Milon was changing. He could feel it. A slow, electric feeling was growing in his bones. In his head a dark buzz, getting louder every day. His dreams were full of white light and fire too bright to burn him. Something was coming alive inside, and it was frightening him. At first he had thought that he might be ill, later he had hoped that that was the case. But the doctors had found nothing wrong with him and as the dreams grew brighter and brighter ha had started to realise that this could be no ordinary disease. It was something else, something worse.
This night the dream had been more intense than ever. A universe of stars, right behind his eyes, a galaxy forever expanding. And that's all it was. And it seemed so real.
With a quiet sigh he sat up. After the strange dream he really enjoyed the soft, velvety darkness of the familiar room. To get rid of the unpleasant aftertaste of sleep he rubbed his eyes. For a moment he thought he could see the light of the stars rubbing off on his fingers, but decided that it was just his overheated imagination. As he turned his head to the left to have a look at the clock, a small, brightly glowing little object caught his attention. It took him a whole second before he realised that it was the little plastic glow-in-the-dark ghost that he had loved so much when he was a kid. In those days it had seemed the ultimate toy to him. Of course, you had to charge it under a strong lamp for about ten minutes before the real magic kicked in, and it never lasted for very long. But the little thing was glowing like crazy now and the light hadn't been on since he went to bed. That was at least five hours ago. He didn't have an explanation to offer himself and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted one.
He sighed again. He was hurting. Body and soul. When he thought about it he realised that he had been for a while now. It had started as a dull little ache, more annoying than painful. As the months went by it had increased so slowly he almost hadn't noticed. He had got used to being in pain, but now it had grown into a slow gnawing ache, like acid, slowly trickling down the inside of his skin. It had spread down his left side, from the chest almost down to the knee. And the electric buzz was not enough to deafen it. Not yet anyway.
He had also got used to the hopeless feeling inside of him. He had always been lonely, it was no big deal really. He had stopped wondering why people didn't like him, it was just the way it was. They didn't really dislike him either, they just stayed away from him. He was no good at human relations. He'd had a few friends but they'd all disappeared after a while, moved or found a partner, never to be heard of again. When he was younger it had made him sad when that happened, but over the years the feeling had been replaced by an indifferent emptiness. Almost like he couldn't feel it eating away at his soul.

When he was fourteen, he had noticed the first strands of grey in his hair. By his seventeenth birthday it was all white as snow with a tinge of silver. It made him look a lot younger than twenty-four, but he couldn't really care less. And his eyes hadn't they once been a quite nice shade of blue? Now the tears he'd never allowed to fall had bleached them into nothing but a pale imitation of blue. Like a tired February sky reflected in a puddle of melted snow. And that was the way he felt most of all. Tired.

Outside the wind was howling through the empty streets, blowing rubbish and sand along beneath the dimmed streetlights. Among the papers scattered over the cold asphalt were several of the many leaflets that seemed to have appeared from nowhere the last couple of weeks. Shabby yellow things with smudgy black print. Declaring in simple words and a devastating matter-of- factness that the last days were indeed here. The world was coming to an end and it wouldn't be long now.
Suddenly a strong gust of wind came and lifted one of the sheets high up in the dark night air. It travelled fast on the chilly winds and when it finally fell down again there was no ground underneath to catch it. It dropped down in the canal. Overwhelmed by the swirling masses of black wetness the sheet was quickly soaked right through. As it sank, the smeary black print mixed with the water and the message was absorbed particle by particle by the stream. The soggy, torn paper continued to sink and float, up and down, until it came to the lock where the water was still. It was not alone on the bottom of the canal. Amongst the litter and the mud there was something stirring. Maybe sleeping. Maybe just waking...

