**EPISODE EIGHTY-ONE**
**THE READER WHO WAS NEVER BORN**
**Part Twenty-Two: THE MAN ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PAGE**
---
Darkness...
again.
Not the darkness they had known.
Not the darkness between worlds.
Not the darkness behind the words.
This darkness...
was watching.
Milo stood alone.
No Diana.
No Tarzan.
No writer.
No old man.
No children.
No boy.
Only...
the page.
And the other Milo.
The one who reads.
He stood a few steps away.
Holding the book.
Milo stared at him.
"Where are they?"
The other Milo smiled.
"Who?"
Milo's voice hardened.
"Diana."
Nothing.
"Tarzan."
Nothing.
"The writer."
Nothing.
"The others."
The other Milo tilted his head.
"You mean the characters?"
Milo froze.
"They're not characters."
The other Milo smiled.
"That's what they told themselves."
Milo stepped forward.
"Give them back."
The other Milo looked down at the book.
"I didn't take them."
"Then where are they?"
He opened the book.
A page turned.
There was Diana.
Standing in a white room.
Another page.
Tarzan.
Eating a banana.
Another.
The writer.
Holding his pen.
Another.
The old man.
Sitting beside a fire.
Another.
The children.
Running through a forest.
Another.
The boy.
Standing beside the first sentence.
Milo stared.
"They're alive."
The other Milo nodded.
"Of course."
"Then why can't I reach them?"
The other Milo closed the book.
"Because..."
He looked at Milo.
"...you're reading them from the wrong side."
Milo frowned.
"What does that mean?"
The other Milo walked closer.
"It means..."
He raised the book.
"...you've been trying to escape the story."
He touched Milo's chest.
"When you were supposed to understand it."
Milo stepped backward.
"Understand what?"
The other Milo whispered...
"Who is holding the pen."
Milo looked at the pen.
It was still in his hand.
His fingers tightened.
"I am."
The other Milo laughed.
"No."
Milo stared.
"Then who?"
The other Milo pointed.
Not at himself.
Not at Milo.
Behind him.
Milo slowly turned.
Nothing.
Then...
a sound.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Something was writing.
But there was no page.
No hand.
No pen.
Only the sound.
Milo whispered...
"Who's there?"
The writing stopped.
A sentence appeared in the darkness.
MILO ASKED WHO WAS THERE.
Milo stared.
The other Milo smiled.
"You see?"
Milo shook his head.
"No."
The sentence changed.
MILO SHOOK HIS HEAD.
Milo clenched his teeth.
"Stop."
The sentence changed.
MILO SAID STOP.
The other Milo laughed.
Milo turned toward him.
"You think this is funny?"
"No."
He smiled.
"I think it's inevitable."
Milo looked at the page.
"What do you want?"
The other Milo answered...
"I want you to read."
"Read what?"
"The first page."
Milo looked down.
The book opened.
The page was blank.
He waited.
Nothing.
The other Milo said...
"Read it."
"There's nothing there."
"Exactly."
Milo stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
The other Milo whispered...
"It means you're finally looking at the beginning."
---
2. THE FIRST PAGE
Milo touched the blank page.
The moment his fingers touched it...
everything stopped.
No breathing.
No darkness.
No sound.
No time.
Milo couldn't move.
Then...
a tiny dot appeared.
Black.
Perfect.
Alone.
Milo stared at it.
The dot moved.
One inch.
Then another.
It became a line.
The line curved.
The curve became a letter.
Milo watched.
A.
The letter disappeared.
Then...
W.
Then...
H.
Then...
Y.
Milo's heart tightened.
WHY.
The first question.
The same question.
The one that had existed before God.
Before the universe.
Before the first sentence.
Milo whispered...
"You're back."
The page answered.
NO.
Milo frowned.
"Then what are you?"
The page remained blank.
Then...
another word.
BEFORE.
Milo stepped closer.
"Before what?"
