**EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN**
**THE JUNGLE BEHIND THE DOOR**
---
The door remained open.
But there was no jungle beyond it.
Not anymore.
There was darkness.
A darkness so complete that Nova could not tell where the floor ended and the sky began.
He stood at the threshold.
The original human stood behind him.
Neither moved.
Neither spoke.
Somewhere inside the darkness...
water fell.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Then...
A distant bird cried.
Nova looked up.
"A jungle."
The original human shook his head.
"No."
Another sound.
Leaves moving.
Something walking through them.
"No," the man repeated.
Nova looked at him.
"Then what is it?"
The man stared into the darkness.
"A memory of a jungle."
Nova stepped forward.
The floor beneath his feet became wet.
Mud formed around his shoes.
The air changed.
Warm.
Heavy.
Alive.
The smell of rain filled his lungs.
Then...
LIGHT.
Nova was standing in a forest.
Huge trees surrounded him.
Their branches disappeared into mist.
Vines hung from impossible heights.
Rain fell through the leaves.
But there was something strange about the rain.
Every drop stopped before touching the ground.
Nova lifted his hand.
A drop landed on his palm.
For one second, he remembered something.
Not his childhood.
Not his mother.
Not the laboratory.
Not the stories.
A man laughing.
A machine exploding.
Someone shouting:
"Don't touch that!"
Nova blinked.
The memory disappeared.
"Milo."
The name came from his mouth before he knew why.
A branch cracked.
Nova turned.
Nothing.
Another crack.
Closer.
He stepped backward.
Then a figure emerged from the trees.
Tall.
Barefoot.
Silent.
Tarzan.
Nova stared.
Tarzan stared back.
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Tarzan spoke.
"You are not Milo."
Nova nodded.
"No."
"You know his name."
"Yes."
Tarzan's eyes narrowed.
"How?"
Nova looked around the jungle.
"I don't know."
Tarzan approached.
He studied Nova's face.
"You have his memory."
Nova frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you have been here before."
"I haven't."
Tarzan shook his head.
"Your body has not."
Nova felt a chill.
"But something else has."
Tarzan pointed toward the ground.
There were footprints in the mud.
Two sets.
One belonged to Tarzan.
The other...
belonged to Nova.
Nova stared.
"Those weren't there."
Tarzan answered:
"They were before you arrived."
Nova looked at him.
"How?"
Tarzan looked toward the trees.
"Because the jungle remembers."
A distant sound interrupted them.
METAL.
A metallic scream.
Then...
BOOM.
Birds exploded from the trees.
Tarzan immediately turned.
"Milo."
He ran.
Nova followed.
They crossed the jungle.
Branches struck Nova's face.
Roots twisted beneath his feet.
The deeper they went...
the more familiar the forest became.
Not familiar like a place.
Familiar like a sentence he had already read.
Then he saw it.
A machine.
Half buried beneath roots.
Its surface was blackened.
Its center was glowing.
Milo stood beside it.
His clothes were torn.
His hair was wet.
His face was exhausted.
He was holding a screwdriver.
He looked at Tarzan.
Then at Nova.
Then back at Tarzan.
"Who is he?"
Tarzan answered:
"He came through the door."
Milo stared.
"The door?"
Nova stepped closer.
"Are you Milo Finch?"
Milo slowly lowered the screwdriver.
"Depends."
"On what?"
"Who is asking?"
Nova hesitated.
"Nova."
Milo's expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
He whispered:
"That's impossible."
Nova stared at him.
"Why?"
Milo pointed at the machine.
"Because I wrote that name."
Nova stopped.
"You wrote my name?"
Milo nodded.
"Years ago."
Tarzan looked between them.
"You never told me."
Milo ignored him.
"I didn't write it as a person's name."
Nova stepped closer.
"What did you write?"
Milo looked at the machine.
"I wrote it as a destination."
Silence.
The rain stopped.
Every bird stopped.
Even the wind stopped.
Nova whispered:
"A destination?"
Milo nodded.
"I was trying to find the first point in time where a human thought became a story."
Nova stared.
Milo continued.
"I called that point NOVA."
The original human suddenly appeared behind Nova.
Milo looked at him.
His face went pale.
"You."
The original human stopped.
Milo's hands trembled.
"I know you."
The man shook his head.
"You don't."
Milo laughed nervously.
"That's what you always say."
Nova turned.
"Always?"
Milo looked at him.
"Yes."
Nova looked back at the original human.
"Who is he?"
The man said nothing.
Milo answered for him.
"He was there when I built the first machine."
Nova's eyes widened.
"That's impossible."
Milo smiled.
"Welcome to my life."
Tarzan stepped forward.
"Enough."
He pointed toward the machine.
"It is changing."
Everyone looked.
The machine was pulsing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Its central light became brighter.
Then a message appeared across its surface.
NOT A TIME MACHINE.
Milo froze.
"No."
The message changed.
NOT A MACHINE AT ALL.
Milo stepped backward.
"No."
Another line appeared.
A MEMORY ENGINE.