Felix Marno closed the book with a bang and took off his glasses. He blinked a couple of times to clear his eyes. God, he was tired. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him it was already twenty to six in the afternoon. The library would be closing soon, he might as well call it a day. He hadn't really planned to spend the entire day here in the first place, but after having found the old, dusty book in one of the archives it felt like ha had made more progress in these seven hours than he had in the last four months. It was the only book he had ever found with a clear description of the Traveller. "Young man, colourless eyes & hair, bright light, stars. The last days. Two wills and one mind? End or new beginning? The Imprisoned one, a form consisting of darkness and???" He skimmed through the notes scrawled on his pad, noticing how each word seemed more hastily written than the one before. It was all riddles anyway. He didn't really believe the world was going to come to an end, not anytime soon. But many people obviously did. Maybe it wasn't so strange, with the new millennium coming on and everything. And there had always been rumours. This "Traveller" was only one of the stories he had come across in his career as a historian and journalist. But it was interesting, especially so since one of the oldest prophets of the believers had been his great-great-great-great grandfather. The "Mad prophet Marnonne", Felix laughed a bit on the inside. It was always great to know that there was a history of insanity in the family.
The lights in the library abruptly flashed twice, pronouncing that the building was to be closed for the night. Awaking from his daydream, Felix never noticed that he had left his notes behind him a s he bid good evening to the porter and left through the same door he had entered over five hours ago. Still deep in thought he made his way to his car.

He turned the ignition again -one more try, but it was of no use, the car wouldn't start. He made his way back round to the library entrance but it was already all locked up and in darkness, not a soul to be seen. In fact the whole place seemed void of human presence, which he found quite odd because it had been still quite busy, not much more than ten minutes before.
He decided to look for the nearest phone and call for help. As he made his way along the cold, dimly lit lonely street, he noticed the weather changing for the worse. The wind was picking up, blowing the discarded litter everywhere. A storm was on the way. He stopped and bent down to remove the damp, yellow leaflet that clung to his shoe as if struck by great fear. He duly dislodged the offending article and put it in its proper place, the nearest bin.

At last he spotted a phone box. He had been walking, quite briskly in an attempt to warm himself, for roughly a quarter of an hour or so although it seemed somewhat longer.
He stubbed out the cigarette as he dialled the number he found on a card he took from his wallet. His hands were nearly numb, it was so cold. He thrust his left hand deep into his pocket as he held the receiver with the other, waiting for someone to answer. In his pocket he felt something damp. He removed a yellow piece of crumpled paper. On unfolding it he read the words out loud: "TAKE HEED, THE END FOR YOU MY FRIEND, IS IMMINENT -RETURN WITH HASTE FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!"
He didn't have time to acknowledge the strange message, as the voice on the other end greeted him. He returned his hand to the warmth of his coat pocket, still clutching the damp, yellow paper.

On returning to the car, he turned on the radio for company, and the heater to warm himself. To pass the time he decided to check his notes, for help wouldn't arrive for at least half an hour. As he fumbled about the car in search of his notepad he suddenly realised that he had left it back in the library, but he would have to return the next day as it was so obviously closed.

As he sat there alone in the front seat, gathering his thoughts, he noticed that there was a dim light coming from the window at the rear of the building. He thought he would try knocking on the exit door to see if he could get someone to let him in to retrieve his notepad, it would save him the trouble of having to come back again. He knew there had to be someone inside as the light wasn't on when he had first returned.
His breath was visible through the cold night air that greeted him upon leaving the comfort of the vehicle and venturing into darkness. He knocked on the door. No reply. He wasn't taking no answer for an answer so he decided to try to open and gain access. To his surprise it opened, with the help of a gentle tug.
He entered the library and called out to see if anyone was inside. There was no response, it was difficult to see, he would have to feel his way, and then suddenly he heard a loud, piercing scream. He quickly ran towards its eerie tone, trying to figure out which part of the building it had come from. Then something caught his eye. Light again, in one of the darkest corners of the room. He began walking towards it, suddenly oblivious of his original plan to get his notes. As he drew closer, he met with one of the strangest sights. There was a cast iron staircase, spiralling up to the next level. Felix had spent several hours in the library during his life, but never before had he noticed these stairs. However, that was nothing near as strange as the light coming down from above. It seemed almost liquid as it floated down the steps like water or smoke. It's milk white consistency reminded him of thick fog, illuminated from within. But there was no fog, it was the light that was so bright it almost seemed solid. Still, it didn't dazzle him. Curiosity immediately took a firm hold of Felix, and without even so much as a second's hesitation he began ascending the stairs. He had almost reached the top, he could see the corridor at the end, when the light suddenly disappeared. Darkness enveloped him and as he waited for his eyes to adjust, he quietly cursed his never failing talent for getting into trouble. After a little while the surroundings began to take form again and he carefully took the few remaining steps up. When he got into the corridor he could see a new light, this time an ordinary, electric light, spilling out from a slightly open door. The scream he had heard was still fresh in his mind and it was not without a certain amount of nervousness that he approached it. He braced himself for what he might find as he carefully peeked into the room.
A man was sitting on a bed, leaning his head in his hands. Felix had never known there was an upper floor at all. He was just about to knock on the door to make his presence known, but before he had a chance, the man raised his head with a start and looked at him. Felix's first thought was that this was an old man, but when he looked closer he realised that he was not old at all, in fact, he couldn't be more than twenty-five, at most. It was his hair that had fooled him. It was all white. "Come in." Milon said quietly. And began to shine.

