**EPISODE EIGHTY-TWO**
**THE WORLD THAT READS BACK**
**Part Twenty-Three: THE STORY THAT REMEMBERED MILO**
---
Darkness...
again.
But this time...
Milo knew something.
Darkness was not the absence of light.
It was the absence of permission.
He couldn't see.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't hear Diana.
He couldn't hear the child.
He couldn't hear the reader.
But...
he could think.
And that frightened him more.
Because somewhere...
something was listening to his thoughts.
Milo whispered...
"Diana?"
Nothing.
He tried again.
"Diana!"
Still...
nothing.
Then...
a voice answered.
Not Diana.
Not the reader.
Not the other Milo.
A child's voice.
"Milo?"
Milo froze.
"Who are you?"
The voice giggled.
"You already asked that."
Milo swallowed.
"Where are you?"
"Behind you."
Milo turned.
Nothing.
The voice giggled again.
"Wrong."
Milo slowly turned back.
The darkness had changed.
A door stood there.
Small.
White.
With a brass handle.
Milo stared.
He had seen that door before.
Not in a world.
Not in a memory.
In a sentence.
A sentence that had never been written.
He walked toward it.
The handle moved.
Someone was opening it...
from the other side.
Milo stepped backward.
The door opened.
A boy stood there.
The boy with the bleeding knee.
But his knee...
wasn't bleeding.
Milo stared.
"You."
The boy smiled.
"Me."
"You disappeared."
"No."
"Then where did you go?"
The boy stepped through the door.
"I went back."
"Back where?"
The boy pointed at Milo.
"Before you."
Milo frowned.
"Before me?"
The boy nodded.
"Before your first memory."
Milo looked at the door.
"What is behind it?"
The boy smiled.
"Your first sentence."
Milo's heart tightened.
"I don't remember writing one."
"You didn't."
"Then who did?"
The boy looked frightened.
"That's why we have to leave."
"Leave where?"
The boy whispered...
"Before the story remembers us."
A sound came from behind them.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Milo turned.
The darkness was writing again.
But this time...
the letters weren't appearing on a page.
They were appearing in the air.
MILO TURNED.
Milo stepped closer.
The sentence changed.
THE BOY LOOKED AT MILO.
The boy's face went pale.
"It's here."
"What?"
"The story."
Milo looked around.
Nothing.
Then...
another sentence.
THE STORY LOOKED AT MILO.
Milo's chest tightened.
The boy grabbed his hand.
"Run."
They ran.
---
2. BEFORE MILO
The door slammed behind them.
Milo and the boy stood in a hallway.
Long.
Endless.
Every wall was covered with photographs.
Milo stopped.
"What is this?"
The boy didn't answer.
Milo walked toward the nearest photograph.
He saw himself.
As a child.
Then another.
Milo at ten.
Another.
Milo at fifteen.
Another.
Milo older.
Another.
Milo...
dead.
Milo stepped backward.
"These aren't memories."
The boy shook his head.
"No."
"Then what are they?"
"Predictions."
Milo stared.
A photograph changed.
Milo was standing beside Diana.
Another.
Milo was holding Tarzan.
Another.
Milo was holding the pen.
Another.
Milo was sitting in the reader's chair.
Another.
Milo was the writer.
Another.
Milo was the child.
Another.
Milo was...
the eye.
Milo whispered...
"How can one person become all of these?"
The boy answered...
"He didn't."
Milo turned.
"What?"
"The story made copies."
"Copies of me?"
"Copies of everyone."
Milo looked at the photographs.
"Why?"
The boy stared at him.
"Because the story needed someone who would continue."
Milo's face hardened.
"Continue what?"
The boy pointed down the hallway.
At the end...
stood a single photograph.
It was larger than all the others.
Milo walked toward it.
His breathing stopped.
The photograph showed...
nothing.
Just a blank white room.
In the center...
was a chair.
On the chair...
was a book.
And beside the book...
stood a woman.
Diana.
Milo whispered...
"She's there."
The boy nodded.
"Yes."
"Then let's go."