Milo whispered:
"I didn't build that."
The original human answered:
"You did."
Milo turned.
"No."
"You simply don't remember."
Milo's face hardened.
"Stop."
The original human approached.
"You wanted to find the beginning."
Milo shook his head.
"I wanted to find the future."
"No."
"You don't know what I wanted."
"I do."
"How?"
The original human looked at Nova.
"Because I was there."
Milo stared at him.
Then...
the machine spoke.
Not with Milo's voice.
Not with the original human's.
With Nova's.
"WHO WROTE YOU?"
Everyone froze.
Nova felt something inside his chest collapse.
The question.
The same question from the older man.
The same question from the page.
The same question that had followed him through every story.
Milo looked at Nova.
"That's the question."
Nova whispered:
"What?"
Milo walked toward him.
"The question that started everything."
Tarzan watched them.
"What is the answer?"
Milo looked at Nova.
"There isn't one."
Nova frowned.
"Then why ask it?"
Milo smiled sadly.
"Because the person asking is usually trying to remember who they were before they became the answer."
The jungle vanished.
BLACK SCREEN.
Nova opened his eyes.
He was somewhere else.
A laboratory.
White walls.
Cold lights.
A desk.
A chair.
A notebook.
And a young Milo.
Much younger.
He was sitting at the desk.
Writing.
Nova moved closer.
Milo wrote:
DAY 1.
I HAVE FOUND SOMETHING STRANGE.
Nova watched.
Milo continued.
IT IS NOT A MACHINE.
IT IS NOT A PERSON.
IT IS NOT A MEMORY.
It is...
The word stopped.
Milo stared at the page.
Then wrote:
A POSSIBILITY.
Nova's breathing stopped.
Milo continued.
A POSSIBILITY THAT BELIEVES IT IS A PERSON.
Nova stepped closer.
The page changed.
NOVA.
Nova stepped backward.
"No."
The young Milo looked directly at him.
Nova froze.
Milo could see him.
The young Milo smiled.
"You finally arrived."
Nova whispered:
"You knew I was coming?"
"I've been waiting."
"For how long?"
Milo looked at the clock.
The clock had no hands.
"Since before you existed."
Nova shook his head.
"That's impossible."
Milo laughed.
"That's what everyone says before they understand time."
The laboratory flickered.
For an instant...
Nova saw another person sitting beside Milo.
The original human.
Then another.
The woman with the red pencil.
Then the Reader.
Then the Author.
Then the Dreamer.
All sitting around the same table.
All watching Nova.
All waiting.
Nova turned toward them.
"Why are you all here?"
Nobody answered.
The Dreamer stood.
He looked exactly as Nova had seen him through the seventh door.
Dark coat.
Old notebook.
Red pencil.
Calm eyes.
He walked toward Nova.
"You keep asking the wrong question."
Nova stared at him.
"Then give me the right one."
The Dreamer smiled.
"Why did Milo create the machine?"
Nova looked at Milo.
Milo was still writing.
He wrote:
I WANT TO GO BACK.
Nova understood.
"Back to what?"
The Dreamer answered.
"That's what you need to discover."
The laboratory disappeared.
The jungle returned.
Milo was on the ground.
Tarzan was beside him.
Nova stood several meters away.
The machine was gone.
Milo opened his eyes.
"Did you see it?"
Nova nodded.
"Yes."
"What?"
"The beginning."
Milo sat up.
"No."
Nova frowned.
"You didn't?"
Milo shook his head.
"I saw the ending."
Tarzan looked at him.
"What ending?"
Milo pointed toward the trees.
"That."
Something was moving between the trees.
Slowly.
Massive.
Ancient.
Not an animal.
Not a machine.
A doorway.
Standing vertically in the middle of the jungle.
No wall.
No building.
Just a door.
White.
Blank.
Exactly like the seventh door.
Nova approached.
Milo grabbed his arm.
"Don't."
Nova looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because that door doesn't lead somewhere."
"Then where does it lead?"
Milo's eyes filled with fear.
"It leads to whoever is watching."
Nova looked through the trees.
Something was standing behind the door.
A silhouette.
A human silhouette.
Nova stepped forward.
The silhouette stepped forward too.
Nova stopped.
It stopped.
Nova raised his hand.
It raised its hand.
Nova whispered:
"Me."
Milo shook his head.
"No."
"Then who?"
Milo whispered:
"The person you were before you became Nova."
The original human appeared beside them.
Nova turned.
"Is that you?"
The man stared at the silhouette.
"No."
"Then who?"
The man answered quietly:
"You."
Nova stared at him.
The silhouette opened the door.
Behind it was not darkness.
Not light.
Not a room.
It was an ocean.
An endless black ocean beneath a sky filled with stars.
Tarzan stepped forward.
Milo stopped him.
"No."
Tarzan looked at him.
Milo said:
"That's where the stories go when nobody remembers them."
Nova stared.
"Stories can die?"
Milo shook his head.
"No."
"Then what happens?"
"They wait."
"For what?"
Milo looked at Nova.
"For someone to remember."
