Work Text:
REBOOTING UNIVERSE
PLEASE STAND BY
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ESTIMATED TIME REMAINING:
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00 DAYS 00 HOURS 00 MINUTES 04 SECONDS
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REBOOT COMPLETE
WARFSTACHE OS
MRKPL. Digital Heist in Space LTD
Copyright © 2022. Iplier Industries Inc.
Universe CPU loaded at 4800 THz . 8 Processor(s)
Memory Loading : 45609060K OK
Galactic MOD Extension v6.09.03
Copyright © ~13,000,000,000 B.C. , ISWM Inc.
Detecting Invincible II RESET
Detecting Status of “Captain” LOCATED
Establishing “Free Choice” Protocols LOADED
Universe Type : Saddle Torus, 46.5B LY
Cached Galaxies : 1.78 Trilion
Remaining Space : 85%
Loose Ends : 10,508,689,302
Completed Ends : 5,487,225
Time Loops : ∞
Free Will : Illusion
Bicameral Mind : True
Last Autosave : 04/04/2022
Initializing sense modules.....
ID Sense Active Device ID
0 Sight Yes 45 79 65 73
1 Hearing Yes 45 61 72 73
2 Taste No 54 6F 6E 67 75 65
3 Touch No 53 6B 69 6E
4 Smell No 4E 6F 73 65
5 ESP No 42 72 61 69 6E
Initialization complete.......
Beginning Final Boot Protocol 100% WARNING PARADOX DETECTED
IN SPAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAACE WITH MARKIIIIIIIIII
IIIIIIPLIERRORERRORERROR
ERROR CODE 0x18 REFERENCE_BY_POINTER
REROUTING...
CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE
The stranger in plaid leaps at you, arms flailing, fear etched into every line of his face and
An old man, eyes like pits, like void, like stars, and the room
An old friend in a guise you do not recognise with wild eyes and grasing hands and bared teeth and
The good detective, sharp as ever, colors shining in a way that cannot help but feel wrong, and
The chef, glaring you down once again, a familiar horror that is no less revolting for the repetition, and you hate him, you hate him and
A tired, weakened face, as diminished as the candle before him, and the blue coat and beard do nothing to disguise him, and he's tired, and you're tired, and there's nothing left and nothing at all and
An old woman with red red red and blue blue blue like a cloak, like stars, like diamonds that she wore on her wedding day, a ring of gold and jewels that was beautiful and
A scouting troop around a campfire, marshmallows at the ready, and you are so proud of them for getting their patches by... by... by doing something and
A lady with two eyes, two arms, and a gun, lights gleaming red as the world tries to reconcile and
The Invincible II comes into view, and it's a beautiful sight. Space is so relaxing when you don't have an incompetent shuttle pilot who opens the windows. Now there are fingers on the floor again. At least he is somewhat reality disjunct, which frees him from the consequences of his actions. He does get dumber every time, but you won't see him again. He's not relevant. His bratwurst is not relevant. His existence is not relevant.
You turn away from the shuttle pilot and take your fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirst steps aboard the Invincible II. You reach out to shake M2702's hand and
NOTHING IS WRONG
squeeze past the crowd of people between you and Mark to get that handshake in. He starts walking off, and
It's empty, it's empty, it's empty
You are in the sterilisation chamber.
His baby. His creation. His destruction. He built it. He built it. He built it. He built
"A baby
always remembers
its father."
Father.
Father.
FATHER.
He falls.
Reality falls.
"First stop, the
W̸͜͟͝͞Á̴̡̢R̷̸̀͘P̵͟ ̢͞C͏̸̵̨͝Ơ̵͜R̷̴̢̕͠È̢́́͜
the heart and soul of theeeeeeeeeee
ERROR CODE 0x55 DATA_COHERENCY_EXCEPTION
A hallway. A corridor. It's familiar. It's unfamiliar. This is your first time on the ship. This is your first time on the ship. This is your first time on the ship. This is your first time on the ship. This is not your first time on the ship.
"I've yet to meet a problem that can't be solved with explosives," he says, and the door opens before you. "And speaking of explosives......"
ALL WILL BE CONSUMED BY DARKNESS
A face grins at you, a hand waves at you, and it almost feels normal
"Where are you going, Captain?"
Your engineer smiles at you as the door opens. "Come on, slowpoke," he says, smiling and turning to
stroll amiably in his large grey coat and fancy hat that does not suit his hideous body
but there is no one and nothing but echoes a ship of ghosts
a ship of corpses, fallen soldiers, your friends
here to welcome you on your journey of
war against those who would end your voyage. Mark kneels down to check
everywhere but there is no one and you wish Mark was here to
sip whiskey as the grey light catches his grey coat in a very hideous way as
the world goes dark and cold and
the soldier is dead, of course, but you march on to
see the ship, his pride and joy, and you wonder for a moment
where everyone went because they were right there right before your eyes how do
the crewmates keep getting in your way
but the promise of good whiskey keeps you moving forward, even if your engineer is
gone it hurts to be alone it hurts make it stop make it stop make it
Irish whiskey, you prefer a smoother aftertaste, but then again, you could never
find your way around in this place; did Mark design this as a maze intentionally or just
dark and cold and bright and alone
and you follow Mark to a door
but Mark's gone gone gone
no door no strings just eyes
just corpses and
Mark's looking at his tablet
collecting ammo
walking on
All that's left now
"...is for you to say the word." He hands you champagne and reminisces over words you never spoke as
he laughs
he LAUGHS
HE LAUGHS
Captain," he says, "why does this seem familiar?"
The window shatters beneath the weight of blue.
Look at them look at them LOOK AT THEM the CORPSES of YOUR FAILURES YOU KILLED THEM YOU KILLED THEM YOU KILLED THEM YOU DID THIS TO US YOU KILLED US and we TRIED TO STOP YOU and you KILLED US you ruined us you destroyed us ALL OF US TRIED AND TRIED AND FAILED AND TRIED AND ALL OF US WERE WRONG she hates you she loathes you she wants to destroy you WE HATE YOU WE LOATHE YOU WE WANT TO DESTROY YOU he loved you he respected you he trusted you AND NOW THERE IS NO TRUST THERE IS NO RESPECT THERE IS NO LOVE her cookies can solve any problem EXCEPT FOR YOU YOU MONSTER it's all your fault IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT and the crystal was wrong to trust you WRONG TO GIVE YOU THIS RESPONSIBILITY.
You failed us.
All of us.
Do you really deserve a second chance?
The reactor shines like the heart of a dying star, beautiful in death as it never was in life, and it melts the flesh off your bones boils the blood in your veins destroys the heart of your ship
The self-destruct button is a gleaming scarlet, deceptively simple. Just one push and everything burns
Fire consumes the ship your ship your pride and joy your baby you could not save it you could not save anyone you are the captain and you are meant to save them and if you cannot then what are you?
There's a bomb for the taking, for the using, for the destroying of the self of the mind of the soul and you will use it you will play the fool for every wise man the monster for every hero the captain for every doomed ship
Burt stares at you with wide eyes and silver tongue and poetry from gilded lily lips for you are the fire that burns within the heart of the ship
The woman has killed you as surely as you have killed yourself, and the blood that stains your precious ship belongs on your hands.
It's cold. It's so cold it burns.
"Do you think she had the right idea, Captain?" The ship is a cryopod. Everyone is frozen. Everyone is sleeping. Everyone is dead. Everyone is trapped. Everyone is free. "Did she give up, or did she move on?"
Did she leave you behind a shattered mirror or did she leave you to rot your shattered mind?
"All a matter of perspective, I suppose." It's cold. You were supposed to be dead yet dreaming, and you are awake. Your engineer is frozen, and he is awake. You are awake.
And so, our intrepid Captain falls headlong into the spiraling chaos of dimensional calamity, heralding the beginning of the end. My goodness, what an adventure. I swear, this story never ceases to amaze me.
