**EPISODE EIGHTY-FIVE**
**THE QUESTION BEFORE THE QUESTION**
**Part Twenty-Six: THE THING THAT EXISTED BEFORE MILO**
---
The knock...
came again.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Milo stood in darkness.
He couldn't see.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't move.
But...
he could hear.
Something was knocking.
Not on a door.
Not on a wall.
Not on a book.
It was knocking...
from inside the sound itself.
Milo whispered...
"Who's there?"
Silence.
Then...
a fourth knock.
Milo closed his eyes.
"Show yourself."
Nothing.
Then a voice whispered...
"You already saw me."
Milo opened his eyes.
There was nothing.
The voice continued.
"Before you knew how to see."
Milo swallowed.
"Are you the thing before the first question?"
The darkness answered...
"No."
Milo frowned.
"Then what are you?"
A pause.
Then...
"I am what existed..."
Another pause.
"...when there was no need for a question."
Milo's heart stopped.
---
1. BEFORE WHY
A tiny light appeared.
Not in front of Milo.
Behind him.
Milo slowly turned.
There was a child standing there.
A very small child.
Barefoot.
Silent.
Holding a blank piece of paper.
Milo stared.
"You."
The child looked up.
"Me?"
"The boy."
The child smiled.
"I've been waiting."
"For me?"
"No."
The child looked past Milo.
"For the question."
Milo turned.
Nothing.
He looked back.
The child was closer.
Milo stepped away.
"Who are you?"
The child shrugged.
"I don't have a name."
"Everyone has a name."
"Not everyone."
"Then what should I call you?"
The child thought.
Then answered...
"Before."
Milo froze.
"Before what?"
The child smiled.
"Exactly."
The blank paper in his hand suddenly changed.
Words appeared.
BEFORE THERE WAS A STORY...
The child looked at Milo.
"...there was a silence."
The paper changed.
BEFORE THERE WAS SILENCE...
The child continued...
"...there was a choice."
Milo whispered...
"Who made it?"
The child shook his head.
"No one."
Milo stared.
"Then how was it made?"
The child pointed at Milo.
"You did."
---
2. THE CHOICE THAT HAD NO CHOOSER
The darkness cracked.
Milo fell through.
He landed...
nowhere.
There was no ground.
Yet he stood.
Around him...
were millions of empty spaces.
Each one shaped like a world.
A world without people.
A world without time.
A world without language.
A world without death.
A world without birth.
A world without stories.
Milo walked between them.
"What are these?"
The child followed.
"Choices."
"But nobody chose them."
"That's why they're still here."
Milo stopped.
One empty world began glowing.
Inside it...
he saw Diana.
But she wasn't human.
She was light.
Another world.
Diana was a queen.
Another.
She was a child.
Another.
She was never born.
Another.
She was the author.
Another.
She was the reader.
Milo whispered...
"How many Dianas?"
The child answered...
"As many as there are ways to remember her."
Milo looked at him.
"And how many Milos?"
The child smiled.
"You're still counting?"
Milo looked around.
He suddenly understood.
The empty worlds weren't possibilities.
They were...
memories.
Memories of worlds that had never happened.
Milo whispered...
"Who remembers them?"
The child looked at him.
"You."
Milo shook his head.
"I don't remember."
The child smiled sadly.
"That's why you were made."
---
3. THE FIRST MEMORY
A sound came from behind Milo.
Footsteps.
Milo turned.
Diana was walking toward him.
But...
she looked younger.
Much younger.
She stopped before him.
"Milo."
He stared.
"Diana?"
She smiled.
"Not yet."
Milo frowned.
"What?"
"You haven't met me yet."
Milo stepped closer.
"But I know you."
"You remember me."
"Yes."
She shook her head.
"That's different."
Milo's chest tightened.
"How?"
Diana touched his face.
"Knowing someone is seeing them."
She touched his chest.
"Remembering someone is carrying them."
Milo stared into her eyes.
"Then why do I remember you?"
Diana whispered...
"Because I asked you to."
"When?"
"Before you became Milo."
The world stopped.
Milo's voice disappeared.
Diana leaned closer.
"You promised."
"What did I promise?"
