality metabolism is moving down quite normally. I’ll keep an eye on his metabetasluce memory cells just in case.’

‘Oh, and his myseeyanextazip cell division speed too. That’s where we’ve had a couple of problems recently. Tell me if it gets above seventy-one.’

‘Okay. Will do.’

‘That’s funny,’ Milo thought to himself. He didn’t hear anything this morning when he was put through the same multi-coloured wash cycle. This time he could hear every word as clear as a bell. He wondered if he should think this was odd. He tried waving at Doreen, as his body reached a gyration point where he was facing her. She didn’t respond. He tried yelling out.

‘Hello! I’m on the rinse cycle!’

There was no reaction from Doreen at all. He gave up on Doreen and thought about his pizza. It seemed to be perfectly happy and secure in his stomach and digestive system. He then started to wonder how it had appeared so magically on his kitchen table.

As it turned out, spinning around and twisting in something akin to a front-loading washing machined turned out to be a very conducive environment for solving unsolvable mysteries about pizzas, among other things. George had told him, when he had coffee with him this morning that a new chimeryon would be taking his place as he was going to become a formyon; and that the new chimeryon was going to take responsibility for the cat. Also that the new chimeryon was due in about forty minutes. So, from this he started to imagine that a new chimeryon had arrived at his flat after he had left with George. The new chimeryon probably forgot to keep the door closed and the cat got out, and as it was moving day for the new chimeryon, he bought his own wardrobe of clothes and tossed out all of his brown clothes from under the mattress. Then he probably changed the calendar too.

Plus, it was Wednesday – long shift day. So if the new chimeryon had also taken his nuts and bolts job, he would have been at work when Milo returned to his flat. Milo stopped his thinking process just for a minute to self-congratulate himself on his powers of deduction. The last problem was still the first problem. The pizza. Where the hell did the pizza come from? As he was returning to the pizza conundrum, the gassy semi-liquid was returning to the pale blue stage for the second time. Not long now before the vague off-white, Michael Fischer stage.

Milo tried to calculate the time of the day, his shift, his time of leaving with Hilda Harpinger and the retained heat of the pizza. He was sure the pizza wasn’t on the table when he first arrived back. So it must have been delivered when he was in the bathroom being fascinated by his reflection in the mirror, or when he was sleeping in his bedroom. The door was unlocked, as usual, so it would have been an easy delivery. What about money? Any pizza man worth his salt would never leave a home delivered pizza without being paid. Unless the money was on the table when he had arrived home? His attention was taken by the one hundred percent increase in chairs, so he hadn’t even glanced at the table. The money must have been on the table. So the pizza would have been ready and waiting for the new chimeryon when he got home from his shift. It was perhaps large nuts and bolts today, so it would have been reasonably good fun for the chimeryon’s first day. He would have the very small one’s tomorrow. That would test his patience, he thought. But tonight unfortunately, he would go hungry.

The gassy semi-liquid was starting to change at last. Milo was very pleased with himself. All conundrums solved, just in time to be wiped clean and turned into Michael Fischer, mechanical maintenance man and formyon. He was quite excited now, and waited for his future to arrive.

‘His myseeyanextazip cell division level is at seventy-two,’ Doreen said, with a very slight tinge of urgency.

‘Oh, that’s not too high. Can’t do much now anyway, as he’s entering re-processing now,’ Leonard replied.

Milo heard the exchange and waited impatiently. Finally, the vague off-white stage arrived and the pale blue disappeared. He did feel something. He wasn’t totally sure of what it was, but it was certainly something. He felt he was floating a little more than during the pale blue stage, and started to have a vague understanding of air-conditioning, while filtration and re-circulation of breathable re-oxygenated air followed shortly behind. A similar comprehension of thermal dynamics and ducting seemed to appear from nowhere and populate his brain.

‘Leonard, his myseeyanextazip cell division level is at seventy-eight,’ Doreen said, with some concern. ‘His tixomixomaxochloride levels are lowering though. Sixty-five.’

‘Too late now. I’ll check when we’re finished with him. Should only be a few minutes. As long as his metabetasluce memory cells are showing zero it should be okay,’ Leonard said, with a degree of authority and certainty.