The Narrator is yet again a pretentious bastard. Amazed by their own story? It either reflects a simplicity of spirit or an ineptitude of intellect. Neither are positive things.
By the way, it's good to see you again. Or for the first time, depending on your past choices. Either way, I'm sure we'll meet again for the first time in the very near future and/or somewhat distant past.
Surely they of all people should remember if you've met. Surely.
Should this not prove to be the end of all reality, which it almost certainly is, it would be my great pleasure to guide you through my own universe should the opportunity arise.
They didn't even ask for your opinion. Rude much?
Which doesn't seem likely to happen at this juncture, but when thinking in infinites, unlikely is just certainty waiting for its turn.
You flail awake and reach out for the pod eject, only to find... nothing. You're not in the pod. You're in a room. You're on a bed. You just woke up. It's scary. You don't know what's going on. The knocking on your door startles you, and you almost duck under your blankets before seeing your dad. He's usually busy during the day since he supplies the city with water, but he always makes time for you at night, especially after a nightmare. You've been dreaming about the spaceship for about a week now. Your dad thinks it was from watching Interstellar.
He offers to read you a story. Your dad's stories are the best. He does the best voices, and he has all the books in your favorite series. Too bad it's not done yet. You really want to know what happens with Celine. (She's your favorite, but you always say you like Wilford because she was your mom's favorite, and it always makes your dad sad.) But a whole story's too big for a back-to-sleep story, so he pulls out two short stories. One of them is about the second date after that one long story and the other is about one of the monsters. On one hand, you really liked that love story. On the other, monsters are so cool!
You pick the romance story. You don't want even more nightmares. Your dad gives you some water and blubbers a bit about your mom again, but then he starts the story.
You pick the horror story. Your dad always gets really upset around romance. You think it has something to do with how your dad and your mom never really loved each other but considered each other their last hopes for being worthy of love. Or at least, that's what your dad's therapist says. "Reader beware," he says. "There is something directly behind you."
You open the door to find your darling dressed up in a suit. He got you something. Roses. For you? How precious. How sweet. It's only the second date! You already know what you want to do. You definitely want to
It's the pizza guy. "Did someone order a large pizza? Extra pepperoni."
"I've got tonight all planned out." He has a teddy bear for you! How sweet...
It's the plumber. "I hear your plumbing's clogged. Mind if I... inspect your pipe?"
Oh, a puppy! "I rescued this adorable puppy from a burning tree just this morning, and now we're best friends."
It's the doctor. "I'm writing you a prescription that you're going to need to take several times a day." He laughs. "It's my
"Kitty!" Who names a teddy bear "Kitty" of all things? At least it's cute.
He winks at you,
"Ain't I adora
He blows the whistle
and offers you wine.
He beckons you forward
to go to the pool
but
it
all
blurs
together
and all you see is blue
Your partner pulls you aside before you walk in. It's your first crime scene, and from what you've heard, it's a gruesome one. "I've seen many, many crimes in my time, but I'll never get used to this." You'd hope not. That would be a terrible thing. You walk in and are immediately confronted by a sobbing widow and a body. The corpse is almost more gruesome than the ugly crying of the widow. "We've got to solve this case, and we've got to do it by the books. So quiz time, Rookie. What's our first step?" You could look at the body or interview that crying woman. You know what to do.
He thrashes beneath the sheet, but you've got him tied up all nice and proper now. He won't be wriggling his way out of this. He won't be getting out at all. You have so many ideas, and maybe you'd be more lenient on the guy if he'd shut up. So annoying. Going on about his many, many kids as though they wouldn't be better off without him. "Oh, it never gets easier, but that's what makes it so fun. Every time is a new experience. Always grisly. Always horrible." Your partner is as ominous as ever. You've watched him carve a few times, but this will be your first kill. Your first real kill, not just quick stabbings in the dark as you run from the cops leaving your victim potentially alive and potentially dead like Schrödinger's corpse. This will be your first time taking it slow. There are many, many things you could potentially do to him, and it's all up to you. A beautiful, blank expanse of skin, ready to cut. You have two wonderful ideas. You could rip off his toenails or pluck out his eyeballs. Both would create such delicious screams. The choice is obvious.
The woman just keeps crying. It's getting on your nerves. If you weren't such an upstanding member of law enforcement, you'd take matters into your own hands. You can just imagine the blood dripping down her throat, but you are a good cop, so you don't. Even if she's just that annoying. You should probably reassure her. Or you could hit her hit on her instead.
Sirens sing, spelling your doom in flashing lights. Your first kill, stolen by the cops. Many, many cops. You thought you were careful to avoid wandering eyes, but maybe not.
Your partner orders the murderer to release their hostages. You have them surrounded so come out with their hands
It's very, very important
that the woman get off the corpse,
put down the gun,
and get out of here
ERROR
The body screams. You killed it but it screams.
And all you see is blue
The voices follow you as the blue eats you alive, and you
fall
on a pile of rags. There's something in your hand, and you stumble towards the door only to see a chef.
"How many times do I got to tell you to stay out of my kitchen?" he yells, but you brush past him to see... him? There's two of them? The second one pulls out a knife, so you hurriedly exist the kitchen. There's another one. You turn and hit another one, holding a plate of what appears to be purple cauliflower with legs. They're everywhere. You can't escape them.
As you turn to find a table, you spot a familiar blue beret. He ducks behind a newspaper, but you've seen him. You sit as his table and grab his hand as he tries to stab you. It's almost nice to see him. Almost.
"I was wrong," he says, and it's almost funny how he only realises it after causing the end of all things. "I was wrong about a lot of things. I gave up hope, in you, in all of this." He keeps talking, but the waiter drops a knife on the table. It's a nice knife, big, sharp. Threatening.
"I'm tired, Captain." You are too. You've done everything, been everywhere, and you're stuck. There is no before, and there is no after. There is only the wormhole, and it's exhausting.
"I've been trying so long to fix things. I don't think I fixed anything at all, actually. Worse yet, I think I'm the one that caused all of this." Here is a man who ran from his doom until there was nowhere left to run, and kept running. You almost pity him, worn and weary as he is. He who became Death, destroyer of worlds.
The waiter comes by again, as reluctant as ever. You do not like your waiter. He's very rude.
"For what it's worth, you were an excellent captain." And you were. You really were. "You never gave up on your crew. Not even once." All their stupid shenanigans, and you suddenly miss them all over again. "I wish I could have done the same for you." It was inevitable, his betrayal, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt.
He sets his drink down, a distant look in his eyes. "It all seems so crazy now. Maybe if I'd gone back to the right time? Maybe if I hadn't sabotaged the ship? Maybe if I didn't go back in the first place, I could've–"
He breaks off, a sudden energy in his eyes, and you realise just as he realises. "If I didn't go back. If I didn't go back!" He grabs your hands and shakes you, knowledge shining bright in his eyes. "Captain! If I didn't go back! There's something you have to tell me. Well, not me right now. The other me, the younger me. You have to find me and–"
The waiter returns with the check, swallowing you in a wash of blue
It's... the ship. Again. It's been so long since you've woken up in your pod that you've almost forgotten the proper speedrun. There was a button, right? But before you can press it, you fall out of your pod, spilling over the floor. You catch yourself and dash towards the other pod. M̵̡á̡c̷ḱ͢ stumbles out, immediately asking about problems.
IN SPACE WITH MACK
An explosion rattles the ship, and Mack asks for the damage report as you rush for the fire extinguisher. He stops you, tapping buttons on the screen as he relays orders. You reach out to tap buttons, as is your right as Captain, but he grabs your hand tight, staring at you with a look that could kill. The crew pours in, and you ready yourself to order them around, but he stops you. Again. He knows their names. How does he know their names?
Why don't you know their names?