Nothing.
Then...
BEFORE THE QUESTION.
Milo froze.
The other Milo whispered...
"Keep reading."
Milo looked at him.
"There was something before the first question?"
"Yes."
"What?"
The other Milo smiled.
"You."
Milo stared.
"Me?"
"Not you."
He paused.
"The possibility of you."
Milo's mind went cold.
The page began filling.
Not with sentences.
With images.
A child.
A man.
A woman.
A forest.
A house.
A city.
A planet.
A universe.
All appearing...
then disappearing.
Milo watched.
"What is this?"
The other Milo answered...
"Possibilities."
"Possibilities of what?"
"Existence."
The images multiplied.
Thousands.
Millions.
Billions.
Every possible Milo.
Every possible Diana.
Every possible Tarzan.
Every possible ending.
Every possible beginning.
Milo saw himself dying.
Then living.
Then never being born.
Then being born as someone else.
Then becoming the writer.
Then becoming the old man.
Then becoming the reader.
Then becoming...
nothing.
Milo stepped backward.
"Stop."
The images stopped.
The page showed one final possibility.
A Milo...
standing alone.
Holding a pen.
Writing...
MILO FINCH.
Milo stared.
"That's me."
The other Milo shook his head.
"No."
"Then who?"
The other Milo pointed at the page.
"That's the first Milo."
Milo's face went pale.
"The first?"
"Yes."
"What happened to him?"
The other Milo closed the book.
"He finished the story."
Milo's heart stopped.
"Then why am I here?"
The other Milo smiled.
"Because finishing it..."
He leaned closer.
"...was the mistake."
---
3. THE MILO WHO FINISHED
The darkness cracked.
A new world appeared.
Milo stood inside it.
A room.
A desk.
A lamp.
A single sheet of paper.
And someone sitting at the desk.
Milo walked closer.
The person turned.
Milo stopped.
It was him.
Older.
Tired.
His face covered with scars.
His eyes...
empty.
The older Milo looked up.
"You shouldn't be here."
Milo whispered...
"Who are you?"
The older Milo laughed.
"You already know."
Milo stepped closer.
"You're me."
"Yes."
"The first Milo?"
The older Milo nodded.
Milo stared at the paper.
"What did you write?"
The older Milo didn't answer.
Milo looked down.
One sentence.
THE END.
Milo froze.
"You finished it."
"Yes."
"What happened?"
The older Milo looked at him.
"Everything stopped."
Milo swallowed.
"And then?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
The older Milo nodded.
"No next sentence."
"No next world."
"No next episode."
"No next question."
He looked toward the darkness.
"There was no tomorrow."
Milo felt a chill.
"So why did you start again?"
The older Milo smiled sadly.
"I didn't."
Milo frowned.
"Then who did?"
The older Milo pointed at him.
"You."
Milo stared.
"No."
"You asked what happened next."
"I wasn't here."
"Not this version."
Milo stepped backward.
"Then how?"
The older Milo answered...
"Every Milo asks."
Silence.
"The first Milo."
"The second."
"The hundredth."
"The millionth."
"All of you."
Milo whispered...
"We are the same."
"No."
The older Milo shook his head.
"You are the question..."
He looked at the paper.
"...repeating itself."
Milo looked at the sentence.
THE END.
Then...
the words began moving.
THE END.
became...
THE END?
Then...
THE END WHAT?
Then...
WHAT NEXT?
Then...
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?
The older Milo closed his eyes.
"No."
Milo stared.
The sentence grew.
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?
WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THAT?
WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THE LAST?
WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THE END?
WHAT HAPPENS AFTER NOTHING?
The page trembled.
The older Milo shouted...
"STOP READING!"
Milo looked at him.
"Why?"
The older Milo screamed...
"BECAUSE THAT'S HOW IT STARTED!"
The room shattered.
---
4. THE QUESTION THAT READ ITSELF
Milo fell.
