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It was just another run in The Stanley Parable. Employee number 427 didn’t remember what happened previously, nor did he really care. “Life” in the parable was simply a monotonous cycle.
But there was one thing that brought variety. That brought change.
“All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room-”
Ugh. While Stanley did enjoy the Narrator’s company, he found the off script comments much more interesting. He held his hands up towards the ceiling, motioning for the Narrator to stop.
“...simply missed a memo. Hmm? Stop? What for, Stanley?” He paused. “You aren’t getting bored, are you?” Stanley tilted his head. He thought he heard a hint of fear in the other’s voice.
“Fear!” it scoffed. “I am an omnipresent being, I don’t feel something as trivial as fear.”
Oh, really? Stanley knew for a fact that the Narrator was just as capable of fear as he was. Would he like some specific examples?
There was a short cough. “Anyways, Stanley, what could you possibly want me to stop the story for?”
A break. He wanted a break from the storyline. He heard the Narrator start to say something, probably an indignant complaint. Stanley continued in his thoughts before the man could interrupt.
He wasn’t bored of the story. He just believed…
Stanley paused, choosing his next words carefully.
It would be better if the story was experienced in small bits, instead of all at once.
The Narrator hummed, but didn’t sound entirely convinced.
That way, it won’t be overwhelming, and hearing it part by part might- will make the message sink in better.
If Stanley was being honest with what he projected to the Narrator, that part was a complete lie. The supposed message had flown over his head hundreds of runs ago.
He just wanted something different. Was it a selfish motive? Maybe. But in the parable… did selfishness even exist?
“Yes… perhaps you have a point.”
Stanley snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at the ceiling.
“Well, Stanley, I suppose you may have your little break. While you run around doing… whatever, I will be taking a break of my own. Just call me when-”
Stanley frowned, shooting a pointed stare upwards.
“Er, you know what I mean. Just think loud enough, and I’ll hear you.”
Think loud enough? How does someone think loudly? But Stanley didn’t get an answer. The Narrator was gone for now.
He shrugged. Now was the time to enjoy his newfound freedom for as long as he could.
Stanley began wandering through the office, relishing the time alone. No British accent dictating his every move or commenting on every thought.
He picked up a pen, sudden realization dawning on him. He could vandalize this place without any consequences! At least without any immediate ones.
In a few quick strokes, Stanley doodled a self portrait of himself on the wall. It was a little messy and unrecognizable, but it was the thought that mattered. He continued forward, leaving inky markings as he went. Sure, they would be gone with the next reset, but the feeling of control that came from the action was impossible to resist.
He then paused in front of the set of two open doors. Snaking out of the right door was a thin, yellow rectangle. The Adventure Line™? No, it seemed to be a shade darker.
Stanley approached it curiously, but his foot caught on the carpet. He stumbled forward, accidentally stepping onto the line as he went.
A loud, high pitched shriek sounded, causing Stanley to press himself against the wall. There was a whip-like crack as the line rapidly retreated, shrinking into a short, slightly bent arrow.
Stanley felt a twinge of guilt upon seeing the dirty marks his feet had left. His guilt was quickly overrun by confusion, however. Did… did that scream come from the arrow? Was it sentient??
He bent down, gingerly picking it up in his hands. It felt very cold, like he was dipping his hands into a bucket of paint. The arrow curled into a tight coil in Stanley’s hands. Ok, that was kind of cute. For a line. He continued down the hall, deciding to go to the employee lounge.
This run was certainly different.
As soon as Stanley sat down on a couch, the tip of the arrow lifted. It turned around, almost dazed, before pointing at Stanley. He looked down at it, giving a reassuring smile.
He still felt guilty for stepping on the arrow, but wasn’t entirely sure how to apologize. The yellow coil in his hands froze, then leaped into the air.
It lengthened and grew as it traveled, before landing in a tangled heap on the couch. The triangular tip lifted, pointing, almost accusingly, at Stanley.
“You- Stanley-” The Narrator’s voice seemed torn between anger and embarrassment. Stanley blinked dumbly, struggling to process that this arrow was his- the Narrator.
This was… his physical form? The arrow huffed. “Oh no, this is an evil spirit mimicking my voice- of course this is my physical form, Stanley!! But that is not the point! Is your spacial awareness so lacking-”
Stanley had stopped listening, fascinated by his companion’s new appearance. Its movements reminded him of an angry snake, whipping back and forth as it ranted. He reached two fingers out and placed them on the tip (head? face?? Stanley had no clue) of the arrow.
It froze, but didn’t move away from his touch. “Stanley. What are you doing.”
Oh, calm down. He was just trying something new. With his two fingers, Stanley lightly rubbed the Narrator’s head.
A tremor shook the length of the arrow, barely visible. Stanley hesitated, pulling his hand away. Did he… like that?
For once, it did not respond. Slowly untangling itself, the arrow slid over to Stanley. It looped around the other’s waist, coming to rest its head on Stanley’s shoulder. It was an interesting position, but surprisingly comfortable. Stanley smiled, gently petting the golden arrow. A soft, quiet rumbling emitted from it, similar to a purr.
Sitting in the employee lounge, Stanley found this was much better than pushing buttons, both literally and metaphorically.