Chapter Text
Stanley always found the phrase "jolt up in bed" unrealistic. Yet, as he felt his body hit the hard, cold concrete for the last time, he was sitting up on his apartment couch as if he was never laying down. He recognized the place as he looked around the room, not as a comfortable space but a distant memory of nostalgia, as if he were in his childhood home, living through his life once again. He saw the strange statue of a woman's upper body he won in a cheap holiday auction – or rather, a coworker felt bad and won it for him – staring back at him, and he experienced the biggest case of whiplash he's ever felt.
No, no, this wasn't right. That was supposed to be a mannequin. Then, he realised he might be sorely psychotic. Reliving the parable in his head, he had trouble remembering the details. Three main topics came to mind; the closet, the bucket, The Narrator. Those were somewhat impactful for him. Sitting there, he was partially astonished he wasn't in a morgue or six feet under for how long he was stuck in that liminal horror. Stanley checked his digital calendar. Somehow, not a year had gone by.
Stanley concluded he was dreaming the whole thing up. Yet it just didn't make sense! He already assumed that conclusion when he went insane one run. He should've woken up seconds later. Everytime he hurt himself or died, he should've woken up. Now, Stanley wasn't a man that was invested in science too much. Sure, he believed in climate change and the creation of the universe but he'd have to disagree in the studies of different existing planes. If it wasn't a dream, then Stanley had been trapped in a plane of existence beyond his understanding. And now, that plane was lost. The Narrator was lost.
It sent Stanley spiralling into a blind sadness, falling to the ground with such force it'd be a wonder if his downstairs neighbours weren't concerned in the slightest. He pulled his arms to his head, hands cupping his ears and pulling his hair. Then, he noticed the tight fabric pressing against his elbows and shoulders.
Stanley was…in his usual work clothes. He glanced at the clock on his wall that read "8:00 AM". He started his job in an hour. Obviously, he was in no shape to be back in that building but he needed to work. It was basically work or die in Stanley's case. He began to collect himself, steadying his breathing and wiping the little pool of tears in his eyes. He buttoned the rest of his shirt.
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Stanley sat limp in his office chair, staring at the single command on his screen, flashing ominously. He hadn't felt the need to move at all while he was in his office. Every once in a while, the employees outside his door would go quiet, enough to convince Stanley for even a split second that he had somehow reentered the parable, that he had shifted consciousness. Then, the conversations would start back up and Stanley would sigh deeply, taking a swig of the cheap coffee in his mug that lacked any character. His boss had banned anything but plain, boring cups after they got too vulgar. Yes, that was another thing Stanley liked about the parable. There, he could do whatever the hell he wanted, as long as it didn’t break the game. Stanley could list off every profanity he could remember, then recall the absolute vilest, bawdy situation he could think of and it’d be received with a simple scoff or sigh of disappointment, maybe even a gasp of pure disgust, depending on how revolting Stanley was willing to get.
He sighed again. Every little thing managed to connect itself back to the parable in some way or another. Then, a light rap on his office door. He forced himself out of his chair and stumbled to the doorknob, opening up to the interruption.
“Hey, Stanley, I just…oh my, are you alright?” It was one of Stanley’s coworkers.
Stanley swallowed and nodded quickly. “Well, if you say so… I, uh…I was told to bring the new kid to you.”
Stanley glanced over and, sure enough, a young girl who seemed to be fresh out of college fiddled nervously with her hands. He recalled hearing about this; it was a wonder how he hadn’t managed to forget after what seemed like centuries. He shrugged and nodded again. His associate, who he could never remember their name, smiled and pranced off.
The kid spoke. “Um, hello! I’m-” Stanley wouldn’t retain her name either. “-and I was just hoping for a quick tour around the building?” If having to face his functioning computer again wasn’t going to take him out, wandering the now jampacked building The Narrator had taken a carbon copy of was.
No response, Stanley trudged past the younger. She trotted behind. Walking through silently active halls, she began to ask questions Stanley couldn’t be any less bothered to answer.
“Your name is Stanley, right?” A nod. “Right, that other guy called you that. And, like, what, you don’t talk?”
Stanley squinted and shaked his hand to convey a “kind of”. She continued. “If you don’t mind me asking, isn’t it difficult to communicate?”
Now, he wasn’t sure how to answer that. All this time, Stanley almost lost his talent of talking in silence, simply giving in to a one way telepathy. He was now stuck socialising with regular people. He attempted to recall his life before the parable. Stanley concluded he didn’t have anything to compare it to. He had been like this since childhood. He could usually find his words through universal hand gestures and body language, yet he wouldn’t shy away from the word or two he’d actually mumble to get his point across. In response, he shrugged.
Entering a room, Stanley nearly jumped back in horror and curled into a ball, yet simply flinched. In that room were two doors.
Regaining his composure, he decided it would be best to wander to the warehouse. I mean, what was the kid gonna do? Would she suddenly express strong opinions in favour of going through the left? Then, Stanley had a terrible thought that this could all be a ruse. If it was, it was diabolically horrible. His little rekindle of hope died and shrivelled as she wordlessly followed him through. Of course. He forgot that his regular life was so fucking boring. This is what Stanley reminisced about in the parable? Walking towards the aforementioned warehouse, Stanley muttered the names of things as he passed, waving to the occupied employee lounge and his associate in the cargo lift control room.
Stanley led her to the railing overlooking the warehouse floor. To be honest, he partly forgot what he was supposed to be doing. He leaned against the metal bars, crossed arms. His eyes flicked around the space, recalling every destination. On the other side of the cargo lift was a room with a phone that could either take Stanley to an apartment or could force him into astral projection. Following the platform, Stanley would reach another two doors that would lead him to two very different places. Those were fictional, obviously.
Stanley then dropped his head to the ground. On the floor were forklifts in action, workers carrying the smaller loads, and Stanley’s cold, dead, squashed body. At least, he envisioned it there, being stepped on and run over by the industrial vehicles. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy to ignore if he was truly down there. Stanley considered, then decided 5,000$ was a price he could never pay off.
The girl spoke. “Right, so this is the warehouse.” Stanley nodded.
He turned back, sauntering through the halls filled with the humming of old lights. He pulled open the door to the maintenance room. When asked if they were allowed to go this way, Stanley shrugged. It was his shortcut and he was going to use it. Reaching the staircase, Stanley considered turning back to show off the broom closet, but figured he would make a fool of himself, causing even more people to question why the hell he was head of a department. He avoided going insane again by walking up the flight of concrete stairs.
Upstairs, Stanley and the tagalong passed Johnathan – the boss’ secretary – as he greeted the two. Stanley simply waved back while the younger put in the effort to form a positive first impression. The grand doors stood in front of Stanley as he reached a fist-
“Oh, Stanley? The boss is busy right now. Please don’t disturb him.”
Stanley lowered his balled up hand, and turned to the girl with an almost sorry look in his eyes. “It’s alright. I’ll probably see inside sooner than later. All I have to do is get myself into some shit, right?” She elbowed Stanley as he stifled a fake chuckle.
But Stanley knew what was inside. Stanley knew every inside to his job. And Stanley wouldn’t let it get him again.