Not downward.
Sideways.
Through sentences.
He passed:
WHY?
WHO?
WHEN?
WHERE?
HOW?
WHAT?
Every question...
opened another world.
He saw Diana.
Then lost her.
Saw Tarzan.
Then lost him.
Saw the writer.
Then lost him.
Saw the old man.
Then lost him.
Saw the boy.
Then...
the boy looked directly at Milo.
"Milo!"
Milo reached.
"Wait!"
The boy screamed...
"Don't answer!"
Milo stopped.
"What?"
The boy pointed behind him.
A giant question mark...
was approaching.
Not a symbol.
A creature.
Its curved body was made of sentences.
Its dot...
was an entire universe.
Milo whispered...
"What is that?"
The boy looked terrified.
"The Question."
"Which question?"
The boy shook his head.
"The one that asks itself."
The question mark opened.
Inside it...
was an eye.
The eye looked at Milo.
And spoke.
"Why are you reading?"
Milo froze.
The boy shouted...
"Don't answer!"
Milo closed his mouth.
The question waited.
"Why are you reading?"
Silence.
Milo said nothing.
The question moved closer.
"Why are you reading?"
Milo remained silent.
The question changed.
"Why are you not answering?"
Milo stepped backward.
The boy grabbed his hand.
"Don't."
Milo whispered...
"What if silence is an answer?"
The boy looked at him.
Too late.
The question smiled.
"Then..."
It opened wider.
"...what does silence mean?"
The universe shook.
Milo realized something.
It wasn't trying to get an answer.
It was trying to create another question.
Every answer...
was another beginning.
Every ending...
was another door.
Every silence...
was another question.
Milo looked at the boy.
"We can't win by answering."
The boy nodded.
"Then what do we do?"
Milo stared at the question.
"We stop."
The boy's eyes widened.
"Stop what?"
"Reading."
The question screamed.
---
5. THE READER WITHOUT EYES
Everything disappeared.
Milo stood in a room.
Again.
The reader's room.
But this time...
the chair was empty.
The book lay open.
No reader.
Milo walked toward it.
He stopped.
The page contained one sentence.
THE READER IS GONE.
Milo breathed.
"Good."
Another sentence appeared.
THE READER IS YOU.
Milo's heart stopped.
"No."
The sentence changed.
YOU ARE READING THIS.
Milo looked around.
"No."
Another.
YOU ARE READING THIS NOW.
Milo stepped backward.
"No."
Another.
YOU ARE THE READER.
Milo shook his head.
"I'm not."
Another.
THEN WHO IS?
Silence.
Milo looked at the book.
He suddenly understood.
The reader didn't need a body.
The reader didn't need a room.
The reader didn't need eyes.
The reader...
was the act itself.
Reading.
Every time a sentence was understood...
the reader existed.
Every time a page was turned...
the reader existed.
Every time someone asked...
"What happens next?"
the reader existed.
Milo whispered...
"So the reader can't die."
A voice answered behind him.
"No."
Milo turned.
The other Milo stood there.
"The reader can't stop."
Milo stared.
"Why?"
"Because stopping..."
The other Milo smiled.
"...would require reading the final sentence."
Milo's eyes widened.
"And there is no final sentence."
"Exactly."
Milo looked at the book.
"Then we're trapped forever."
The other Milo shook his head.
"Not forever."
"Then what?"
"Until someone writes a sentence..."
He paused.
"...that the reader cannot read."
Milo frowned.
"How?"
The other Milo looked at the pen.
"You'll have to write it."
Milo stared.
"I thought you said I wasn't holding the pen."
"You aren't."
Milo looked down.
The pen was gone.
The other Milo smiled.
"Not yet."
---
6. DIANA'S SENTENCE
A voice echoed.
"Milo."
Milo turned.
"Diana?"
The room changed.
Diana stood behind him.
Alive.
Real.
She ran toward him.
Milo caught her.