On the bottom of the canal the mud continued to stir, more violently for every passing second. It was contracting, forming. Something black and wet loosened itself from the rest of the black and wet. A shadow, consisting of absolute darkness began to float towards the surface. A few stray fish coming towards it quickly turned and swam the other way. Swam for their lives. Their instincts told them more than anyone else knew yet. It had begun.

Milon Leverett hadn't yet realised the full extent of his power, but it was growing stronger, in tandem with what lurked deep beneath the still waters of the canal, some distance away. His body was awash with raw energy, which he didn't really understand, and couldn't yet control. The light was now growing even brighter until the pain became too much. As he passed out on the bed, he screamed again.

Felix came to his senses, rudely awakening from his hypnotic state by the menacing din. He quickly rose to his feet and suddenly felt really dizzy. His mouth gaped open, he couldn't quite believe the sight which lay before him. On the bed, lying unconscious, was the Traveller, looking exactly as described in the book he had read only an hour before, downstairs in the library. The metamorphosis was happening right before him. Suddenly Milon opened his eyes, a piercing white light emanated from them, filling the room.
As Felix's body hit the floor, Milon got up from his bed and left the room. Without hesitation he headed straight to the canal to confront what was lurking beneath the ice-cold murky water.

The sound of the leaky tap dripping seemed to grow progressively louder as Felix slowly came to. As he opened his eyes, he noticed an old suitcase under the bed. He reached under and pulled it out, bringing with it a small cloud of dust, which caught him full in the face, causing him to sneeze violently several times. His eyes watered, slightly obscuring his vision. He picked up the suitcase and lay it on the bed before him. His head hurt, he must have banged it on the floor when he had fainted.
He was quite surprised to find that the suitcase wasn't locked and opened easily, without any fuss. As he lifted the lid, he heard a voice, a low whisper, which seemed to come from inside his own head. At first he tried to ignore the voice, putting it down to and over-active imagination on his part, which could have probably been caused form the fall earlier. As he sifted through the contents of the suitcase, the voice in his head persisted, calling to him: "Come, follow me, there is much work to be done." He rubbed his eyes and removed his glasses from the inside of his coat, cleaning them with a quick wipe before putting them on. He picked up what seemed like an old passport and opened it. Inside was a photograph of "Milon Earl Leverett: Colour of eyes: blue, Height: 6' 1"..." As he read through the description, he had noticed from looking at the photograph that Milon had indeed looked considerably older than his birth date suggested.
Among the various papers, newspaper clippings and old photographs, he found a roll of parchment, it's yellow-brown colour and musty scent giving a clue to its age. Felix carefully opened the red ribbon, tied neatly in a bow, to reveal the secrets of the old yellow-brown paper.
As he began to read, things slowly became clear to him. The voice beckoned him still as he continued to read.

