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Birthdays, and their place in the neverending loop of our lives

Summary:

It's Stanley's birthday, kinda. The Narrator has something planned to celebrate the occasion.

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It was a day like any other.

More accurately, it was the same exact day, starting the same exact way as any other.

Stanley huffed, dragging his hands down his face. He'd fallen into sort of a rut, he admits.

At first, he'd been rebellious. Desperate to prove autonomy in this space where choices were everything. But, after so long, he fell into place. Done the story just the way the Narrator wanted to. As he sat at his desk, now, he has to reach pretty far back in his memory to even recall the last time he'd done something different.

He stood, opening his office door with a gentle click, and proceeding down the hallway. Business as usual.

"All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean?" The Narrator's familiar voice chimed in. Although, Stanley noted, there was a twinge of something new. His tone was just a little off. He's sure he wouldn't have picked that up a long time ago, but he'd developed an ear for just the slightest shifts in his omniscient company. Stanley disregards this, and proceeds anyways.

"Stanley?"

Stanley stopped dead in his tracks. Here he stood, in front of these two doors, and that was a new line. Something new? He looked up curiously, waiting for the Narration to proceed.

"Stanley, do you realize what day it is?"

Stanley scoffed.

[Yes, of course.]

The words yesterday and tomorrow had long since lost any meaning to him. He knows what day it is.

"No, I meant…" Stanley noted a tint of aggravation in his voice. "Look, it's a special day. Technically."

Stanley raised his eyebrow quizzically.

"Just… come to the employee lounge. Please?"

Stanley considered his options. If the Narrator was honestly asking something from him sincerely, it may be important. Or maybe the Narrator is just getting Stanley's hopes up, so that the inevitable disappointment stings that much more.

Though, Stanley ventured, even if that is the case- it would be new. It has been so long since there was something new.

With a sigh of resignation, Stanley chose the right door, heading toward the Employee lounge.

"Oh!" The narrator chirped, seemingly equal amounts pleased and surprised. Then, Stanley heard the sounds of ruffling fabric, and a.. click?

[Hello?] Stanley thought, baffled by the odd sound. But… no response.

Stanley trudged on.

When Stanley turned the corner, he had been ready for a great many things. Or, at least, sufficiently prepared to deal with those aforementioned things. He was not ready to deal with balloons and big flashy banners.

A gaudy "yay!" sound effect played, followed by upbeat music.

Stanley looked around, trying to decipher just what was happening right now. He tilted his head to the side, thinking maybe this might make more sense at an angle. But no such luck.

"Happy birthday, Stanley."

…What?

Birthday? It was?

"Well, perhaps I should clarify. I don't really know what day your birthday is. And even if I did, it wouldn't matter, considering it would never come."

Stanley tapped his foot impatiently.

"But, I've been counting up your total hours here. In the parable. And you've just reached one total calendar year! 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes!" There was an unmistakable tinge of pride in his voice.

[Oh.] Stanley thought. That made enough sense on the surface, I suppose. But, then again, it made absolutely no sense at all. He'd been here for an entire year already? And yet, only a year? Just one? He'd been here centuries, a millenia. To have a number put to this eternally unending loop… One. One year. It's almost impossible to believe. The room seemed like it was spinning.

"Oh?" The Narrator parroted, all semblance of pride instantly gone. "Stanley, I set up a whole party and all you have to say is 'Oh?' What, would you rather your effort go unacknowledged? Goodness, Stanley, after all this time I still don't understand you."

[Party? There's a party?]

"...Well, yes." He spoke with an unmaskable fondness. "It's not a traditional sort of party, with guests and whatnot. Obviously. And I don't really have much frame of reference for what a birthday party ought to be."

[Stop making excuses.] Stanley cut off, looking sternly toward the ceiling.

"Excuses? I'm not- I'm just trying to explain myself, Stanley."

Stanley rolled his eyes lightheartedly.

"Fine, fine. Well, here." The narrator spoke, before a cake suddenly appeared on a table in the center of the employee lounge. "It's chocolate. I didn't really know what you wanted, and that seemed kind of like the default answer."

Stanley ran up to it eagerly, immediately cutting into it with reckless abandon. The parable eliminated all need to eat, drink, or sleep- but that didn't mean he didn't miss it. He shoved his slice into his face, making quick work of it. It was perfect in every sense of the word, he's positive. It was light and fluffy, and the frosting wasn't too sweet. He cuts himself a new slice as soon as he finished the first one. The narrator chuckled, seemingly in a good mood.