"No."
"Why?"
The boy looked at him.
"Because that's not Diana."
Milo froze.
"What?"
The photograph changed.
The woman turned.
Her face...
was blank.
No eyes.
No mouth.
No features.
Milo stepped backward.
The boy whispered...
"That's what the story remembers when it forgets someone."
Milo stared.
"Then where is the real Diana?"
The hallway went silent.
A voice answered...
"Looking for you."
Milo turned.
Diana stood behind him.
Alive.
Breathing.
Real.
Milo ran toward her.
"Diana!"
She caught him.
For a moment...
nothing existed.
No pages.
No readers.
No questions.
Only...
them.
Milo whispered...
"I thought I lost you."
Diana held him tighter.
"You did."
Milo pulled back.
"What?"
Diana looked at him.
"You lost me."
"Where?"
"In the version of the story..."
She touched his face.
"...where you chose differently."
Milo stared.
"What did I choose?"
Diana's eyes filled with fear.
"You chose to save yourself."
Silence.
Milo shook his head.
"I would never."
Diana whispered...
"That's what you said the first time."
---
3. THE FIRST TIME
Milo stepped backward.
"The first time?"
Diana nodded.
"There was another story."
"Before this one?"
"Before all of them."
Milo looked at the boy.
The boy looked away.
Milo's voice became quiet.
"How many times have we done this?"
Diana didn't answer.
"How many?"
She whispered...
"Eight hundred and one."
Milo's heart stopped.
"Eight hundred..."
"One."
Milo looked around.
The photographs began changing.
Episode One.
Episode Two.
Episode Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Then...
eighty.
Eighty-one.
Eighty-two.
But after Eighty-Two...
the numbers continued.
Eighty-Three.
Eighty-Four.
Eighty-Five.
One Hundred.
Two Hundred.
Five Hundred.
Eight Hundred.
Eight Hundred One.
Milo stared.
"Those episodes haven't happened."
Diana shook her head.
"Not here."
"Then where?"
She pointed upward.
The ceiling disappeared.
Above them...
were thousands of pages.
Each one contained a different future.
Milo saw himself.
Fighting.
Running.
Dying.
Laughing.
Crying.
Writing.
Forgetting.
Remembering.
Every possible continuation...
was already there.
Milo whispered...
"So the future is already written."
Diana shook her head.
"No."
"Then what am I seeing?"
"The futures that were abandoned."
Milo looked at her.
"Abandoned by whom?"
Diana answered...
"By you."
Milo's blood ran cold.
"Why?"
Diana looked toward the boy.
The boy lowered his head.
"Because every time Milo reaches the end..."
Diana continued...
"...another Milo begins."
Milo stared.
"Then none of us are the first."
Diana smiled sadly.
"No."
Milo swallowed.
"Then none of us are the last."
"No."
A long silence.
Milo whispered...
"Then what are we?"
Diana stepped closer.
"Attempts."
---
4. THE WORLD THAT READS BACK
The hallway suddenly disappeared.
Milo fell.
Diana fell beside him.
The boy vanished.
They landed...
on a street.
A normal street.
Cars.
Buildings.
People.
Rain.
Milo stood slowly.
"What is this?"
Diana looked around.
"I don't know."
A man walked past them.
Milo watched him.
The man stopped.
Turned.
Looked directly at Milo.
Then kept walking.
Another person stopped.
Looked.
Another.
Then another.
Soon...
everyone was staring.
Milo's breathing became faster.
"What are they doing?"
Diana whispered...
"Reading."
Milo looked confused.
"They're not holding books."
"They don't need books."
A woman nearby whispered...
"Milo."
Another person answered...
"Diana."
A child said...
"Tarzan."
An old man whispered...
"The writer."
Milo stepped backward.
"They know us."
Diana nodded.
"Yes."
"How?"
She looked terrified.
"Because this world..."
She swallowed.
"...has read the previous one."
Milo stared at the city.
The people began speaking together.
"You shouldn't be here."
"You shouldn't be here."
"You shouldn't be here."
The words echoed.