Milon found himself standing on the bridge by the canal. How he had got there he had no idea. It was cold, so cold, but his body was still burning with pain. What the hell was happening to him? His memories were all in disarray, this whole painful nightmare.
The water flowing past beneath his feet was nothing but a stream of darkness. He could lose himself in the darkness. Just climb over the railing and slip down into the icy black. Let the cold water embrace him, fill him. It would put out the fire under his skin, surely, and cool his aching head. How sweet it would be to just flow with the stream, give up his burning breath, never be in pain again...
A sound woke him from his dreams. Something moved, down there on the side of the canal. For a second the distraction made him tear his eyes away from the tempting water. Then he heard the sound again. A muffled sound. Someone was trying to scream. Quickly Milon climbed down onto the embankment and tried to locate the source of the sound. It was dark. He couldn't see a thing. Then suddenly the pain intensified itself again, this time worse than ever. He doubled up, lightning filled his head. He thought he was screaming. The pain was tearing him apart. Against the wall of white light that was all he could see, a huge, dark shape stood out. It drew closer, towered over him.
In another part of his consciousness he picked up a glimpse of a person lying on the ground behind the black shape. Dead, he could feel it. Killed. That had been the source of the screams then, but all this was very cursorily registered.
Then there was a change. The pain went beyond pain as the light burned out his nervous systems. The energy shot outwards from his body focused this time. It hit the dark figure right in the centre, with the power of a small sun. A new scream filled Milon's head, this time not his own. The pain was all gone and he watched in amazement as his light was absorbed by the black mass. Still, it just kept coming out, he had no idea how much there was in him. And his adversary was not at all unaffected by the attack, the light tore at it, trying to pierce the darkness. Eventually it could stand it no longer and without any warning it hurled itself over the side, back into the canal from where it had come.
Milon fell to the ground, wisps of smoky, white light still rising from his body. The afterglow was so powerful he would actually be illuminating the entire embankment, several minutes after the police had arrived and begun trying to figure out how this could have happened.

Felix carefully put the contract aside. That was what it was, the parchment. A contract that he did not fully understand, and frankly, he was glad he didn't. There was more to this story than those old books in the library could ever know. Milon was not the only Traveller there had ever been, but he was indeed one of them. Somewhere inside Felix's mind an image tried to form, tried to grasp the endlessness of this story. Unlimited numbers of worlds, times and dimensions made his head spin. It was far too much for him to allow himself to try to understand. He would go mad, just like his ancestor.
He took a new look at the passport. Instead of a name of a country on it's cover it simply had a number: "T 0087473380551900" It meant nothing to him, but that it was no ordinary passport was quite clear. Just the fact that its period of validity was three hundred years was a subtle hint at that.
The persistent voice inside his head had been starting to get on his nerves, and now he couldn't ignore it anymore. Milon had gone and Felix had to find him. The voice guided him as soon as he let it.

When Felix got down to the canal it went quiet in his head and he was left to his own devices. The police had sealed off an area down at the embankment, but Felix's journalist pass got him through. After having asked around a little bit he was told that they had found two men. One had been taken to hospital, the other one to the morgue. A few people also told him that one of them had been glowing! They had never seen anything like it in their entire lives!
Felix decided to be an optimist for once. It was difficult to get into the hospital, but he had his tricks.

Milon opened his eyes. "I know you", he said, "you were at my house." "You have to get out of here. They've sent for some kind of scientists. We have to hurry." "I've been dreaming. It's all clear now. No pain anymore. But you're right, we do have to hurry. The Dark will take another form, move amongst the living." His eyes took on a glassy expression, as he seemed to stare into a different reality. His hair was the same, but it didn't make him look old anymore. Now he looked very young, very vulnerable. Felix couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

In a house, not far from the bridge where Milon had stood and thought about ending his life only a few hours earlier, Cecil Anderson was getting ready for bed. He watched his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, and he liked what he saw. In the prime of his life, he had everything he could have wished for, and didn't have anything he didn't want. No wife, lots of lovers. No kids, lots of friends. High position, lots of money. He was genuinely pleased with himself.
He spat out the foamy toothpaste and bent down to rinse his mouth. But as he turned the tap no water came. The angry speech he would give to the plumber was already half finished in his mind when something did come out of the tap. A black, sticky substance, like tar poured down into his sink. Wearing a disgusted frown, Cecil backed away a couple of steps. He should have run for his life instead, but now it was already too late. The black stuff was all over him, finding it's way in through his mouth and nose. Wearing his body, it turned to look in the mirror. It too liked what it saw.