Milo suddenly had a strange feeling of being quite confident and wonderfully well, considering how he had felt during the same process earlier in the day. His pizza was safe, and he started to think he was someone called Michael Fischer. Yes, he thought to himself. My name is Michael Fischer and I work as a mechanical maintenance man for air and atmosphere. I live in an apartment in Regal Street and I am married to Claire. I need to be at work early tomorrow morning, as there is an emergency leak to repair. He knew his wife Claire worked in the Information Office. All was so clear. Including his cat, Cindy, and twenty-two Brown Street. Everything else Milo Moon was, was also still very clear. As he started to float from what resembled a front-loading washing machine and take a more steady and vertical position, he wondered if he really should be able to think he was Milo Moon, albeit with quite a strong Michael Fischer presence at the same time. He thought he had solved all the conundrums for the day, with the mystery pizza puzzle.

‘Hi Hilda, you’re just in time. He’s nearly finished,’ Doreen said, as Hilda entered the room after her coffee and bite to eat.

‘All okay then with our friend?’ she asked.

‘Seems fine. Just need Leonard to run his confirmation check. Should only be twenty minutes or so.’

‘Great. Then I can get him out of here and get home myself. I’m gonna kill George tomorrow for this.’

‘He’s ready for stabilising, Leonard.’

Milo felt himself lying on a half bed, half table sort of thing. Something like in a doctor’s surgery. He could clearly see Doreen, Hilda and Leonard gathering around him.

‘Don’t worry Michael, I’m just going to check your pulse and temperature,’ Doreen said.

‘Very well,’ Milo said.

‘Myseeyanextazip?’ Leonard asked.

‘Normal. Sixty-five.’

‘His tixomixomaxochloride level?’

‘Back up to seventy-five.’

‘Metabetasluce memory cells?’

‘Minus two.’

‘Good. No problems at all then,’ Leonard confirmed. ‘Get him ready for a confirmation scan.’

‘Shouldn’t be too long now, Hilda,’ Doreen said, as she started to wheel Milo out of the room.

‘Okay, I’ll wait in reception until he’s ready.’

Milo saw Hilda walking away and looked up at Doreen, who was pushing his half table, half bed. He decided as there seemed little else to do, he would enjoy his view of her slightly more than generous breasts bouncing gently in time with her steps. His bouncing reverie was suddenly disturbed by being slid into a very white, cylindrical and cold machine. All he could see was the inside of the tube, which was covered in very small grey blobs about the size of his little finger nail. All of a sudden, they illuminated and turned a bright lemon colour. Not bright enough to have to close his eyes in a hurry, but bright all the same. He decided to close his eyes anyway – he really had seen enough today.

He had almost fallen asleep, when he was startled by the bright lemon lights being extinguished, and his being dragged from the machine. He was very happy to find Doreen’s breasts gently bouncing above his head again. All too soon, she wheeled him back into his original single ward and told him to get up and get ready to go home. He immediately thought that his birthday probably hadn’t finished with surprising him just yet. The other thought that entered his head, apart from realising it was still Wednesday, was that his wife Claire must be worried. He was happy that he had fed Cindy. He would check on him tomorrow. He thought he might also try and find his
‘Joe Your Friendly Neighbourhood Butcher’
calendar while he was there.

‘Hello Michael, I’m Hilda. I’m here to take you home.’

‘Oh, that’s nice. Nice to meet you Hilda.’

‘Are you sure you’re all right now, Michael?’

‘Fine. Why?’

‘Well, you had us all a bit worried. You got yourself trapped in a carbon dioxide exhaust duct this morning. You passed out, but luckily your workmates got you out before any serious harm it seems.’

‘That probably explains why things are a bit of a blur,’ Milo said, and immediately realised he shouldn’t have any memory of Milo. Something had gone wrong.

‘Well, let’s get you home. I’m sure Claire will be worried sick,’ Hilda said.

‘She knows then?’

‘Oh don’t worry, Michael, I rang her myself this morning just after you were admitted. I’ve kept her updated all day. I rang her a few minutes ago and told her we would be on our way soon.’

‘That’s very thoughtful of you. She does worry I know. Is she okay?’

‘She’s fine Michael. Just anxious to have her husband home.’

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Milo said, and wondered what he should do.

‘Are you ready then?’ Hilda asked.

‘Ah, yeah. Sure.’

‘Err, Michael?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m Milo, and I don’t think we should be together in here.’

‘Well, nice to meet you, Milo. I think you’re right. What happened?’

‘Long story Michael. I’ll tell you later.’