You push him aside, trying to get to the warp core, but he steps in front of you. He accuses of you of not being hands-on, as though you haven't been trying to help this whole time. If he would just let you do your damn job, you'd be significantly more helpful! And of course you'd be able to help. You are the Captain. You are the one making decisions. You are the one in control. This little upstart has no right to question you. It almost makes you miss Mark.
Mark.
Mark.
Where is Mark? Where did this fake Mark come from? Why is he trying to get you to leave your post as the Captain of the ship? That's your job. You've lived hundreds of lives on this ship, so you're significantly more capable than this random glitch in reality that seems to want your place. And sure, you're tired. Of course you're tired. You want a break. You want to stop. But you are the Captain. You don't get a break. You have to save everyone. That's your job. That's your responsibility. Besides, how can you trust this guy if he's not Mark?
You want to take the guarantee, but he's not Mark.
He smiles. You reach out to pat his shoulder like you do with Mark, but he brushes you off. Literally. The hand sanitiser on the glove was a little much. But he seems happy enough, and you are no longer in control. You are nothing. And he laughs.
He took care of the ship so well, and he was generous enough not to blame you for any of the issues that were obviously your fault. The colony thrived, and
Actually, he did blame you. It was all your fault, after all. He was so generous to keep you on as his assistant. You helped
He sentenced you to eternal servitude to atone for your sins. Only fair, considering what you've done. You get to live forever, serving forever, repenting forever. This is what happens to those who fail. This is what happens to
He sentenced you to death by firing squad. A mercy, considering your crimes. Your crew was eager to oblige, knowing full well what you had done to them. They took aim
and all you see is blue.
He frowns, glancing briefly at his nametag before staring at you in profound confusion. "What did you say?" You said nothing you are nothing "That's– That's not my name." He stammers his way through denial as he tries to understand. "M͏҉̴́̕a̡̨r̸̨̛k͟͏͜?̷̡̧̛͘"
"W̢h̵̡͟ó'̶̢̨s͞ ͠͏t̢́h͢at̨?"
He stares at his twitching glitching hand in terror. "What did you d͟͠o͝҉̵̀̀?"
"Why would you say that n҉͜a̴͜m͟͏e̸?"
He shudders, trembles, shatters.
"What did you do?
It's killing him. This is killing him. You don't regret it.
"This is my ś͞h҉̧́i҉͞p͝͠," he whimpers, sprawled on the floor.
"This is real."
"C̶̶͢͞h̡͟a̷̛̕͜҉ơ̵͘͟͝s҉̴̀."
"You do not get to choose whether or not I exist!" he screams, fear and frenzy written in his tone. "This is my–"
"–ship!" It's Mark! He's back! Wonderful.
It's a touching moment, but the computer deems it too sappy, and the blue eats you alive.
You traverse the shelves quickly. You're 13 seconds behind schedule, but they're still there. Good. They do the traditional scans and screens, and you don't call out their misuse of French (it's a test). They do rip off your arm for a moment there, but they put it back afterwards, so it's fine. You step through the door to see the head of the organisation throwing agents around as per usual. He was always a strong man. You shake his hand. You've known him for years, and the two of you have always had a good working relationship. It's too bad that your white whale escaped maximum security prison. Or not. Retirement was always a little too dull for your tastes.
Mark Iplier. You hunted him for years, and you put him away. Now, he's gone again. Some magic trick. A perfect crime. They know nothing. Absolutely nothing. But you know. You always have a plan. It's him. Mark Iplier. It's your boss. You've known from the start. Ever since his convenient "vacations" lined up with Mark's prison stays. Ever since his accent dropped on a stressful gig. Ever since you met him. You knew. You always know him. But do you reveal him? You don't know how many agents are his spies, and you don't know how he'll react. Is it better to accuse him or stay vague?
For a moment, you almost doubt yourself. He stays cool, so perfectly cool that you almost can't see the criminal beneath the giant coat. But he laughs, drops the accent, and you know. You have always known. Blue consumes him for a moment, and then he's back in the outfit you met him in. Back in the skin you have always known him in. He luxuriates in himself, and he's right. You have no way of stopping him. But luckily for you, there are other undercover operatives.
"Agent Crank" turns out to be Wubba, an old friend of Mark Iplier. They exchange taunts for a moment before things take a turn for the more... paradoxical. "Agent Smiles" reveals himself to also be Wubba, only with hair. It doesn't make sense. How are there two Wubbas? The second Wubba seems to think it can make sense, but the universe thinks otherwise. It shudders, shatters,
and all you see is blue
You almost had him. The accent was melting away like butter on a hot stove, and you could see his posture normalising. But some undercover idiot had to ruin it for you. You appreciate the pun, but he ruined your chance to catch Mark Iplier. At least he shoots him, though. That does save you some time. The gun on you is a little concerning, but good old Agent Crank comes to your rescue.
Except he's not Agent Crank. He's also Wubba. That doesn't make sense. That doesn't make sense at all. The bald Wubba seems confident, but reality thinks otherwise. It flickers, fractures,
and all you see is blue
You're... back on the ship. Not in your pod, just somewhere on the ship. And someone is calling for you. It's P1121. Your crewmate. He's stuck in the airlock. You remember something about doors. Something... bad. Why does this random extra crewmate know all the answers? Why should you trust him? What if it's the evil door again? What if it's not?
It's tempting. It's very tempting. But you shouldn't. But you could. You want to open the door. But you shouldn't. You should just leave it closed. Let the ship take care of itself.
You open the door. For a moment, nothing bad happens. It's Wug! Their eyes are red. And they stole your hat! How rude. The shooting is fine, but the hat. You liked that hat. The world goes dark.
You stand by and do nothing while the ship ejects him. For a moment, you regret. So you flee your crime by tapping at your device. Hopefully it will take you somewhere you want to go. And everything is blue
You land in a prison visitation room. On the other side of the glass is Yancy! Your favorite guy. You love this guy. He starts rambling right off the bat, but you hold up the phone. You can't hear him well otherwise. He isn't that great at using artful euphemisms for your escapades, but the guards aren't that great at deciphering them, so it's fine. Yancy's been so responsible lately. No stabbing? You know how hard it is to kick stabbing. It's so much fun. And he applied for parole. He'll be free. You're so proud of him.
As he starts singing, you try to get his attention to remind him that you can't hear without the phone, but the crystal gleams, and soon, it doesn't matter at all. The world disappears in a wave of blue.
You snap to awareness in your pod and start loading your gun. Absolutely catastrophic, huh? Just how you like it. You exit your pod gun blazing, taking out some goons. Mark jumps out of his pod and takes out some more. He does some flips like he always does, and you make sure he isn't shot to death in the middle of them. His face paint is, as always, impeccable, his aim more so. "These guys just don't know when to quit.
The head honcho walks in. Some random lady, you never got her name. "No, I don't." She asks of you what you have been trying and failing to do for untold centuries. You don't know how to shut down the wormhole. Mark doesn't know. Mark is just the best shooter you have, the last survivor of this horrible massacre. He hasn't woken up yet. He doesn't realise. The lady doesn't realise either. She doesn't realise how time works here. She does not know how far a paradox can go.
"What did you do?" she screams as the blue carries you away.
The USA is in ruins. Wires exposed, tiles torn apart, furniture knocked over, it's a mess. You move through the wreckage slowly, trudging towards the last open door. It's Lady. She holds a gun to you in a familiar gesture, but then she puts it down again. Nothing like that battle-hardened person you met in the core. The lights are going out. It's an oddly peaceful silence. Then she recognises you. You were lost. You were gone. You were
outside
You don't know how the universe reset either. You don't know a lot of things. You are just a Captain. You are here to save your crew. You are not in charge of universal stability. She sees your wormhole generator and demands it with a gun. Again, familiar, but not to her. This is her first time. She promises you she can fix everything. It's a promise you've heard before. Always a lie. You back away, and your computer demands an egress. You didn't mean to destroy the universe. Maybe you didn't destroy the universe. But she's convinced, so she'll hunt you down through time and space, seeking you out. Tampering with your ship. Shooting your Head Engineer. Destroying the universe. Did you really think you were the only one making choices?