Felix quickly gathered together Milon's clothes and threw them on the bed. As Milon dressed Felix told him what he already knew so far and hoped that Milon could fill in the blanks so he would then have a much clearer idea of what he was up against. But there was no time for that now. They had to hurry if they were to be successful in stopping what had come from another place, another time, the black darkness that could take on any shape or form.

Cecil Anderson was no longer concerned with the vagaries of life. He was now overcome by the black, sticky substance and was changing. It oozed through his body, coursing through his veins, until finally he had succumbed to the Dark. The life in his eyes had gone, all that reminded was a dull, vacant stare. He now had only one thing on his mind, to find the Traveller, Milon Leverett.

They left the room and headed down the corridor. Milon felt a lot better, the pain had now subsided. Felix pressed the button to call the lift up, which one would arrive first? The police would be here any minute. Felix pressed the button again, his patience was now wearing thin. He was just about to press it for a third time "Ding!" the doors opened to reveal an empty lift. They quickly entered and pressed the button marked "G" to get them to the ground floor. Just as soon as the doors closed, the doors of the adjacent lift opened and out walked five men dressed in suits, one of them carrying a large briefcase. They headed down the corridor in military fashion, towards the now empty room where Milon had been only minutes before.

The lift reached its destination, the doors opened and Felix and Milon quickly left the hospital. Felix knew of somewhere safer for them to go. He hailed a taxi, and as they both got in, told the driver their destination. Milon began to tell Felix all he knew as the car sped off towards the address indicated to the driver: 397 Anthony St., the home of Felix's long time friend -Cecil Anderson.
The worst thing, Felix soon discovered, was that it strangely enough seemed like he knew more about the situation than Milon. When he asked him about the suitcase and the passport underneath his bed, Milon just looked confused and told him he didn't know what he was talking about. What he did know however, was that somehow he had got these strange powers, and it was clear that it was his job to rid the world of this dark something that had come crawling up from the canal last night. Felix agreed and told him about the Traveller myth. Maybe the end of the world was indeed imminent, like the leaflet had said. The leaflet! Felix still had it in his pocket. He took it out and showed it to Milon. "Never seen it.", Milon said, "But still, there's something quite. familiar about it. I don't know." "Do you think the world really will end? Do you think you can stop it?" Felix asked. Milon looked at him with a scared look in his eyes. "If the world is going to end. I doubt that there is much I can do about it." That answer didn't exactly make Felix feel any better.

They were standing on the steps to Cecil's house, and had just rung the bell, when a new look of worry suddenly clouded Milon's face. His eyes seemed to stare into another world, and what he saw there apparently worried him. "What's wrong?" Felix asked. "I'm not sure. but there's definitely something."

That was as far as he got, because the door suddenly swung open and before Felix knew it, someone had grabbed Milon by the throat, violently pulling him inside. Felix rushed in after them, too surprised even to be afraid. "Cecil?! What are you doing?" he shouted. It was a stupid question really, he could see very well what his old friend was doing, he was slamming Milon's head brutally against the wall. There was no question that he meant to kill him. Felix ran up to him, grabbing his arm. Cecil spun around, furious of being interrupted. When Felix saw his eyes he understood that this was not his friend. Not anymore. Cecil threw his arm back and Felix caught the blow right in his chest, so hard that he was flung across the room and slammed into the wall on the opposite side. Dark stars filled his vision. The room was leaning crazily to one side. A taste of blood filled his mouth like hot metal.