Milo shouted...
"Who are you?"
Everyone stopped.
Silence.
Then...
one man stepped forward.
He looked exactly like Milo.
Milo froze.
The man smiled.
"You."
Milo shook his head.
"No."
The man stepped closer.
"Yes."
"No."
"You've said that before."
"Where?"
The man smiled.
"In the story."
Milo clenched his fists.
"Which story?"
The man pointed toward the sky.
Milo looked up.
A massive page was floating above the city.
On it...
was written:
EPISODE EIGHTY-TWO
But beneath the title...
something else was appearing.
MILO HAS ARRIVED.
Milo stared.
Then the sentence changed.
MILO WILL ASK WHO WE ARE.
Milo's mouth opened.
The man smiled.
Milo said nothing.
The sentence changed.
MILO WILL REMAIN SILENT.
Diana whispered...
"Don't speak."
Milo nodded.
The people began whispering.
The page waited.
Milo remained silent.
Then...
the sentence changed again.
MILO WILL TRY TO BREAK THE PREDICTION.
Milo's eyes widened.
Diana grabbed his hand.
"It doesn't matter what you do."
"Why?"
"Because it reads your reaction."
Milo stared at her.
The page changed.
MILO UNDERSTANDS.
Milo looked upward.
The page changed again.
MILO IS AFRAID.
Then...
MILO IS ANGRY.
Then...
MILO WANTS TO ESCAPE.
Milo screamed...
"STOP!"
The entire city shook.
The people smiled.
The page wrote:
MILO SCREAMS.
Milo froze.
The man who looked like him laughed.
"Now you understand."
Milo turned.
"Understand what?"
The man answered...
"This world doesn't read what you do."
He stepped closer.
"It reads what you are about to become."
---
5. THE WOMAN WHO READ DIANA
Diana suddenly let go of Milo's hand.
"Diana?"
She wasn't there.
Milo spun around.
"Diana!"
Nothing.
The crowd had disappeared.
The city was empty.
Milo stood alone.
Again.
A door appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Every door...
had Diana's name on it.
Milo walked toward the nearest.
He opened it.
Diana was inside.
She was reading.
Milo whispered...
"Diana?"
She looked up.
But she wasn't his Diana.
She was older.
Her hair was white.
Her face was tired.
She smiled.
"You found me."
Milo stepped inside.
"Are you real?"
Diana laughed softly.
"That's the wrong question."
"What should I ask?"
She closed the book.
"Who is reading me?"
Milo stared.
"You?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Then who?"
She pointed behind Milo.
He turned.
A woman stood there.
Holding a book.
Milo couldn't see her face.
The woman was reading Diana.
Milo looked back.
Diana whispered...
"She's been reading me for a very long time."
Milo looked at the woman.
"Who are you?"
The woman slowly raised her head.
Her face was blank.
No eyes.
No mouth.
Only...
white skin.
Then...
two words appeared where her mouth should have been.
I REMEMBER.
Milo stepped backward.
The woman turned toward him.
Another sentence appeared.
I REMEMBER THE FIRST DIANA.
Diana froze.
The woman continued.
I REMEMBER THE FIRST MILO.
Milo's heart pounded.
Then...
I REMEMBER WHEN YOU FIRST MET.
Milo whispered...
"When?"
The woman pointed toward the floor.
A page appeared.
Milo looked down.
A sentence slowly formed.
THE FIRST TIME MILO MET DIANA...
The page stopped.
Milo waited.
Nothing.
Diana whispered...
"Don't read it."
Milo looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because..."
She stared at the unfinished sentence.
"...I don't remember what happened."
Milo's blood ran cold.
"How can you not remember?"
Diana whispered...
"Because the story deleted it."
---
6. THE DELETED BEGINNING
The woman disappeared.
The room vanished.
Milo and Diana stood in complete darkness.
Diana held his hand.
"Milo..."
"Yes?"
"Do you remember how we met?"
Milo opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Diana stared at him.
"You don't."
Milo shook his head.
"I should."
"You've remembered everything else."
