You stare at the question for a moment. “Have you ever tried to escape?”
If there was ever a time to try again, it’s now, isn’t it?
You type in your answer--something snarky, something dumb--and press submit. He won’t think much of it. Hopefully.
A short time later, in a break of a relatively light conversation, you pull up the courage to ask.
“Narrator, have you ever thought about leaving?”
He’s shocked, and the effort is doomed from the start. His face clouds over, you try not to wince.
You’re stuck with the consequence, but you have to try.
“..yes, I have. But we can’t do that.”
“Why not?” He always answers like this. Cryptic, as if the words themselves are poison.
“It’s not safe, Stanley. Haven’t we gone through this before?” It’s your turn to be shocked. It was at least a hundred resets ago the last time you attempted this. How did he remember?
“We--” You sigh, “We have, but you never give me an answer.”
“..I’m sorry. I can’t say anything.”
“Why.” Bitterness seeps into your tone. “There’s nothing new here, Narrator. There’s nothing else to do. Why can’t you try?”
“Stanley, you don’t understand. I literally cannot say anything.”
“Then write it. Type it. Put it in code. I don’t care, as long as it’s legible.”
“I don’t--It’s not like that--Stanley, do you think I haven’t tried? If I could’ve done anything, you’d have been out a long time ago, but it’s just not possible. ..the sooner we can accept that, the easier this existence will be.”
“Aren’t we doomed to die either way?” Silence stifles the room. He turns to meet your stare.
You stare at him, dumbfounded. For once, it didn’t end in screaming or fighting. It’s only a moment that you look at each other like that, though it feels longer.
You sigh and walk past him, pressing the reset button. It’s been far too long without a restart, as it was.
Another moment passes, and everything fades to white. You’re unsure, but you think you heard something.
“I’m sorry you’re stuck here with me.”
“All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean?”
You stand, silently walking. He says nothing of value as you travel, through the office, down the elevator, along the corridor labelled escape. Some part of him must remember, and it doesn’t try to stop you. The only thing that could have done that was the opposite of what happened: something off script.
You fall through the death trap and into the pristine halls of an empty museum. You know this place well.
[The Narrator will temporarily be unavailable for questions. The Curator is now available for questions in his absence.]
tangentwithtanner
amandla
discoholicmusic
jimmyeatworldofficial
pixelskylines
theartofmadeline
areudirty
stormborns