Milon struggled to hold on to consciousness. It was no use trying to fight back on the physical level, the creature that had been Cecil Anderson was so much stronger than he was. His only chance was to use his newly found powers. He desperately fumbled in his mind for the mental switch that would let the light come flowing out. It was hard, the dark being didn't leave him alone for the second or so it would take to centre his mind.
He was vaguely aware that he was being savagely beaten. There was a possibility that even if he managed to access his power, his body would be to badly damaged to work as the catalyst needed to focus it.

"Where is he? He should be here!" The man in the black suit seemed very upset. The other four looked anxiously around. One of them opened the closet and, seeing that there was nothing to se, closed it again. The first man put down his briefcase on the bed and opened it. He took out what looked a little bit like a compact and opened the lid. "He's gone." He said. "What do you mean he's gone?" A tiny, slightly static voice emerged from the small box. "I mean what I say. He's just gone." "So find him! I tell you, the boss and I have had just about enough of his little unscripted improvisations! You'd better find him and tell him that if he doesn't get his act together he can start looking for another part! That goes for you as well, if you don't find him in 24 hours, it's the job- centre for you on Monday!" And with a shrill little beep the conversation was over. The man in the black closed his communicator and turned to the others. "Well, I'm sure you all heard what the little shit said. We've got 24 hours." With no further delay they left the room.

At last, lightning exploded from Milon's eyes and hit the creature that had been Cecil stronger than ever, forcing it to retreat. The light didn't destroy the human body, but it tore the darkness inside of it more or less to shreds. Milon was gone, in his place a figure of purest light. A howl of pain rung in their ears as Cecil's body fell to the floor and a black, sticky substance started to form a big pool around it. And then Milon to fell, for the last time. Felix managed to get to his feet and go over to where he lay. He couldn't see any signs of life in either of the two adversaries. Suddenly the dizziness overwhelmed him again and the room seemed to get very dark. Before he knew it, unconsciousness had taken him.

Milon's tired mind was floating in a stream of light. He could rest, at last. Let the stream take him where it wanted. His job was done. Still, in the back of his head there was something struggling to get his attention. Something he had forgotten about. Something that Felix had mentioned to him during the ride here. And there was a memory also, a memory of some kind of promise he had made.
He didn't want to listen. Enough was enough, he deserved the rest. But the memory was stubborn, refused to go away. Like an annoying horsefly it buzzed around his floating soul. Eventually he would have to listen.

The next thing that Felix became aware of was that they were no longer alone in the room. He could hear voices, and when he opened his eyes he could see five men in dark suits come through the door. They looked like government agents or something like that, he decided that it might be best to pretend unconsciousness for a while longer.
One of the men, he was carrying a large briefcase, knelt down beside Milon's body. He frowned at the sight of all the blood on his face, and then put two fingers against his throat. Apparently he must have found the signs of life Felix had missed, because he went on to slapping Milon's face, not too carefully. "C'mon, wake up. There's no use in this, you know the deal. Pathetic amateur."

Milon was dragged up to the surface again both by his memory and by a familiar voice. As he opened his eyes, it all came back to him in an avalanche of images. He knew now what suitcase Felix had meant. He knew he had made a mistake. Been an amateur. But he was dying, so maybe they would forgive him.

The man in black saw that he opened his eyes. A sarcastic look formed on his face as he said: "Well folks, that's a wrap! Beautiful work Milon, you really handled that one like a professional! Now, if you would be so kind as to tell us how we will get around the tiny problem we are facing. You just killed one of the lead characters! Halfway through the show, and you kill him! Brilliant! Absolutely fantastic!"

He was shouting now, and the sound made Milon's skin crawl. He hated being shouted at. He waited for a gap in the sarcasms where he could defend himself, but it didn't seem like there was one coming any time soon. The Director's Assistant was really on a roll here.

