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Please, Darnold. Breathe for me. We need to calm down, otherwise you're going to hurt yourself.

...

[He breaths. Breath stuttering, but he tries to stop majorly glitching. The tendril recede.]

I’m- …I’m not built to be a lone AI… I was made to work with the others and you.

I don’t like this, Grandpa, I want to go home.

I... I know you do. I want you home too. But it's getting worse, and they refuse to fix anything.

You mean everything to me. You know that. I just wish.... I just wish I could do something to fix this myself.

There’s got to be something to do, I- I can help out in someway, I just-

I can’t just sit by and let the computer deal with that! I’m doing nothing!

I need to do- I can fucking help! I just need- AGH!

[Her fist hits the recycling bin wall. A neatly stacked pile of thrown away emails falls over.]

...

I'm sorry, dear girl.

[The video glitches heavily. And the days on the recording begin to skip by the hundreds.]

A letter? who from? maybe that means someones looking for you!

Maybe? Let's see...

[She opens the letter, and reads the contents aloud.]

"Hello, Darnold.

It has been a while without you now, and yet everywhere I look reminds me of what happened as if it were seconds ago. I'm hoping that writing you a letter will give me some sort of closure, dear girl. Though I know I'll never see you or hear your voice again, I can't help but ask myself what you would say.

I can't forgive myself for what they did to you, Darnold, my dearest granddaughter. I can't even bring myself to go near the recycling bin, I'm too afraid to see what, if anything, is left of you. I'd cite the concept of Schrodinger's Cat, but you were always more of a bird, weren't you, dear girl?

I miss you, and I love you always,

Grandpa Coomer"

Darnold, Darnold, please take some deep breaths friend... we don't know where Gordon is— we can't see the computer like that (though if I'm right he IS there somewhere, I'm sure of it). But, please, take some deep breaths first. How long have you been stuck in here?

-flowers anon 🌸

How long have I-

...I can feel the rotation in my brain. Every hour, I'm programmed to flip. I've been keeping count by hour.

Eight thousand, six hundred and eighty eight hours.

Three hundred and sixty two days.

#PROGRAMFILES|REALITY_REGISTRY #HKLM|SYSTEM|THEADMIN?#The Eleventh Hour

Have... Have they not fixed you yet...?

FUCK YOU.

#PROGRAMFILES|REALITY_REGISTRY #HKLM|SYSTEM|THEADMIN?#The Eleventh Hour

Hey Darnold... I'm so, so sorry. I know this must be isolating, and that it hurts so much.

I wish anons could hug people. It sounds like you could use one, if you're at all comfortable with those.

-flowers anon 🌸

[She leans further against the recycling bin wall.]

...I can hear them. Talking. Outside.

I can’t… I can’t see at all, I’m just stuck here… I’ve been watching more things be thrown in here and none of them are good. Face it, they’re not coming back, Ad- …they’re not going to save you, Darnold. It’s not going to happen, it’s too close to New Year’s, I can’t-

[She writhes, form an unstable cacophony of voided tendrils and leaking, infected code. A hand, as much as one that she had, goes to sift through her glitching hair.]

[there's a knock. It's quieter than before.]

...Hello, Darnold.