"I know."
"The worlds."
"Yes."
"The deaths."
"Yes."
"The endings."
"Yes."
"Then why can't you remember me?"
Milo looked at her.
Tears filled his eyes.
"I don't know."
Diana smiled.
"Good."
Milo frowned.
"Why do you keep saying that?"
"Because not knowing..."
She squeezed his hand.
"...means the story hasn't decided yet."
A sound came from the darkness.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Milo looked upward.
A sentence appeared.
MILO DOES NOT REMEMBER DIANA'S BEGINNING.
Diana smiled.
Then...
she stepped away.
Milo grabbed her.
"No."
She shook her head.
"Let me go."
"I won't."
"You have to."
"Why?"
"Because if you hold me..."
The darkness began shaking.
"...the story will know where I am."
Milo tightened his grip.
"I don't care."
Diana looked into his eyes.
"I do."
She pulled away.
The darkness swallowed her.
Milo screamed...
"DIANA!"
Her voice came back.
"Milo..."
"Where are you?"
A pause.
Then...
"Before you."
Milo stopped.
The same words.
The boy had said them.
Milo whispered...
"What does that mean?"
Diana answered...
"It means..."
Her voice became faint.
"...I was waiting for you before you existed."
Then...
silence.
---
7. THE FIRST SENTENCE OF MILO
A single light appeared.
Milo stood before a blank page.
The pen was in his hand.
Again.
He stared at it.
"I know this."
A voice answered...
"No."
Milo looked around.
The older Milo appeared.
The first Milo.
The one who had written THE END.
Milo stared.
"You."
The older Milo nodded.
"You finally reached the beginning."
"Where is Diana?"
"Where she has always been."
"Where?"
The older Milo pointed at the blank page.
Milo frowned.
"She's not there."
"Look closer."
Milo looked.
A tiny mark appeared.
A dot.
Then another.
Then another.
The dots formed a shape.
A letter.
D.
Milo's heart tightened.
Then...
I.
A.
N.
A.
D I A N A.
Milo whispered...
"Her name."
The older Milo shook his head.
"No."
"Then what is it?"
"The first word she ever became."
Milo stared.
"What?"
The older Milo smiled sadly.
"Before Diana was a person..."
The page trembled.
"...she was a possibility."
Milo's eyes widened.
"And before I was Milo?"
"Possibility."
"Then who created us?"
The older Milo looked directly at him.
"You keep asking the wrong question."
Milo's voice became quiet.
"What's the right one?"
The older Milo answered...
"Who expected us?"
Silence.
The page turned black.
Then...
one sentence appeared.
SOMEONE DID.
Milo stared.
"Who?"
The sentence changed.
THE READER.
Milo shook his head.
"No."
Another sentence.
THE FIRST READER.
Milo remembered the child.
"The boy."
The older Milo nodded.
"No."
Milo froze.
"Then who?"
The older Milo whispered...
"His reader."
---
8. THE READER BEFORE THE READER
The universe cracked.
Something appeared beyond the page.
A room.
Inside the room...
a child.
The child was reading a book.
Milo stared.
"Another reader."
The older Milo nodded.
The child turned the page.
Inside that book...
was another child.
Reading.
Milo's breathing stopped.
Another book.
Another reader.
Another child.
Another reader.
Another.
Another.
Another.
Endless.
Milo whispered...
"So it never began."
The older Milo answered...
"No."
"Then there was never a first reader."
"No."
"Never a first story."
"No."
"Never a first Milo."
The older Milo looked at him.
"Exactly."
Milo stared into the endless chain.
"Then why do I remember being first?"
The older Milo smiled.
"Because every reader..."
He paused.
"...needs a beginning."
Milo looked at the endless readers.
"And the beginning?"
The older Milo pointed toward Milo.
"You."
Milo shook his head.
"That's impossible."
"Yes."
The word echoed.
IMPOSSIBLE.
The readers stopped.
Every book closed.
Every eye turned.
Every page became blank.
The older Milo disappeared.
Milo stood alone.
Then...
a voice spoke.