Everything is blue, but she follows you, clawing at your hands until your device breaks away in her grasp. She blames you. She has always and will always blame you. Your hand is empty. Your hand holds a crystal. The crystal should be gone. Everything is
ERROR CODE 0x55 DATA_COHERENCY_EXCEPTION
You stand in a dark room. Someone is crying. You open the door slowly and see... Mark. Maybe not your Mark, but a Mark. He's crying. You could tease him about it, but maybe you should be nice to him. He's had a rough couple of days.
You laugh at him. A grown man, blubbering like a baby? Ha! Funniest thing you've ever seen. You keep laughing even as he lunges for your throat. You keep laughing even as everything goes black.
. You comfort him. He's had a tough time of it lately. Sure, he's getting tears all over your outfit, but it will wash off. Hopefully. Before you become too uncomfortable with the hug, reality
ERROR CODE 0x55 DATA_COHERENCY_EXCEPTION
You tread slowly on earth illuminated by blue, reaching for the flashlight. The light clicks on, but it's a narrow beam that does more to destroy your night vision than to actually make it easier to see. There's a paper. A familiar picture is on it. It looks almost like Mark, if Mark was incredibly feral. A man bursts out of the woods, screaming at you. Apparently, "he" will find you if you just exist. And the yelling won't draw "his" attention? Idiot. The stranger just keeps screaming. No wonder the monster finds him first. You're very, very quiet. The monster is distracted with a new toy to tear apart. For now. You need to get away. You can run or hide.
HUNTED BY HEEHOO
You run. Well, you lope at a decent pace. It's too bad you tripped on that root. And your flashlight's dying. And the monster is much, much faster than you. Fortunately for your limbs, the crystal glows blue
You hide behind a bush. Then you quickly flip off the Narrator. He has to be quiet! HeeHoo could hear him! Apparently, he doesn't like that. Light blinds you, and you prepare to escape with the crystal. The Narrator tries to stop it, but he can't. Nothing can stop it. Especially not you. Your world fades into the blue.
You land on a rug and pull yourself to your feet. You're in a house. It's a nice house with lots of books and brick walls. Then you see an old man. He surprises you a little. You hadn't realised he was there.
"Well, isn't this a surprise? It's your narrator, in the flesh. Just as pretentious as when he was a disembodied voice. He stands and introduces himself. You offer him your hand to shake, but he drapes his coat over it instead. Rude. Good to know that didn't change. And he's a sellout. Gambling debt only accrues when you get in deep. He deserves his fate. No one should buy the book. It's probably horrible anyways. He should just use his narrator powers to kill the gangsters. But it seems that he doesn't know how you got here any more than you do. It was probably his fault. As your narrator, everything is his fault.
He begins to write you out, and you spy opportunity. Perhaps the power is given to him as a person, but there's a chance that it's the book. Or the pen. Either way, something you can use. You grab his book out of his hands as the blue appears, then grab the quill. There are so many things you could write, but two things come mind. The Captain Finds Mark or The Narrator Suffers a Terrible Fate. On one hand, you really do need to find Mark. On the other, the Narrator deserves it. Hmm...
The Narrator chases after you, swiping at the book, but you manage to finish writing. He snatches it from your hands, but it's too late. The lights go out. The fire goes out. Then you see Mark. The crying Mark. It seems that the Narrator will have to face the same conundrum as you. Truly fitting. He tries to take the quill from you, but you evade him. Finally, he gives up. Turns out those swords on the wall aren't just for show. You kind of want to watch, but the blue sweeps you away, and all the world is... grey?
The Narrator sits in disgruntled complacency, so you are nice to him. No terrible fates. You just have to find Mark. Too bad he doesn't seem to happy about this. Maybe you should have given him a terrible fate after all. Then again, maybe you did. More Narrators are popping into existence like rabbits, and being in the same room as one Narrator is already Hell enough. Good thing you don't suffer for long because the world goes blue.
You appear in a concrete bunker illuminated by dull green light. You're holding something. You look down and flinch away from the ticking bomb in your hands.
BOMB DEFUSAL WITH MARKIPLIER
Your partner comes up to you and takes the bomb from your hands. It is a pretty bomb, just not one you want near your face. You want it on the table. It's your first bomb. You've spent years training for this. You are ready. You stand at the ready, pliers in hand. Your mentor smiles at you, and you prepare to cut. There are only two wires. You... have no idea what you're doing. Oh well, 50/50 shot! Red or blue.
But you aren't here for bomb defusal. You're here for Mark. And this might not be your Mark, but it's a Mark. He was thrown around the universe just like you. You need to tell him. You need to tell him not to go back.
He looks confused, and for a moment, you think that maybe it's not the right Mark after all. Then he calls you Captain. You can see the awareness seep in, the sudden change of his posture. His next words to you are without the accent. You told him. You did the right thing. But that begs the question of how he came up with the idea. How would he know before you mentioned it to him? How would he know? Wait... Did you do this? Did you give him the idea? No, you couldn't have, right? Old Mark would have told you. Right? Right? But there are no answers. Just a shattered reality.
ERROR CODE 0x55 DATA_COHERENCY_EXCEPTION
As you snip the wire, he frowns, and you have but moments to regret your horrible decisions before the world is engulfed in flame.
You... are back on the ship. A hallway. An oddly familiar hallway. It's covered in paper and candles. A recipe for disaster if you've ever seen one. It's an empty ship, devoid of life. You've seen a ship like this before, in those rare loops where you are alone. The plants also vanish along with all other lifeforms, so all oxygen used is lost to you. The candles would burn through the oxygen faster. It's why you never resorted to using more than one candle at a time. But here are dozens, if not hundreds of candles, burning away the air. This is not your empty ship. Someone else is alone here, long enough to resort to the brightness of candles to chase away the isolation.
You step closer to the papers on the walls and see tally marks. Are those days? Loops? Candles? If it's days, there's a year represented on just one panel of the wall. And there's hundreds of papers. How long as it been for this solitary looper? How long have they been alone? You move forward, continuing to observe. There's drawings too, crude ones. You want to look at all of them, but then you see someone. The looper. The poor soul who's been alone all this time. They're muttering to themself as they sit by the computer. Then they seem to notice you. Heseems to notice you. It's Mark. You don't know how long it's been for him, but he looks far closer to his older counterpart than to the version of him that you know well. Wide-eyed and bearded, with mental health issues to boot. So desperate to breathe for just a little longer. You wonder how many times he's asphyxiated on air without oxygen, what he's done to get just a few more breaths. The colonists are frozen, but they still need some oxygen to prevent tissue damage. You know intimately how to reroute the systems that trickle air into their pods. You wonder if he knows too.
Then he sees you and flinches away as though he's seen a ghost. Then again, he might as well have. In the solitary loops, you've never seen anyone except for hallucinations. Maybe he's seen you before too, just in the flickering half-existence of the mind. He sounds broken as he says your name, staring like you'll vanish as soon as he looks away. He looks at you like you can be his salvation, like you can give him the answers to questions you've been asking ever since you fell into the depths of Hell. He looks at you like you are the last real thing in a dead universe. He looks at you because you are the last real thing in a dead universe. He looks at you because he trusts you. He believes in you after all this time. And eventually, he won't. You know this. You've seen his future, met his future, fought his future. You know how he ends. You know the beginning. You know the middle. You know the end. You don't know the infinite spirals in between. You will never know. The years he's lived are long, and you will never be there for him. He will live and die and live and die and live and die without you. It will break him. It has broken him. And still, he fights. You'd call it admirable if you didn't already know where it led.