"That if I ever disappeared..."
She smiled through tears.
"...you would remember me."
Milo whispered...
"I did."
Diana nodded.
"You always do."
Then...
she disappeared.
Milo reached for her.
"Diana!"
Nothing.
The child stood beside him.
"She wasn't real."
Milo turned angrily.
"Don't say that."
The child shook his head.
"I didn't say she wasn't important."
Milo stared.
The child continued...
"Real and important aren't the same thing."
---
4. THE ROOM WITHOUT TIME
A door appeared.
Milo opened it.
Inside...
was a room.
A table.
Two chairs.
A clock.
No walls.
No ceiling.
No floor.
Just...
two chairs.
One was empty.
The other...
had Milo sitting in it.
Milo stared at himself.
The other Milo looked older.
Much older.
He had scars across his face.
His hands trembled.
He was writing something.
Milo approached.
"What are you writing?"
The older Milo didn't look up.
"The first sentence."
Milo froze.
"What sentence?"
The older Milo finally looked at him.
"The one you keep trying to escape."
Milo looked at the paper.
There was only one word.
MILO
Milo frowned.
"That's my name."
The older Milo shook his head.
"No."
"Then what is it?"
"An instruction."
Milo stepped backward.
"An instruction for what?"
The older Milo whispered...
"Become."
The word appeared on the page.
BECOME MILO.
Milo stared.
"Who wrote this?"
The older Milo smiled.
"You did."
Milo shook his head.
"I wasn't born."
"Exactly."
"Then how could I write it?"
The older Milo leaned back.
"Because writing doesn't require a writer."
Milo frowned.
"Then what does it require?"
The older Milo answered...
"Something that wants to exist."
---
5. THE HUNGER TO EXIST
Milo looked at the empty chair.
"What sat there?"
The older Milo's expression changed.
"Don't ask."
Milo stepped closer.
"What sat there?"
The clock began ticking.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The older Milo whispered...
"The first reader."
Milo froze.
"But you said there was no reader before the story."
"There wasn't."
"Then how could there be a first reader?"
The older Milo looked at the empty chair.
"Because the first reader didn't read a story."
Milo swallowed.
"What did they read?"
The older Milo pointed at the blank wall.
"Nothing."
Milo stared.
"They read nothing?"
"No."
"They read themselves."
Silence.
Milo understood.
The first reader had no book.
No page.
No writer.
No character.
Only...
awareness.
And awareness...
wanted an answer.
Milo whispered...
"So the first question came from the first reader."
The older Milo nodded.
"And what did they ask?"
The clock stopped.
The room became completely silent.
The older Milo looked directly into Milo's eyes.
"They didn't ask why."
Milo's blood ran cold.
"Then what did they ask?"
The older Milo whispered...
"Is anyone there?"
---
6. THE ANSWER
The room disappeared.
Milo was standing inside the reader.
Not the reader's room.
Not the reader's mind.
The reader itself.
There was no body.
No face.
No hands.
Only awareness.
Milo could feel it.
Something alone.
Something waiting.
Something afraid.
Then...
the first question appeared.
IS ANYONE THERE?
Milo watched.
Nothing answered.
The question remained.
The universe remained empty.
The reader waited.
Nothing.
Then...
the reader asked again.
IS ANYONE THERE?
Still nothing.
Again.
IS ANYONE THERE?
Again.
Again.
Again.
The question multiplied.
Millions.
Billions.
Until the emptiness itself...
could no longer remain silent.
Something answered.
One word.
YES.
Milo froze.
The universe began.
Stars appeared.
Worlds appeared.
Time began.
Death appeared.
Birth appeared.
Language appeared.
Stories appeared.
Readers appeared.
Writers appeared.
Characters appeared.
Milo watched everything happen.
Then he whispered...
"Who said yes?"
No answer.
He asked again.
"Who?"
A voice came from behind him.
"I did."
Milo turned.
The reader stood there.
Ordinary.
Human.
Afraid.
Familiar.
The same reader from before.
Milo stared.
"You."
The reader nodded.
"I answered."
"But who were you?"
The reader smiled.
"The first person who wanted not to be alone."