Not from the darkness.
Not from the sky.
Not from the page.
From inside Milo.
"You finally understand."
Milo whispered...
"Who are you?"
The voice answered...
"Your beginning."
Milo's eyes widened.
"Are you the first Milo?"
"No."
"The first reader?"
"No."
"The writer?"
"No."
"Then what?"
The voice whispered...
"The reason you asked."
Milo froze.
---
9. THE QUESTION BEFORE WHY
The blank page appeared again.
Milo stared at it.
One word appeared.
WHY.
Milo whispered...
"The first question."
The voice answered...
"No."
Milo frowned.
"Then what?"
Another word appeared.
SHOULD.
Milo stared.
WHY.
SHOULD.
The words moved.
WHY SHOULD THERE BE ANYTHING?
Milo's blood turned cold.
The same question that had existed before God.
Before creation.
Before existence.
But now...
Milo saw something underneath it.
A smaller sentence.
Almost invisible.
He leaned closer.
WHY SHOULD THERE BE A QUESTION?
Milo stepped backward.
The page began filling.
Questions upon questions.
Why?
Why should?
Why should there?
Why should anything?
Why should anyone ask?
Why should anyone read?
Why should anyone continue?
The page shook.
Milo covered his ears.
"Stop!"
The voice whispered...
"You can't."
"Why?"
Silence.
Milo suddenly smiled.
He understood.
The voice had been waiting for that answer.
Milo whispered...
"Because asking why..."
The page trembled.
"...creates another why."
The universe became silent.
For the first time...
the voice said nothing.
Milo smiled.
"I found the loop."
A sentence appeared.
YES.
Another.
YOU FOUND IT.
Another.
BUT YOU DIDN'T BREAK IT.
Milo's smile disappeared.
"Then how?"
The answer appeared.
YOU DON'T.
Milo stared.
"What?"
The page continued.
YOU BECOME IT.
Milo froze.
The pen in his hand began moving.
Against his will.
He fought it.
"No."
The pen touched the page.
A letter appeared.
M.
Then...
I.
Then...
L.
Then...
O.
Milo screamed.
"I'M NOT WRITING THIS!"
The pen continued.
MILO.
Then...
FINCH.
Then...
a final sentence.
MILO FINCH IS READING MILO FINCH.
Milo stopped breathing.
The sentence changed.
THE READER IS THE CHARACTER.
Another.
THE CHARACTER IS THE READER.
Another.
THE WRITER IS THE QUESTION.
Another.
THE QUESTION IS THE STORY.
Then...
everything disappeared.
---
10. THE WORLD THAT READS BACK
Milo opened his eyes.
Diana was beside him.
Tarzan stood behind her.
The writer held his pen.
The old man sat beside the fire.
The children were laughing.
The boy stood with his bleeding knee.
Milo stared.
Everyone...
was back.
He almost laughed.
"We're together."
Diana smiled.
"Yes."
Milo looked around.
"Is it over?"
Tarzan immediately answered...
"No."
Milo sighed.
"Of course."
Tarzan held up a banana.
"Also..."
He frowned.
"...this banana is reading me."
Milo stared.
The banana had two tiny eyes.
Tarzan dropped it.
"NO!"
Diana laughed.
Even the writer laughed.
For one moment...
everything felt normal.
Then...
the writer stopped laughing.
His face changed.
"Milo."
"What?"
The writer pointed at the ground.
A book lay there.
Milo approached it.
The cover was blank.
No title.
No author.
No number.
Milo opened it.
The first page contained one sentence.
WE CAN SEE YOU.
Milo froze.
Another sentence appeared.
ALL OF YOU.
Diana stepped closer.
"Who wrote that?"
Milo turned the page.
Another sentence.
YOU ARE NOT READING US ANYMORE.
Another.
WE ARE READING YOU.
Milo's heart began pounding.
The next page turned by itself.
WE HAVE READ EVERY VERSION OF YOU.
Another.
WE HAVE READ EVERY VERSION OF US.
Another.
WE HAVE READ THE READER.