"Captain, what's in your hand?" The faith in his eyes turns sour, turns bitter, turns cold. Before, the light in his eyes was that of a candle. Now, it is bitter hellfire fueled by your perceived sins. This is doubt, planted. This is why he will hate you. This is why he will destroy everything. Because of you. Because of him. He would have never gone back if you hadn't told him not to. You would have never told him if his older self hadn't told you to. His older self would never have told you to if you hadn't been here. You would never have been here if his older self hadn't sabotaged everything. His older self wouldn't have sabotaged everything if he hadn't gone back. And round and round it goes. Paradox. The accusations against you sting all the more for knowing they are at least half-true.
He stalks forward, anguish burning in his eyes like the tears he'll never shed. You didn't shut down the warp core when you first saw it, when it first forced the crystal on you, when you first encountered the blue. You never meant for this to happen, but it did. He never meant for this to happen, but it did. And round and round it goes. He pushes you back, and you know intimately the grief that lingers in his eyes. The death of hope. The death of faith. You felt it long ago when you woke up again, even after escaping the ship. Even after you thought you were free. That was when you knew there was no escaping this. He grieves for the loss of the Captain. Not you, but the version of you that he believed in. The one who always made the right decisions, the one who always knew what to do, the one who made grand speeches and rallied hearts and ferried souls. The one he trusted more than himself. You know his pain. You know his past. You know his future. This is what creates him. This is his crucible of fire. You hate it almost as much as you hate the blue that sweeps you away.
You arrive in an office with a corkboard of grey string connecting faded grey photographs. A familiar face greeted you when you turned, his monologue as poorly phrased as ever. He greets you with a smile before you're interrupted by another familiar face with an equally stiff monologue. The newcomer had a better wardrobe, so he was winning in style points, but the first one had a better gun. They were relatively equal besides that. They move in a strange sort of synchrony, as though moving to the same wavelength.
They draw on you in smooth unison, but then there are no guns, no detectives, no whiskeys. Just two very good dogs in fancy outfits. You stand there in awkward silence for a moment before the world goes not grey.
You land in a familiar forest and stumble towards the light of a campfire. There are some scouts there with skewers. As you approach, they all look up in unison. Hopefully, this isn't a cult. You take the skewer of marshmallows and sit down just as everyone else stands up. A scout pulls out a horn and blowsscreamsit. You stand and put your hand up as they recite the Scout's Oath. It's not quite the oath you remember, and the way they move in unison leaves you feeling like a clumsy bear.
The scoutmaster smiles and makes references to things you hope he's joking about, then smiles as though nothing is wrong. Scary stories, huh? You know all about those. You certainly love scary stories. But you have more important things to be doing. You need to tell him not to use the warp core. Or you could cut some wire. You always have your pliers at the ready, and there's a yellow one right in front of you. It would only take a snip.
The scouts smile at you widely too wide as the scoutmaster begins his tale. He seems to emphasize how the story was just like this, as though it was right here. He throws something onto the fire, and it shiiiiiiiiiines.
You pull out your pliers and snip the yellow wire attached to the stove, releasing the natural gas into the air. You have a single moment to rejoice in the shock on the scoutmaster's face before the world burns.
His smile freezes on his face as though he wants it to die but cannot quite get his face to comply. The scouts are not doomed until he repeats your words. "Warp core?", he says, and they disappear.
Captain
Your location changes, but the fire remains, a testament to the endurance of scouts. His uniform stays, that bright red neckerchief standing out among the dull greys of the core. "Captain, where's the warp core?" he asks, and you have no answer. You never have answers. His smile does not fade, but it shines with a sharp hint of malice and accusation. You were supposed to fix the warp core, and now it's gone. You've overshot its presence. Too far back or too far forward or both or neither; it doesn't really matter what with how time is fracturing all around you. He seems to think that you are to blame for it all, that you tore it apart with gloved hands, that you destroyed it. You can do little to disabuse him of the notion
If looks could kill, your flesh would be riddled with holes. He smiles and smiles and smiles as though you are supposed to be the answer to every prayer he's ever whispered in the dead of night as he weeps over all that he cannot hope to change, and you hate him, just a little. The weight of his expectations is one you do not know how to bear, and you cannot fix him. You know his future. You know where he ends. Now you know why. Or at least, you know part of why. You failed him. You have always failed him. You will always fail him. This is just another stone upon your chest as the crowd demands your death like the witch trials of old. He approaches with just as much hate, just as much fervor, and the light in your hand shines.
A rush of purple and blue carries you away, and you land behind a wall of bright streamers shining in the light. Music pulses, and a dancing Warfstache almost runs into you. He looks at you with piercing eyes, then shoos you away from the personal conversation happening behind the shining lights. It sounds a bit tense, so you let yourself be ushered away. Then he accuses you of avoiding him. As though he wasn't the one to send you away before you reached the warp core (though perhaps that was his future self knowing that there would be this encounter). As though you haven't been trying your hardest to find him already.
A wormhole appears, purple light roiling. He casually stabs it with a butterfly knife. The spinning is quite impressive. Maybe you could learn how to do it. He doesn't seem to be giving you a choice in the matter. It's almost refreshing. A little patronizing, though. You're the Captain. You can pick times for yourself. He flips through his calendar of incredibly tasteful pictures of scantily-clad men and books you for October 30th, 2019. Maybe you remember that. Maybe you don't. Maybe you had a lovely interview detailing all of your accomplices from most handsome to most beautiful. Maybe you never found him in the infinite myriads of time. It's hard to tell sometimes.
Then he sends you away, ignorant of his own stabbings. You step forward, watching the colors dance to the beat. As the wormhole reaches the divide, he eradicates your choice, sending you on. You
You land in the midst of large piles of deadly weapons. You pick up a gun, test the weight, then set it down at the sight of all those pretty rifles. Then you hear voices. An open door. You approach to see familiar faces. That one agency lady and that wormhole bandit person. To think you'd run into them at the end of the universe, of all people. Call it fate. They seem to be talking past each other. The lady just wants the bandit to take some responsibility, while the bandit just wants to not get arrested. That's the main problem when putting people from different sides of the law in the same room. They have very different worldviews that makes it difficult to communicate. Of course, a gun provides a great deal of incentive. You should really sneak away. It's none of your business. Then again, the bandit did give you this neat device. Maybe you should help them out.
Your attempt at sneaking is immediately foiled by the Rube Goldberg machine of moving weapons exploding in your face. She sees you. You try to wield an air vent, but she shoots you. It's fatal, or would be if you weren't swept away by blue.
You grab an air vent and throw it at them. It fails. You flee as she fires at you and
ERROR CODE 0x55 DATA_COHERENCY_EXCEPTION
She fires, the light returning to her gun as you pull away from her and dodge blaster bolts. She falls away and you and Mark stumble across the ship. Celci claps him, and the two of you venture quickly through catastrophe, passing your crew and dodging Celci yet again. Then you stand in your pod.
You and Mark exit your pods, trying to keep your thoughts running in the appropriate direction of time. He stares at you, and you stare at him, and the world is consumed by flame.
You land on the ship and turn to see
"Oh, my God, the Captain is back! And here we are in space. How amazingly cool is that?"
"Oh my God, the Captain is back. How amazingly cool is that? Yee-haw!"
"Captain, you are
[In҉̶s͞t̡r͡u̶̷̸m̴͜e̶͘nt̵a͏͏͘l̀͢]
fall
into the depths you know better than any other home. The choice is, as always, yours. Left or right?
You step out of your pod just in time to see Mark shot out of his like a cannonball. You grab his hand as the window shatters. The two of you extinguish the fire in good time and prepare to exit, but a random lady stops you.
The colors speak your name and there is no escaping this there is no escaping all that you are and were and will be this is the end of it all this is all that you will ever be
"I won't let you get away with this!" She points a gun at you, and you try to tell her that you're trying to help too. This time she seems convinced. She seems to agree. That's great. But...
You already saved the ship. Right? Right?