He held her tightly.
"You're here."
Diana smiled.
"I've been here."
"Where?"
She pointed toward the book.
"Inside the sentence."
Milo looked confused.
"What sentence?"
Diana whispered...
"The one you haven't read."
Milo stared at the book.
A page turned.
Blank.
Diana stepped closer.
"Don't read it."
Milo looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because it's mine."
Milo froze.
"Your sentence?"
Diana nodded.
"What does it say?"
She smiled.
"If I tell you..."
She touched his face.
"...you'll read it."
Milo understood.
"Then don't tell me."
Diana smiled.
"Good."
For the first time...
the book seemed afraid.
The page trembled.
Letters appeared.
DIANA WILL TELL MILO THE SENTENCE.
Diana laughed.
"No."
The words changed.
DIANA WILL NOT TELL MILO THE SENTENCE.
Diana laughed again.
"No."
The words changed.
DIANA WILL LAUGH.
She stopped laughing.
The page changed.
DIANA WILL STOP LAUGHING.
Diana looked at Milo.
"It can't predict what I don't choose."
Milo smiled.
"Then choose."
Diana closed her eyes.
She whispered...
"I choose not to be read."
The page went blank.
The entire universe...
stopped.
The other Milo appeared.
For the first time...
he looked afraid.
"No."
Milo turned.
"What?"
The other Milo whispered...
"She found it."
"Found what?"
"The unread sentence."
Diana opened her eyes.
"What happens now?"
The other Milo backed away.
"The story..."
He swallowed.
"...can't see you."
Milo stared.
"Diana?"
She smiled.
"I'm still here."
"But the story can't read you?"
"No."
Milo looked at the blank page.
Then at Diana.
"Then you're free."
Diana shook her head.
"No."
She took his hand.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because you are still being read."
---
7. THE PEN CHOOSES
A pen appeared.
It floated between Milo and Diana.
Black.
Simple.
Old.
The writer's pen.
Milo reached for it.
The moment he touched it...
a voice whispered.
"Write."
Milo froze.
"Who said that?"
The other Milo.
"Write."
Milo looked at him.
"What should I write?"
The other Milo smiled.
"Something unreadable."
Milo stared at the blank page.
Diana whispered...
"Something the story cannot predict."
Milo thought.
He lifted the pen.
The page waited.
Milo wrote...
I.
The universe trembled.
Then...
stopped.
The other Milo stared.
"What are you doing?"
Milo wrote another letter.
A.
Then...
M.
Then...
N.
Then...
O.
Then...
T.
The words formed.
I AM NOT...
The page shook violently.
The other Milo screamed...
"STOP!"
Milo continued.
I AM NOT...
A...
CHARACTER.
The universe cracked.
Diana stepped closer.
The sentence began burning.
The other Milo shouted...
"You can't write that!"
Milo looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because..."
He stared at the sentence.
"...if you're not a character..."
His voice trembled.
"...then I don't know what you are."
Milo smiled.
"Neither do I."
The page turned black.
The sentence disappeared.
The other Milo vanished.
Diana grabbed Milo.
"What happened?"
Milo looked around.
"I don't know."
Then...
a new sentence appeared.
NOT A CHARACTER.
Milo stared.
The sentence continued.
NOT A READER.
Another.
NOT A WRITER.
Another.
NOT AN ERROR.
Another.
NOTHING.
Milo's heart stopped.
The word...
NOTHING...
began expanding.
Diana whispered...
"Milo."
He looked at her.
The word swallowed the room.
The world.
The book.
The pages.
The questions.
Everything.
Then...
the word changed.
NOTHING...
became...
SOMETHING.
Milo stared.
Diana whispered...
"No."
Another change.
SOMETHING...
became...
SOMEONE.
The page turned.
And a face appeared.
Milo's face.
But not his.
Not the other Milo's.
A third.
A fourth.
A thousand.
Millions.
