Chapter Text
The keyboard on the phone's screen pops up and it types. Parrot looks at it.
'Who are you?'
Parrot looks down on the phone screen.
SCP-7888, code name; phone from a different reality
He takes a breath as he types back a response on the notes app, the site director putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't stress it," Branzy tells him. "nothing will happen besides this other person getting upset at you." He adds.
'We are the SCP Foundation, an organization that studies anomalies to protect those who stand in the light.'
God, it sounds cheesy and shit.
'okay???? cryptic as hell but aight i'll take it
are you like some ai cuz thats rlly cool
you dont have a name do you?
uhhhh
idk
ezra sounds cool
ive been losing my fucking mind for SOOOOO LONG
whats thw time and weather in colorado?'
-
He doesn't remember much, but, yeah. He doesn't remember having an AI installed on his notes app that replies to him whenever he asks. (How long was it since he played SIM with his friends?)
Vortex doesn't know how long it's been since everyone on earth but him dissappeared. Well, he kinda does, considering he has two notebooks he stole from a shop since the day it happened. They always seemed to stay the same despite the days resetting.
Well, technically, it wasn't stealing because there was literally no one to stop him. And in the first few days he just thought it was some evacuation that no one told him about while he was sleeping.
Everything looks the same, and nothing is untouched. But still, it's like everything has just stayed the exact same.
The clouds don't move, the sun remains in it's place since he woke up, plants don't rot, and nothing grows. Even him. (He has not grown an inch, goddamit.)
The televisions don't show anything but static and a black screen and Vortex sighs everytime he thinks someone exists. There's magazines and the photos in his phone that keep him intact with reality, but still not enough.
He tried whiskey once. Spat it out almost immediately. Then, he tried making himself a drink some guy taught him to make when he was at a party. It still tastes like a memory of him being thrown into that pool after being pressured to take a shot by his classmates.
He's been talking to this small dragon plushie he's had since he was a kid. Everyone kind of made of fun of him but they're gone now. (Plus, it's probably the only thing he has other than his phone.)
Vortex looked around the city. Man, being alone really gets to you, huh?
Vortex walks into this empty Walmart.
And then he yells all his frustrations out.
-
"Where does this come from?" Parrot asks the other researcher assigned with this anomaly.
Jaron just shrugs, the researcher that found it.
"Apparently, based on this person's notes, an alternate reality where everything is the same except it's just the same everyday and other people don't exist." Jaron answers with. "The person's name is Vortex, since he signs off every note with it since we started contact."
"Have you ever put in voice memos?" Parrot asks again.
"He does, but we don't. Still pending from the O5." Jaron says. "He mostly just screams for a good amount of time and then proceed to detail his day before ending it all by jumping into the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge."
Parrot looks at him and before he asks again, Jaron cuts him off.
"Just so you know, the alternate reality Vortex is living in, works strangely. Everytime he dies, he just wakes up in his bedroom with everything still untouched and to him that seems like waking up from night."
"So, he can't get out of that universe?" Parrot asks the other researcher in the room. Jaron nods. "Shit, that sounds painful. Like, mentally."
The phone opens again, on the table. Jaron picks it up, the screen saying that it's charging but still being used.
Jaron doesn't touch the screen, rather just holding it up. The case is a navy blue with a few flashy stickers on it, weathering away from time.
Vortex opens the notes app and begins to type.
'any suggestions on how to die the bridge is getting boring and shit'
"How old is he again?" Parrot asks Jaron.
"Nineteen, exactly." Jaron answers.
'heyyyyyyyyy ik ur readjng this ai' Vortex types out.
Jaron begins to type again, ceasing control of the phone's keyboard.
'We suggest you do not kill yourself.'
'wow always boring!! have some life goddamn👎'
"Hand it over." Parrot says to Jaron, leaning against the table with one hand pressed against the surface, holding up his stature.
Jaron hands the anomaly to him, who is more than ready to record this interaction.
"Are we allowed to tell him that we're people?"
"Yeah, but he isn't convinced." Jaron says. "We tried but he thinks he just accidentally took drugs."
"What the hell is wrong with him." Jaron shrugs at Parrot.
Parrot types out a message that Jaron can't see.
'Would you want voice memos?'
'uhhhhh sure ig'
"Parrot," Jaron says. "don't do anything horrible."
"It's not like I'm going to tell him to go fuck off or anything."
-
There comes a voice memo, after it's done recording.
Vortex sits on the edge of the bridge, swinging his legs hanging over the Hudson River as he presses to listen to it.
"We are researchers from the SCP Foundation," the voice pauses. "an organization that handles and deals with anomalies such as you to protect the minds of everyone who stand in the light."
Another pause and Vortex takes off his sunglasses. The city is so silent, it's almost unbearable to the point he'll yell or scream profanities until his mind doesn't go on the brink of insanity.
"I am a researcher assigned with you, along with my co-worker, Jaron. You might be confused as to why you are classified as an anomaly, but that is because a copy of your phone that works in real-time has also popped up in our reality and it serves as a gateway of information between you and us."
It ends.
"Okay, well, first of all, is this like some area-51 type shit? Secondly, sorry for mistaking you guys as an AI. Third of all, are you guys gonna like... I don't know, help me out of here and pull an X-Men and flash all my memories away?" Vortex asks.
Not long after, they respond.
'Perhaps. If the council wills it.'
"What the fuck," Vortex says. "council?" He whispers.
He stands up from his spot, looking over the river where waves rock back and forth.
Another day ends, with him putting his phone on the ground and falling into the river.