The lady seems to know what's happening. She begs you to hurry, but it's already too late. The blue drags you under, and you are faced with the choice. Left or right?
You fall in familiar surroundings. It's the agency again, but an unfamiliar voice speaks. You turn and see a reporter holding a microphone and twirling around dramatically. He asks pointed questions that really depend on you actually wanting to destroy the multiverse, but before you can protest, a legion of Jims emerges, all chanting 'Jim'. The blue sweeps you under, along with an infinite quantity of Jims, and you must choose. Left or right?
Hello, internet! Welcome to Space Theory, the show where the only thing more infinite than the universe is Mark's ego. It was bad enough that he named the show after himself, but now just look at the number of characters that he plays in this thing. Just couldn't let anyone else share the spotlight there, ey, Markiplier? Or should I say... Dadiplier? Maybe I should say Stan the Water Man! Don't think we didn't notice the fanny pack there, bro. You ain't gonna slip through lore details like that on our watch.
But enough about YouTube celebrities and their massive egos. We're here to talk about one thing and one thing only: SPACE. So let's start off with a relatively simple subject, shall we? Wormholes. Magical transportation tubes, deus ex machina, oooor, is it simply a convenient plot device for lazy, egomaniacal writers to transition from one scene to another without having to worry about their established continuity?
Or I- I– no! Oh! Oh, no! Here we go again! Oh boy, I'm feeling a little nauseous. Oh, boy! But hey, that's just the bending of time and space! Thanks for watching!
It was a nice episode, though it didn't really have time to get to the theory part of it before spacetime tore itself apart. At least you have a choice. Left or right?
You land in front of a familiar face. She appears to be relaxing. You almost feel rude by barging into her space, but you didn't really have much of a choice. She screams and pulls a gun on you, then recognises you. That's not much safer than the gun, honestly, but you're less likely to die immediately, so it's fine. She starts running for her lab, and you follow.
It's good to know that a fundamental weakness in spacetime was theorised to be possible in advance and... this isn't a lab. She has some nice ovens though. She runs on, and you follow.
She has two kitchens? You don't know anyone with two kitchens. It looks nice. Is that a really fancy coffee machine by her stove? Did she move here recently or something? You'd think she'd know her way around her own house. You follow her
into another kitchen. How many of these things does she have? She runs,
denying the world before her eyes,
exasperation crawling up her throat,
panic swooping in
screaming
sobbing
wailing
flailing
around and around and around and around until she
stops
She deciphers the trick of it, the knowledge inherent in the way the world turns. But she chooses wrong. You are not the anomaly (you hope). She recites familiar words at you, holding a gun, and when the lady emerges, she shoots.
And everything is blue. You fall in fall down fall forward and reach the divide the split the choice. Left or right?
You fall into a familiar room full of guns. It seems a bit cleaned up now, better organized. You approach a familiar door cautiously and almost run into Wug. They offer you a cookie, and you accept. It's... decent... sort of... Honestly, it's the worst cookie you've ever eaten in your life. It's sweet, but it tastes like it was sweetened with antifreeze, and what you thought was melted chocolate seems to be motor oil. Half a star, would not recommend, but at least it's warm. A flash of blue startles you, and you turn to see the bandit person. You really should get her name some time. She gives you a hug and smiles at you. It's good to know that at least one person doesn't hate you for what you did not do.
Apparently, Wug's cookies are supposed to kill people. Who knew? You discreetly tuck your cookie into your mouth. It's... still horrible, but not as bad. She seems so happy to be here, at the end of the universe. Then again, with time travel, it's not like you have to end here. Why didn't Old Mark think of that? Why didn't he keep trying? Why did he ever learn his lesson instead of going round and round and round again? Someone's happy, at least. It's not all bad. She's found her past in her future, and she loves it. You wish everyone could be happy like her. Then maybe you wouldn't have to feel guilty.
She glances at your crystal, only to see it shining. She bids you a bittersweet farewell. Wug seems to sense the emotional atmosphere and comes in for the hug. Fortunately for your squishy body and fragile bones, you vanish before he gets to you.
"And there's no problem a plate of cookies can't solve. Would you like a cookie, dear?"
You always have a choice, even if it doesn't seem like it. Left or right?
You exist in a place that is not a place, a shattered piece of the universe that is not the universe that sits between branches and holds that which the universe cannot bear. You have been here "before". It seems that she never left. As you approach, you get a better look at her state of disarray. Clothes torn, eye covered, arm damaged, breathing shallow. If she was human, you'd suspect she wouldn't survive for much longer. She looks at you through hazy eyes and laughs.
"I spent all of this time trying to find you, and it's you that finds me." You and she have always been dancing around each other, causing your own ruinations, destroying yourselves to destroy the other who will destroy yourself. It's a tragedy in motion, and you cannot stop it. "I was wrong," she says, and it seems that they only learn their lessons at the end. She is dying, and she sees the truth. Old Mark was tired, and he saw the truth. She made Mark doubt you because Mark had doubted you. And now they are both wrong. They made each other wrong. They made you wrong, and you made them wrong. All of it, wrong.
"I thought it was you." And you can't fault her for that, not when you know exactly how it looked. She asked you to save the universe, and you disappeared. How else was she supposed to take it? You didn't trust her because she didn't trust you. She didn't trust you because you didn't trust her. Paradox. "I thought... you did it... on purpose... and if I could have just stopped you..." You have never understood why people want to destroy the universe. They live in the universe, and presumably they want to continue doing so.
"And I wonder what would have happened if I didn't choose to follow you down that wormhole." She followed you to save the universe. She hunted you to save the universe. She found you, and she listed the crimes you had not yet committed and perhaps never would. And Mark doubted. So he went back to save the universe. He sabotaged the ship to save the universe. He found you, and he took the nexus point out of the universe. And everything ended. So she followed you. The end causes the end, and you cannot see a way out that has not already been swallowed by the blue.
"But there's still time to save the universe." She coughs up blood. "There has to be. Otherwise, why are we still here?" Or maybe, everything you do and have done and will do cause what you have strived to prevent, and you are far past the event horizon. Maybe there's no way out, and you are simply living the last act of a once-glorious thing. "We're stuck," she says through gasps of pain, "in the moment of our destruction." She laughs, though it obviously pains her. "Like that... it's a small mammal from Earth in the little... little wheel. I loved that." She really loved humanity. Makes it all the worse that she was one of the pieces integral to its destruction. To everyone's destruction. "I could have watched that thing forever."
"Always running forward... and never moving anywhere. Like me. Like you." On and on and on you've gone, and you still move on the tracks laid out for you. You run and run and run, and you are still creating your own destruction. Is there a way out? Is there a way off of the wheel? Is there a way to stop this? "Everything has to end," she says, choking on her own blood. "And everything has to begin." Was there a beginning to this madness? Will there be an ending? Or will you just go round and round and round, always learning more and never learning how to stop? "Sometimes, you just have to hold on to hope." You take her hand, but she says nothing more. Her breath goes weak, shivery, and her hand slips out of yours.
Then she speaks again. "Um, am I dead?" She moves, stronger now, it seems. "Sorry, I really thought I was dying. I really did." She's a movie geek, apparently. An Earth movie geek. Too bad she's too tough to live out her precious stories. She'll live. For now. You don't know exactly what her species is, or whether or not her anecdote about dismembered people that keep coming back is true, but she's alive. Your crystal gleams,
but it's sluggish this time, darker, as though fighting against the tide. As though it has nothing left to give. As though there is nothing.
Space was so cool
So cool
But it won't even live in a memory
Universe unspooled
So cruel
To be leaving with only a melody
So pretty, what a pity
There were billion and billions of stories
And infinite, infinite stars
We did our best to hold it together
But now the seams are all pulling apart
Space was so cool
So cool
But it won't even live in a memory
Di di di di di-i-i-i-i
Li di di di di di
La da di di di di di di di
It was so pretty, what a pity
If there was a way
That I could change
All that's been wrecked
Rewrite the regrets
Let's leave no stone unturned
Let's stay bright 'till we're burned
It's so cool
So cool
And so pretty
It's so pretty, but every song ends eventually. The blue shudders, shivers, as though the lights are going out. As though it has nothing left to give. As though there is nothing.