Every Milo...
looking at him.
Every one...
holding a pen.
Every one...
writing.
Milo whispered...
"How many are there?"
The answer came from all of them.
"One."
Milo froze.
They spoke together.
"Only one."
Diana stepped backward.
"What does that mean?"
The Milos smiled.
Then answered...
"We are the same question."
---
8. THE FIRST READER
The pages began turning.
Fast.
Too fast.
Milo saw everything.
Every episode.
Every world.
Every death.
Every resurrection.
Every joke.
Every banana.
Every question.
Every ending.
Every continuation.
But now...
he saw something else.
A child.
Sitting alone.
Before a blank page.
No writer.
No universe.
No reader.
Just...
a child.
The child held a pencil.
Milo recognized him.
The boy with the bleeding knee.
Milo whispered...
"The first reader."
The child looked up.
But this time...
his knee wasn't bleeding.
He was smiling.
Milo stepped closer.
"You started everything."
The child nodded.
"I wanted to know what happened next."
"And you created us."
The child shook his head.
"No."
"Then what did you create?"
The child looked at the blank page.
"Expectation."
Milo's face changed.
"The thing before the first sentence."
The child nodded.
"Someone expected something to happen."
"Who?"
The child pointed at Milo.
Milo stopped.
"Me?"
"Not you."
The child smiled.
"Everyone."
The blank page began filling.
EXPECTATION.
Then...
ATTENTION.
Then...
READING.
Then...
MEANING.
Then...
STORY.
Milo stared.
"So the story wasn't written."
The child shook his head.
"It was noticed."
Milo whispered...
"And once it was noticed..."
The child finished...
"...it couldn't disappear."
Silence.
Milo looked at Diana.
"What do we do?"
Diana smiled.
"Notice something else."
Milo frowned.
"What?"
She looked at the blank space.
"Nothing."
Milo remembered.
Nothing was not empty.
Nothing was a possibility.
A possibility could become something.
Something could become a question.
A question could become a story.
And a story...
could become a reader.
Milo understood.
"We need something the reader never expected."
Diana nodded.
"What?"
Milo looked at her.
"I don't know."
She smiled.
"Good."
---
9. THE UNEXPECTED SENTENCE
Milo lifted the pen.
The entire universe watched.
The other Milos watched.
The child watched.
The question watched.
The reader watched.
Milo began writing.
Not a prediction.
Not an ending.
Not a beginning.
Not an answer.
He wrote...
I DON'T KNOW.
The universe trembled.
Nothing happened.
Milo continued.
AND THAT'S OKAY.
The pages stopped.
The question disappeared.
The other Milos vanished.
The child smiled.
Diana took Milo's hand.
The reader...
was silent.
Milo waited.
Nothing.
No correction.
No prediction.
No continuation.
He whispered...
"Did it work?"
Diana smiled.
"I don't know."
Milo laughed.
"Good."
Then...
a voice came from somewhere.
Not behind them.
Not ahead.
Inside the page.
"I don't know either."
Milo froze.
Diana froze.
The child froze.
Milo looked at the blank page.
A single word appeared.
UNKNOWN.
Milo stared.
Then another.
UNREAD.
Then another.
UNWRITTEN.
Then...
UNEXPECTED.
The universe took a breath.
For the first time...
the story did not know what came next.
Milo smiled.
"We did it."
Diana shook her head.
"No."
Milo looked at her.
"We didn't finish the story."
She smiled.
"We made it uncertain."
Silence.
Then...
a tiny sound.
Scratch.
Milo's smile disappeared.
The pen in his hand moved.
He fought it.
"No."
The pen touched the page.
A letter appeared.
N.
Milo screamed.
"STOP!"
Another letter.
E.
Diana grabbed his arm.
"Milo!"
Another.
X.
Then...
T.
Milo stared.
NEXT.
The word appeared.
Milo's heart sank.
"No."
The page changed.