Milo's heart tightened.
"And the universe..."
"Was the answer."
---
7. THE FIRST LIE
Milo looked around.
"Then everything exists because someone didn't want to be alone?"
The reader shook their head.
"That's the first lie."
Milo frowned.
"Then what's the truth?"
The reader stepped closer.
"The universe wasn't created to answer the question."
"Then?"
"It was created..."
A pause.
"...to keep the question alive."
Milo froze.
The reader continued.
"If the question ended..."
The worlds around them began disappearing.
"...everything would end."
Milo looked at the collapsing worlds.
"So the story continues because the question continues."
"Yes."
"And the question is..."
The reader smiled.
"Is anyone there?"
Milo looked horrified.
"Then why did you create me?"
The reader shook their head.
"I didn't."
"Who did?"
"You did."
Milo froze.
Again.
The same answer.
Always...
him.
The reader pointed toward the collapsing universe.
"You became the answer."
Milo whispered...
"To the question?"
"No."
"Then what?"
The reader looked into his eyes.
"To the loneliness."
---
8. THE MILO BEFORE MILO
The darkness opened.
Milo saw himself.
Not human.
Not a character.
Not a writer.
Not a reader.
Just...
a presence.
A tiny awareness floating inside nothing.
Alone.
Terrified.
Listening.
Then...
it heard something.
A question.
IS ANYONE THERE?
The tiny awareness answered.
YES.
The universe appeared.
Milo watched himself become the first answer.
Then the answer became a thought.
The thought became a story.
The story became a character.
The character became...
Milo.
Milo whispered...
"I wasn't created."
The reader nodded.
"You condensed."
"Into what?"
"Into someone who could remember."
Milo stared.
"Remember what?"
The reader answered...
"That you were never alone."
Milo's eyes filled with tears.
"Diana."
The reader nodded.
"Her too."
"Tarzan."
"Yes."
"The writer."
"Yes."
"The children."
"Yes."
"The first Milo."
"Yes."
"All of them..."
"Are pieces of the same answer."
Milo looked around.
"Then why do they keep dying?"
The reader smiled sadly.
"Because answers change."
---
9. THE LAST QUESTION
The universe stopped collapsing.
Everything became still.
The reader stepped toward Milo.
"There is only one thing left."
"What?"
"The last question."
Milo's heart began beating faster.
"What is it?"
The reader didn't answer.
Instead...
they handed Milo a blank page.
Milo looked at it.
"There's nothing here."
"Exactly."
"What am I supposed to write?"
"Nothing."
Milo frowned.
"Then why give it to me?"
"Because the first question created everything."
A pause.
"The last question must decide whether everything should continue."
Milo stared at the page.
"So I have to choose."
The reader smiled.
"No."
Milo looked up.
"You just told me I had to decide."
"I said the question decides."
"Then who asks it?"
The reader stepped backward.
"You."
Milo looked at the blank page.
A sentence slowly appeared.
MILO WILL ASK THE LAST QUESTION.
Milo waited.
Another sentence.
MILO WILL ANSWER THE LAST QUESTION.
Milo's face tightened.
"No."
The sentence flickered.
MILO REFUSES TO ANSWER.
Milo smiled.
"That's better."
The reader shook their head.
"No."
Milo looked up.
"Why?"
"Because refusing to answer..."
The reader pointed toward the page.
"...is still an answer."
Milo's smile disappeared.
The page changed.
THEN WHAT WILL YOU DO?
Milo stared.
For a long time...
he said nothing.
Then...
he placed the blank page on the ground.
"I'll ask another question."
The universe trembled.
The reader's eyes widened.
"No."
Milo looked at them.
"What?"
"You can't."
"Why?"
"Because there is nothing before the last question."
Milo smiled.
"Then I'll ask the question before it."
The entire universe...
went silent.
---
10. THE QUESTION BEFORE THE QUESTION
Milo lifted his head.
He looked into the darkness.
He looked beyond the readers.
Beyond the writers.
Beyond the characters.
Beyond the stories.
Beyond the universe.
Beyond the first question.
And he asked...
"What was here..."
A pause.
"...before anyone asked anything?"
Nothing.