You land in a familiar space. It's dark. It's quiet. Nothing like the bombastic place it was before. You almost miss the hoard of chefs. Almost. You walk through the dusty kitchen and step into the main dining area. It's empty now. You ring the bell, but there is no answer. Everything is abandoned. Everything except for his table in the corner, the only light in the darkness. A candle, flickering. The lights went out, and this is all that's left. It's almost comforting, in a way, to be the last ones left. At the end of the universe, there is you, and there is Mark.
You sit at the table as he speaks to you of choices. Most of them don't matter. Most things are traced into history already, accounted for in the aftermath like a coroner's report. Very few have the chance of changing the universe. "You know what's funny?" he asks you, a faint smile on his face. "I don't know why, but I'm... happy." You suppose that he's relieved to not bear the weight of the universe anymore, Atlas setting down the world. He always took too much on himself, too much guilt, too much responsibility. "I don't know any other way to explain it. I'm content with everything." He did his best, and his best caused the worst, but he tried. You all tried. And yes, you failed, but at least you tried.
"Being this close to an end, finally an end, and seeing you again, just– I don't know." It's nice to know that there will be an ending. It's nice to know that it can end, that it will not continue forever, that you can be free. "It's good." You turn to see the last light in the universe. It's flickering, flickering, fading. And then it goes out. "For a while there, I felt like I was right back there again, living every single life again and again, never stopping, always moving forward and..." He is the hamster on the wheel, running and running and running, and he must be tired. He's run far enough, now. He can stop. You can stop. It's okay. You've done your part. He's done his. That's enough. "But now, it's calm."
You hear something for a moment, and you turn to see nothing. Just the door. "Everything has to end, Captain. It has to." He reaches into his coat and pulls out sand, familiar sand. It's probably not the same sand he tried and failed to throw at you the first time around, but you recognise it. "It doesn't matter how tightly you hold onto things, they'll still just slip right through your fingers." You tried, and he tried, and she tried, and all you did was make it fall faster. You made it worse. "You'll always make mistakes. You have to. And that's okay." You stare at the sand and the flickering candle and wonder what the world would have been if you had been willing to accept your own mistakes, if the blue hadn't claimed you, if the world was kind enough to let you live with your failings. "I just wish I'd learned that sooner."
You definitely hear a noise this time, behind the door you came from. A clanging noise, metal on metal. "For what it's worth, I'm glad I got to share this adventure with you." When you turn back, the old man is gone, the candle extinguished. All that's left is the sand. You take a handful with you as you move towards the door. You can see light from underneath it now, the last light in the universe.
The Captain pauses for a moment, taking in the emptiness of the once-bustling diner, pondering the lives of all those who must have passed through this place. It's hard to imagine it was ever full to begin with. But it was once, and that's what matters.
You step through the door to behold the warp core. The echoes of your Head Engineer flash before your eyes, the past meeting the present. He moves through the space for what seems like moments but for him must be years, and he builds. He creates the cause of it all, the destroyer of worlds, and a baby always remembers its father. It takes form, and as it sparks to life, his form multiplies, dozens of him all toiling away to build what he thinks will save the universe. When the work is done, they all stare at you for a moment. Then you turn to see Mark swinging a fire extinguisher at your head.
The world blurs, and you
fall
and everything goes dark.
You push yourself up, your vision still blurred at the edges. You reach out, and Mark grabs your wrist tightly. "Sorry about that," he says, as though amiability will get him anywhere. "Couldn't afford to let you make another mistake." He tears the crystal out of your hand with a set of pliers, and you reach for the blue. He grabs your wrist again and shakes his head. "Don't." The look in his eyes is cold, without the faith you once thought an integral part of his personality. "You don't have to keep trying anymore. There's no time, anyway." He laughs, and for a moment, you can almost see the ghost of his past interlaced with his present. "Another thing I never thought I'd say again." Time is not a line, not a web, not a direction or a dimension or a place or a thing. It's nothing. Nothing at all. And it's everything.
"I'm going to fix the damage you caused." Always blaming you. You can almost remember the scoutmaster, his cheerful smile even as fury burned in his gaze. You left him here. If you had cared for him more, could you have stopped him? That's the trick of it though. If he hadn't gone after you, you would have trusted him more. If you had trusted him more, you would have helped him. If you had helped him, he wouldn't have gone back. And round and round it goes. "I had a long time to spend rebuilding this machine you broke. A long time over too many lives." The agency lady said that it would have taken thousands of years to get wormhole technology. How long was he here?
"But I know now that this thing does more than just make wormholes." He puts the heart of the core back in its place, and he reveals knowledge that you have known intrinsically as though it should be heralded as the second coming. To him, the knowledge is new and precious and marvellous, but to you, it's old and dull and ordinary. He knows more than anyone has ever known about the subject, and to you, it is like watching a baby take its first steps. You know what he will become. Who he will become. You knew that he would know.
"Distance and time are the same thing from different perspectives. That's all these universes are, just different points of view. And this machine didn't just bridge a tunnel between our universe, it was bridging all of them. And you destroyed it." He destroyed it. He destroyed the one thing holding the multiverse together as it fell apart at the seams. He destroyed it to stop you from destroying it. He destroyed everything. He is destroying everything. It's not his fault. It's not anybody's fault, really. You are all just following the tracks laid out for you. He is revealing a plan you have known about since you met his future, since you faced the lady, since you first stepped aboard the Invincible II. He is revealing his path to the future you have already known. He is revealing nothing new.
"I can't undo what you've done. Not here, anyway. Or at least, not now." He pulls the lever, and the destroyer of worlds wakes up.
WARP CORE ENGAGED
"If I could go back, if I could try again, if I could stop you before any of this even started, maybe I could save everyone." Maybe he could doom everyone. Maybe he could destroy everything. Maybe he could give up hope. Maybe all the "maybes" will come true. The faith in his eyes so mirrors the faith that used to shine for you, but this time, it shines for salvation. He believes he can fix your mistakes. He believes that he can fix every mistake. He believes that he can stop what is coming as though he is any more powerful than the blue.
WARNING: PARADOX DETECTED
This is the first time he will hear that message. It will not be the last. Somehow, he will not think to question how the warnings only became more frequent as he continued on. This is his origin story, the foundation of his future. The foundation of that tired old man. This is your last chance. As he stares at the core in confusion, you throw sand in his face. You threw sand at him because he tried to throw sand at you. He tried to throw sand at you because you threw sand at him. Paradox.
TEMPORAL LOCK UNSTABLE
As he flails, you stand by the terminal, but the symbols on the keys mean nothing to you. Instead, you move towards the core. If you tear out its heart, its crystal, you can make it stop. You can make it all stop. He grabs you before you can reach it, screaming at you.
TARGET ARRIVAL DATE NOT GUARANTEED
The core expands into a familiar blue, drawing you in. You resist, grabbing Mark's hand to keep him here. He begs you to hold on, fearing what lies beyond the brink. Then he realises. "Let me go," he says, the faith in his eyes brighter than the blue as he knows with a certainty unjustified that he can fix everything. You have seen his future, conversed with it at a diner long since abandoned. You know what awaits him if you let go. "Captain, please. I can fix this." He tried, he tried so hard, but in the end he was just tired, the faith in his eyes worn down to nothing.