NEXT...
became...
NEXT WORLD.
The floor vanished.
Diana screamed.
Milo grabbed her.
The child disappeared.
The white space collapsed.
And something...
opened.
Not a door.
Not a page.
An eye.
A gigantic eye...
behind the universe.
Milo stared into it.
The eye blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then...
it spoke.
Not in words.
In certainty.
"I remember you."
Milo froze.
Diana whispered...
"Who is it?"
Milo couldn't answer.
Because the eye...
was looking directly at him.
And behind the eye...
was another eye.
And behind that...
another.
An endless chain.
Each one...
watching the one before it.
Milo suddenly understood.
The reader wasn't outside the story.
The reader wasn't inside the story.
The reader...
was reading another reader.
Who was reading another reader.
Who was reading another reader.
Forever.
Milo whispered...
"There's no outside."
The eye smiled.
"Correct."
Milo stepped backward.
"Then where does it end?"
The eye answered...
"It doesn't."
Milo clenched the pen.
"Then what is beyond the reader?"
The eye went silent.
For a long moment...
nothing happened.
Then...
a new voice spoke.
A voice Milo had never heard.
A voice that sounded...
older than language.
"There is no beyond."
Milo looked up.
"Then who are you?"
The eye closed.
The universe went black.
And the voice whispered...
"I am the one..."
A pause.
"...who is reading the reader."
Milo's blood ran cold.
Diana squeezed his hand.
The pen began moving again.
Against Milo's will...
it wrote.
Not on the page.
Across the sky.
One sentence.
THE READER WAS NEVER THE END.
Milo stared.
Another sentence appeared.
THE READER WAS THE BEGINNING.
Then...
another.
AND THE BEGINNING...
The pen stopped.
Milo waited.
The universe waited.
Diana waited.
Then the final word appeared.
...IS READING.
Milo looked at Diana.
She looked terrified.
Behind them...
the child began laughing.
Not happily.
Not cruelly.
As if he had just remembered something impossible.
Milo turned.
"Why are you laughing?"
The child pointed upward.
Milo looked.
A new page...
was appearing in the sky.
But this page was different.
It had no words.
No sentences.
No names.
No ending.
Only...
a title.
Milo read it.
His blood turned cold.
EPISODE EIGHTY-TWO
Underneath it...
another line appeared.
THE WORLD THAT READS BACK.
Milo whispered...
"No."
Diana looked at him.
"What?"
Milo stared at the title.
"We didn't write that."
The child smiled.
"I know."
"Then who did?"
The child looked upward.
The sky cracked.
Something stepped through.
A hand.
Holding a pen.
Milo stared.
The hand was enormous.
Older than the universe.
Older than the first question.
Older than the first reader.
It lowered the pen toward the page.
Milo shouted...
"STOP!"
The hand stopped.
For one second...
everything was silent.
Then...
the hand wrote.
ONE.
Milo's heart stopped.
The hand wrote again.
TWO.
Then...
THREE.
Milo looked at Diana.
"What is it counting?"
Diana shook her head.
"I don't know."
The hand wrote...
FOUR.
FIVE.
SIX.
SEVEN.
Eight.
Milo froze.
The hand stopped.
Then...
it wrote one final number.
EIGHTY-TWO.
Milo stared.
Diana whispered...
"It knows the episode."
The hand slowly turned.
And for the first time...
Milo saw what was attached to it.
An arm.
A shoulder.
A body.
A face.
A familiar face.
Milo's face.
But not the other Milo.
Not the first Milo.
Not the reader Milo.
This Milo...
was smiling.
He looked down at them.
And whispered...
"You're finally catching up."
The universe screamed.
The page opened.
The darkness returned.
And somewhere...
far beyond the reader...
something began writing...
the first sentence...
of a story...
that had been waiting...
for Milo...
before Milo was born.
**TO BE CONTINUED...**
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :Maximus.
©All Rights Reserved