The reader disappeared.
The worlds disappeared.
The pages disappeared.
Diana disappeared.
Tarzan disappeared.
The first Milo disappeared.
The writer disappeared.
Even Milo...
began disappearing.
But before he vanished completely...
something answered.
Not a voice.
Not a person.
Not a god.
Not a reader.
Not an author.
Something older.
Something that had never needed to exist.
It whispered...
"Nothing."
Milo closed his eyes.
"Then why did everything begin?"
The answer came immediately.
"Because nothing..."
A pause.
"...wanted to be asked."
Milo opened his eyes.
The darkness cracked.
A gigantic eye appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
Not readers.
Not watchers.
Something else.
Something that had been looking...
before there was anything to look at.
The voice returned.
"You have remembered the beginning."
Milo stared.
"Who are you?"
The voice answered...
"The question that existed before questions."
Milo's blood froze.
"What question?"
The eye opened completely.
And for the first time...
the darkness itself seemed afraid.
The voice whispered...
"Should there be anything at all?"
Milo couldn't breathe.
Because he suddenly understood.
The first question...
IS ANYONE THERE?
...had not created the universe.
It had only continued something...
that had already begun.
Something older.
Something deeper.
Something that had asked...
whether existence should exist.
Milo whispered...
"Then who answered?"
Silence.
Then...
a tiny child's voice came from behind him.
"I did."
Milo slowly turned.
The boy with the bleeding knee...
was standing there.
But now...
he had no face.
No eyes.
No mouth.
Only...
a blank page where his face should have been.
Milo stepped backward.
"You."
The boy nodded.
Milo's voice trembled.
"You're the one who answered."
The boy raised one finger.
A word appeared on his blank face.
YES.
Milo stared.
Then another word appeared.
BUT...
The boy slowly raised his second finger.
A second word appeared.
SOMETHING ANSWERED ME.
Milo froze.
"What?"
The boy pointed behind Milo.
Milo turned.
There was a door.
Not inside his chest.
Not in the hallway.
Not in the story.
Not in the universe.
A door...
standing inside nothing.
And from behind it...
came three knocks.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Milo whispered...
"Who is behind it?"
The boy looked at him.
Then...
the blank page on his face changed.
One sentence appeared.
THE FIRST AUTHOR.
Milo stared.
"But the first author was never written."
The boy smiled.
The sentence changed.
THAT IS WHY YOU HAVE NEVER MET THEM.
Milo stepped toward the door.
His hand reached for the handle.
The boy grabbed his wrist.
"Don't."
Milo looked at him.
"Why?"
The boy's blank face changed again.
Four words appeared.
BECAUSE THEY ARE YOU.
Milo froze.
The door handle turned...
from the other side.
And a voice whispered through the darkness...
Milo's own voice.
"Open the door."
Milo stared.
The boy began crying.
Not tears.
Ink.
Black ink streamed down his blank face.
Milo whispered...
"Why are you crying?"
The boy answered...
"Because..."
A fifth knock.
"...this is the first time..."
A sixth.
"...you are going to meet..."
A seventh.
"...yourself."
The door opened.
And standing on the other side...
was Milo.
But not the Milo who had entered.
Not the first Milo.
Not the replacement.
Not the remembered Milo.
Not the future Milo.
Not the reader.
Not the author.
This Milo...
was smiling.
And behind him...
stood an infinite number of doors.
Each one...
containing another Milo.
The smiling Milo looked directly at him.
Then whispered...
"Which one of us..."
A pause.
"...do you think is the original?"
Milo couldn't answer.
Because every door opened at once.
And every Milo...
looked at him.
Then they all spoke together.
"There never was an original."
The universe screamed.
The page turned black.
One final sentence appeared.
THE FIRST AUTHOR WAS NOT THE ONE WHO WROTE MILO.
Another sentence.
THE FIRST AUTHOR WAS THE ONE WHO ASKED FOR MILO.
Then...
a final word.
WHY?
Milo stared at it.
And somewhere beyond the page...
something answered.
"Because I needed someone..."
Silence.
"...to ask me."
**TO BE CONTINUED...**
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :Maximus.
©All Rights Reserved