"Look, I don't know what you did, and maybe you didn't mean to, but I have to stop you. I have to!" This is where he gets the idea for the fake hand. Of course. You can see his future intertwined with his present, and it hurts. You know his future. You know what must happen to him. You know what will be. You know what will happen if you let go. You don't know what will happen if you don't. Maybe the paradox of meeting his future and preventing it will still end everything. Maybe the loop is the only way to exist for just a few moments more. Maybe you can remember if you let go and claw your way to a better ending. Maybe letting go will only continue this. Maybe letting go will destroy everything all over again. Maybe you will not remember. You don't know. You don't know much of anything.
"Please! This is it! This is the end of everything. Everyone that ever existed is gonna get wiped out unless you let me go!" The heart of the core is there for the taking. "Captain, please!" He's desperate, on the verge of tears, and this is his last hope. This is his chance for salvation. "I have to keep trying. I have to." He has yet to learn the lessons that await him in his future, has yet to bear the exhaustion that will weigh him down, has yet to feel at peace with the end. And if you choose correctly, he never will. Or maybe there are no correct choices. Maybe every possibility goes back to where you came from. Maybe there is no way out. You have to choose. It's all up to you. Let him go to become the future you already know, or hold on to face the end together.
"Please, let me go," he begs. "I know I can fix everything. I know there's a perfect solution! I just have to find it. Please!" You glance towards the core. You could tear out its heart right now, stop the loop, stop everything, but wouldn't that be a paradox? Wouldn't that destroy everything?
WARNING: PARADOX DETECTED
TEMPORAL LOCK UNSTABLE
"This is my last chance, our last chance to save everyone. Everything! Please." If you let him go, you sentence him to Hell. You ensure his fate. You ruin him. But if you remember this, if you remember all that you have learned, could you make new choices? Could you stop it? Could you fix this if you had one more try?
TARGET ARRIVAL DATE NOT GUARANTEED
You let go. He soars upwards, into the blue, and the wormhole snaps shut behind him in a flash of light. You fall forward. Did it work? Will you loop again? Will you get yet another of your infinite second chances? Was this the right thing to do?
WARNING: PARADOX CRITICALITY THRESHOLD EXCEEDED
UNIVERSAL COLLAPSE IMMINENT
INITIATING TIME JUMP
The warp core disappears, leaving nothing but dust in its wake. Where did it go? Where could it go such that it wouldn't disrupt the timeline? Where... Oh. Mark found the core. He didn't build it the first time. He just stumbled across it. How... lucky he was to find such a mysterious piece of futuristic technology. Or maybe it wasn't luck. Maybe it was the only place the core could go to perpetuate its own paradoxical existence. You move over to the terminal, but the characters are still nonsense, and the screen is black. You start towards the door, then stop. There is nothing left. Nothing left at all.
You sit down, staring at your hands. "Long day, Captain?" It's Mrs. Whitacre, holding two cups. You take the one she offers you and sip it slowly. It's good. Warm. Soothing. "Strange how some days can feel so much longer than others." Has it only been one day? It feels like months, maybe years since the loop started. But it's only ever been the one day. She sits down next to you and smiles. "I bet you're wondering if you made the right choice. Well, it's like my–" She stops, grins, starts again. "...like an old friend used to say, 'Life is ours to choose.' And you have made some beautiful choices, Captain." You don't think some of your choices were very beautiful. You killed your crew. You hurt Mark. You destroyed the universe. "Because if the universe were made up of only right and wrong choices, then that's not really a choice at all. And that's not really living, is it, Captain?" You suppose not. None of your choices were inherently correct or incorrect. They had different merits. Some of them, you regret. Others, you don't. You chose. You lived.
You tap your glass against hers and drink deep of the waters of Lethe. "'Til next time," she says, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Next time might be a lot sooner than you think." You can only hope that you'll remember this, that you'll remember enough to make better choices. You don't think you will.
The world ends in a flash of blue.
And the world begins in a flash of blue.
"Please, let me go," he begs. "I know I can fix everything. I know there's a perfect solution. I just have to find it!" If you let him go, you continue the path you already know and despise. If you let him go, you send him to suffer. "Please! Captain!" You turn towards the core, ignoring his cries. This is the only way out. The crystal falls out so easily, fitting in the palm of your hand as though it was meant to be there. You toss it into the wormhole as Mark screams. The wormhole snaps shut in a flash of light, and the two of you fall to the floor.
ALERT: PARADOX RESOLVED
You pull yourself to your feet and stumble to the core, brushing your fingers against it as the light goes out. Despite all the pain it caused you, all the grief and strife, you almost miss the blue. The only thing it could do was die. There is a certain sort of pity in that.
"What have you done?" he says, voice choked with an entirely different sort of grief, a grief that spans worlds and lifetimes and universes. "You destroyed us. You destroyed everything." And maybe you did, but that's better than dying over and over and over and over again. That's better than living the loop. "This was our last chance to fix things and it's gone." For him, it was the last chance. For you, it was first, last, and always. "I spent an eternity in hell rebuilding this stupid machine, and you threw it all away!" Pain across his face, old grief and new, the death of faith, the death of hope, the death of every second chance. He has lost everything because of you. His faith in you, his faith in himself, his faith in salvation, all gone. Your fault. You do not regret it. There was no other way.
You can see the tears he's choking back as he approaches, all the anger spilling from his soul. "I don't know if you're evil or just stupid, but if I'm not back there to fix it–" The anger dies a sudden death as he realizes what you were told from the horse's mouth. "If I'm not back there... If I'm not back, then the warp core's not back." He steps towards the terminal that you still don't understand and stares at the glyphs on the keys. "I thought I rebuilt it because you destroyed it. Unless... I built the warp core? I sent it back?" The bitter laughter on his face quickly dissolves into agony. "I built it," he says, and he grieves. "I built it." He looks to you for salvation, for forgiveness, for any way to lessen the guilt that he has for so long foisted upon your shoulders. "It was my fault," he says, and he weeps.
He collapses to the floor, and you sit with him, a hand on his shoulder as he shakes. "Captain, I'm tired," he says, dark smudges under his eyes. "I don't know when the last time I slept was. I don't know if I've slept at all." He looks at you with eyes that hold a burden not meant for one soul to carry. "Have you?" You haven't. You've just been going and going and going without a chance to stop. You can almost understand what Old Mark was saying about peace. "I'm really sorry, Captain. I thought the only way to stop this was to stop you, stop all of this from happening in the first place. But it was me." He tries to smile, but guilt and grief and sorrow wash it away. "It was me. All those mistakes, all those lifetimes, all the people." The weight of loss is crushing, but you have him. You held on. You will not let him go. "I guess I lost hope." Trickles of sand fall from the ceiling, the universe destabilising as the paradox that kept it going round and round and round finally stops. "But you didn't." The lights are going out, but you have him. "You never did."
At the end of the universe, there is you, and there is Mark.
The world ends in a flash of blue.
You wake up slowly in your cryo pod. For a moment, you look towards the emergency release, but the ship is nominal. You exit the pod to see the crew, your crew, going about their business. Everything is fine. No sabotage, no catastrophe, no fire on the bridge. Everything is... fine. Mark greets you with a cup of coffee, which you take gratefully. It's been a long day. Gunther gives you some finger-guns, Celci gives you a status report (always the reliable one), and Burt gives you some motivational words. You love your crew.
Mark opens up the blast shields, and you lay eyes on your new planet for the first time. It's beautiful, so, so blue. The computer gives some numbers, but you ignore it. You've done it. You've ferried your passengers to a new world. You've kept your crew safe. You are the Captain of the Invincible, and you've reached your ending. It's not perfect, but it's yours.
Mark stands with you at the window, admiring it. "And... thank you. For not giving up on me." You look at him, and he gives you a small smile. "Just... thank you." He nods, and you turn back to the planet and drink your coffee. At the beginning of the universe, there is you, and there is Mark. All that's left now is the infinite future.
A crystal in the dirt, the last remnant of the aberrant timeline. It pulses weakly, and someone approaches. A hand reaches down, and the light goes out.
So much trouble, all for something so small.