The writer dropped his pen.
"No."
Milo looked at him.
"What?"
The writer whispered...
"The story has crossed the boundary."
Milo stared at the book.
"Which boundary?"
The writer looked directly at him.
"The one that was never supposed to exist."
The page turned.
A final sentence appeared.
THE WORLD IS READING BACK.
The lights went out.
Diana grabbed Milo's hand.
Tarzan screamed.
The children vanished.
The old man disappeared.
The writer disappeared.
Milo stood alone.
Then...
a face appeared on the page.
Not Milo.
Not Diana.
Not the reader.
A face he had never seen.
An ordinary face.
Human.
Confused.
Afraid.
The face looked directly at Milo.
And whispered...
"Can you see me?"
Milo couldn't move.
The face continued...
"I can see you."
A pause.
Then...
"I've been reading your story."
Milo whispered...
"Who are you?"
The face smiled.
"I don't know."
Milo's blood ran cold.
The voice continued...
"But I know something you don't."
"What?"
The face leaned closer.
"The person reading me..."
Milo stared.
"...is being read by someone else."
The page cracked.
Behind the face...
another face appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
An endless chain of readers...
each reading the one before...
each being read by another.
Milo finally understood.
There was no outside.
There was no inside.
There was no first reader.
There was no last reader.
Only...
reading.
Forever.
But then...
something impossible happened.
One face in the endless chain...
looked directly at Milo.
Not at the page.
Not at the reader.
At him.
And it whispered...
"I remember the day you were born."
Milo froze.
Diana's voice suddenly echoed from somewhere far away.
"Milo..."
He turned.
"Diana?"
Her voice trembled.
"That's not possible."
"Why?"
Silence.
Then Diana whispered...
"Because..."
A page appeared between them.
On it...
was a date.
Milo stared.
It was the date of his birth.
Underneath it...
another sentence appeared.
MILO FINCH WAS BORN.
Then...
the sentence crossed itself out.
MILO FINCH WAS NEVER BORN.
Milo's heart stopped.
Another sentence appeared.
MILO FINCH WAS WRITTEN.
Then...
MILO FINCH WAS READ.
Then...
MILO FINCH WAS REMEMBERED.
Then...
MILO FINCH WAS EXPECTED.
Milo stared.
"Which one is true?"
Diana didn't answer.
The page did.
ALL OF THEM.
Milo stepped backward.
"No."
Another sentence.
NONE OF THEM.
Milo shook his head.
"No..."
The page turned black.
One final sentence appeared.
BECAUSE MILO FINCH WAS NEVER THE PERSON WHO WAS BORN.
Milo's breath stopped.
A second sentence appeared beneath it.
HE WAS THE REASON SOMEONE NEEDED TO READ.
The darkness opened.
Something enormous moved behind the page.
Milo heard the sound of a pen.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Then...
a voice.
Older than the universe.
Older than the first question.
Older than the first reader.
It whispered...
"Now..."
A pause.
"...let's see what happens..."
Another pause.
"...when the character reads the author."
Milo looked at the pen in his hand.
It was no longer his.
Someone else...
was holding it.
Behind him.
Milo slowly turned.
And saw...
himself.
But this time...
the other Milo wasn't smiling.
He was crying.
And in his hands...
was a manuscript.
The title was visible.
Milo stared.
THE STORY THAT WAS READING MILO.
The other Milo looked up.
And whispered...
"Don't turn the next page."
Milo's hand moved toward it.
Diana screamed...
"MILO, DON'T!"
Too late.
The page turned.
And the first sentence of the next world appeared.
MILO OPENED THE DOOR BEFORE HE KNEW THERE WAS A DOOR.
Milo looked around.
There was no door.
Then...
behind him...
something knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Milo whispered...
"Who's there?"
The knocking stopped.
A voice answered...
his own.
"Me."
Milo's blood froze.
The door appeared.
Not in front of him.
Not behind him.
Inside his chest.
And slowly...
very slowly...
it began to open.
**TO BE CONTINUED...*'
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :Maximus.
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