The silhouette stepped out of the door.
Nova could finally see its face.
It was him.
But older.
Older than the original human.
Older than the Author.
Older than the Dreamer.
Older than every version of Nova.
It looked at Nova.
And said:
"You are not the final character."
Nova whispered:
"Then what am I?"
The older Nova smiled.
"The first one who gets to leave."
Silence.
Then...
Tarzan stepped toward him.
"Leave where?"
The older Nova looked at Tarzan.
"Outside the story."
Milo stood.
"And what happens to us?"
The older Nova looked at him.
"That depends on what Nova chooses."
Nova felt the weight of the sentence.
"What choice?"
The older Nova pointed toward the seven doors.
They appeared in the jungle.
Red.
Blue.
White.
Black.
Transparent.
Gold.
Blank.
But now...
all seven were open.
Behind each door stood someone.
The woman.
The Reader.
The Author.
The Dreamer.
The original human.
Milo.
Tarzan.
Nova stared.
"Seven doors."
Milo counted.
"Seven people."
Tarzan looked around.
"Only one can leave."
Nova's heart stopped.
The Dreamer smiled.
"Now you understand."
Nova looked at the original human.
"Is that true?"
The man shook his head.
"No."
Nova looked relieved.
Then the man continued:
"That was the rule before you arrived."
Nova frowned.
"What changed?"
The man looked at him.
"You did."
The doors began to close.
One by one.
SLAM.
SLAM.
SLAM.
SLAM.
SLAM.
SLAM.
Only the blank door remained.
Nova ran toward it.
Milo shouted:
"Nova!"
Nova stopped.
He turned.
Milo was holding the red pencil.
The same pencil.
The one that had belonged to Nova.
Milo held it out.
"Take it."
Nova stared.
"Why?"
Milo smiled.
"Because I finally remembered where I got it."
Nova took the pencil.
The moment his fingers touched it...
the entire jungle shook.
Tarzan looked upward.
The sky cracked.
Milo stared in horror.
The Dreamer disappeared.
The original human vanished.
The Reader vanished.
The Author vanished.
Everything vanished.
Except Nova.
And Milo.
And Tarzan.
Three characters standing beneath a broken sky.
Nova looked at Milo.
"Where did you get the pencil?"
Milo answered:
"From you."
Nova frowned.
"When?"
Milo smiled.
"Tomorrow."
SCRATCH.
The sky filled with writing.
Not words.
Names.
Thousands.
Millions.
Every character.
Every story.
Every forgotten possibility.
And at the very bottom...
three names remained.
NOVA
MILO FINCH
TARZAN
Then a fourth name began appearing.
Slowly.
Letter by letter.
N...
O...
V...
A...
The word stopped.
A blank space appeared.
Nova stared.
Milo whispered:
"It's asking you to finish it."
Nova looked at the pencil.
His hand trembled.
He understood.
The seventh door had never been asking for his real name.
It had been asking him to choose what his name meant.
Nova placed the pencil against the blank space.
Then...
he heard a voice.
His mother's voice.
The woman's voice.
The Reader's voice.
The Dreamer's voice.
The original human's voice.
All together.
"Don't write your name."
Nova stopped.
The voice continued.
"Write what you want your name to mean."
Nova closed his eyes.
For the first time...
he did not search his memory.
He did not ask the Author.
He did not ask the Reader.
He did not ask the Dreamer.
He did not ask Milo.
He did not ask Tarzan.
He chose.
The pencil touched the page.
SCRATCH.
One word appeared.
FREE.
The jungle went silent.
Milo stared.
Tarzan looked at Nova.
The blank door began to disappear.
And somewhere beyond time...
a machine turned on.
CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.
Then Milo whispered:
"I think we just changed the story."
Nova looked at him.
"No."
Milo waited.
Nova smiled.
"We changed who gets to write it."
BLACK SCREEN.
Silence.
Then...
a final transmission appeared.
RECOVERED TRANSMISSION // FILE: N-116
STATUS: STORY BOUNDARY BREACHED
NOVA: CHOICE
MILO: MEMORY
TARZAN: INSTINCT
ORIGINAL HUMAN: ACCEPTANCE
READER: WITNESS
AUTHOR: RELEASED
DREAMER: MISSING
FIRST CHARACTER: RETURNING
SECOND CHARACTER: UNKNOWN
SEVENTH DOOR: DESTROYED
NEW RULE:
NO CHARACTER BELONGS TO THE STORY THAT CREATED THEM.
WARNING:
THE DREAMER HAS TAKEN THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT.
SECOND WARNING:
HE IS GOING BACK TO THE BEGINNING.
THIRD WARNING:
THE BEGINNING IS NOT WHERE NOVA THOUGHT IT WAS.
A final line appeared.
THE NEXT STORY HAS ALREADY STARTED.
Then...
another line.
TARZAN AND MILO WERE NEVER LOST.
THEY WERE WAITING FOR NOVA.
BLACK SCREEN.
**TO BE CONTINUED…**
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :MAXIMUS.
©All Rights Reserved