Felix sat up. He couldn't believe his ears. Milon had defeated this dark threat to humanity, and now this man was telling him off. He didn't understand it, but unpleasant as he seemed, the man didn't appear to be dangerous, so Felix decided to ask him what was happening. The man completely ignored Felix's question, and instead posed one of his own to Milon: "Who's this?" "A friend. Look, I had forgotten OK? Something went wrong with my mind a couple of weeks ago. I didn't feel so good. I guess I got on eof those Cerebral Infections y'know. Maybe if you had let me have that holiday I asked for." "So now it's our fault?! You fuck up and ruin the whole episode, and it's our fault?" "I'm not saying it's anybody's fault, I was ill. I didn't know what I was doing." "HEY!" Felix shouted. He was being through being ignored here. Now he was getting some answers. "Milon, who are these people? What "episode" are they talking about?" The man with the briefcase, who seemed to be the leader, turned to him and pulled a little, white card from the pocket of his jacket.
Perry Moore JR.
Assistant Director
EterniTV "Keep it." He said nonchalantly. "But. I don't understand." Felix had never felt so confused in his life. As he reached out to take the card he noticed that he still had the flyer. "What is this thing really?" "Come here." Milon's voice sounded so tired. Felix sat down beside him on the floor. "First of all, I want to apologise for getting you dragged into this. You see. I'm an actor. All the Travellers were. It's a very popular show in. well, where I come from. But when we came here to do this "world's end" episode, I got sick. It's called Cerebral Infection, a virus that gets on the brain and causes, among other things, amnesia. Of course I should have got treatment as soon as the first signs showed, but I didn't and. then it was too late. I forgot who I was and what I was doing here. Well, most of it anyway. I wasn't supposed to destroy the Dark until the end of the episode, but. well. That thing you've got there is part of the props. "But what about Cecil? He was no actor! He was my friend and now he's dead!" "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. He wasn't supposed to die. but that wasn't my fault either. The Dark shouldn't have eaten his soul. it should just have loaned his body. I'm not the only one to screw up."
Felix felt totally numb. Had these people really used the entire world and it's population as involuntary extras for some kind of interdimensional filming? "Where are you people from? How can you not care what happens to us?"

He directed his angry question at Perry. "We're from another timeline." "The future?"

"Yeah, kind of, but not your future. Hell, we wouldn't want to mess with our own past, that could have disastrous consequences."

"But it's alright to mess with ours?" Felix was so angry that he could hardly find words. Then his eyes fell on Milon again. He didn't look good. Somehow, Felix couldn't quite bring himself to be angry with Milon. So he asked: "Are you going to be alright?" "No.I don't think so. actually. I'm dying."

"Well, be my guest!" Perry said, "You're fired anyway!" He opened his briefcase and took out a parchment, exactly like the one Felix had found in Milon's room. With an angry look on his face he tore it in half. That was it. Milon was free. He remembered it all now, the document, the meaning of life that was so nearly revealed to him, how he had hidden it away from them, and how they had tried to get into his mind to find out where it was. He had resisted, and somehow, instead of reading his memories, they had somehow blocked them out. It had caused a Cerebral Infection, and his powers had been blocked as well, or the knowledge of how to use them, rather. When they had realised he really didn't remember, they had decided to send him home and go on with the filming as usual. But he remembered the note he had written, to himself, to remind himself of where the document was hidden. Would the secret die with him now? Or could he trust Felix enough, this man he had only just met, with the secret of the meaning of life itself? It was either that or nothing. He didn't have any time to decide. It was time to pass the secret on. He reached into his coat pocked with one bloody hand and pulled out the page. "Felix. please, take this. Don't let them see it. Guard it with your life. and oh yeah, it's in the library. remember, library." He could feel the life run out of him now. But Felix did take the paper, and put it in his pocket. That was it. It was out of his hands.
Milon let out a sigh of relief. He could feel the stream of light returning, pouring around him. He had no longer any powers, this was not a light anyone could see, but it filled his mind, enveloped his last thoughts and swept his life away.
Later, Felix could have sworn that Milon died with a smile on his face.

-fade to black-

"What a load of old crap!" Bob reaches for the remote control and switches channels. "What's this "The inside of a golf ball" Nah, don't wanna watch that."

He presses another button. "Nightmare on Dempsey street"? Nah, seen that. Crap film." Next channel. "Captain Bumbeard the scourge of the seven seas"? Hey, I think this is for kids!" Zap. "Ah! "The revenge of the Other People" this oughtta be good!"