"Well, don't let me stop you, but maybe you should pace yourself?" He suggested.

Stanley shook his head vigorously and shoved 3 more forkfuls into his mouth.

The Narrator sighed. "Well, when you're done with that, I actually have a few gifts."

[Gifts?] Stanley started eating even faster, eager to receive not just a cake, but actual gifts! The Narrator makes a distressed sound, urging Stanley not to choke, but he doesn't hear him. All he can understand now is extreme cake consumption.

When he finally exits his cake frenzie, he looks up towards the ceiling. The narrator takes a very audible shaky breath.

"You're a menace, Stanley."

Stanley grins smugly.

"Well, I am a man of my word. For your first gift, I bring nothing physical, but exciting news!"

[News?] Stanley tapped his chin in thought. Well, he's not unappreciative, it's just a bit unconventional. But I guess, for the Narrator, unconventional is completely average. [Shoot.]

"Drumroll please!"

[dedededede.]

"Stanley, please. A little enthusiasm."

[dedededededededede!]

"I wrote new endings!" The narrator's smile was audible. "There's so much more to experience now, Stanley! Isn't that just wonderful? I'm simply jazzed!"

Stanley immediately ran to the door, eager to immediately experience these aforementioned experiences.

"Woah, woah!" The door shut without warning in Stanley's face. He glared daggers at the ceiling. "Just hold on, Stanley. I have one more gift. But… oh, this doesn't feel like the right place."

[Right place?]

"Yes, it's too lackluster. The employee lounge simply isn't worthy."

[This must be real special. Maybe we should take this to the broom closet!]

"Don't make jokes, Stanley. But… Hold on. I'm going to change things around. Give me a second."

Stanley blinked, and was faced with the familiar black void indicative of a reset. He blinked another time, and suddenly his vision was bathed
in familiar warm lights. Rainbows dance around, filling the space with beauty. The Zending. Stanley didn't think the Narrator would want to come here ever again, which was okay with him, because Stanley didn't want to either. But as he stands here, drinking in the glow of the room, he remembers why he had loved it, at first. It was beautiful.

[Narrator?]

"I'm here, Stanley." He responded, but unlike all the times before, his voice didn't reverberate through Stanley's skull, like it was coming through his own thoughts- filling Stanley's consciousness. No, he sounded almost like he was in the room with him.

[Why did you take us here?]

"It seemed appropriate." He sounded closer. "I'd never once wished for physicality, before this room." He hesitated, almost as if searching hopelessly for the appropriate words. "If I were more than a voice, I could have caught you. We could have stood around together. Maybe that was the problem. I was silent, you had no idea if I was there at all. If I could have sat with you… you'd know."

Stanley's heart stung. If that distraught voice had a face to go along with it… If that strained cry came from teary eyes? He couldn't have done it. He would have stayed there forever.

[Why bring this up?]

A pleased hum came from behind Stanley.

"Turn around."

Stanley turned, slowly, as if dreading what he would see.

The lights of the room illuminated a figure from every angle. There, in the center of the room, was a man. Dressed classily, hair styled nicely. Every inch of him was drowning in the rainbow of the room, reflecting in his glasses most of all.

"Hello, Stanley."

Stanley immediately closed the distance between them, wrapping the man in the tight hug. He clutched desperately to the fabric, like he might disappear if he let go. Like he'd leave again. Stanley's nails surely left imprints in the Narrator's back.

He fought it, not wanting to show weakness, even in a safe moment, but he failed. He couldn't keep in the tears, tears that were rolling down his face, coming out in ugly choked sobs. He buried his face deeper, staining the Narrator's suit.

"It's okay, darling. It's okay." The Narrator rubbed circles on his back, in an attempted soothing motion. His rich voice continued to soothe him, baritone pouring warmly from his chest. The casual nickname only intensified Stanley's sobs, and his body was wracked with shivers.

They stood like that for what felt like hours, before finally slowing. The only sign of Stanley's breakdown was hiccups and tear stained cheeks, but he had yet to let go. The Narrator hadn't made any move to release the other either. They rocked back and forth in comfortable silence.

[You look how I'd imagined you would.] Stanley voiced, quietly, as if thinking any louder would shatter the moment.

"I'm glad to hear it. It took a long time to make this model. I have several scrapped versions where something was just a little off. Some of the earliest ones just look… uncanny. It's so hard to make a body for yourself. Nobody ever mentioned that."

[I think you're the first person to try.]

The Narrator sighed, the deep breath tickling Stanley's neck. "Yes, I suppose that's correct."

[You did a good job.]

"Did I?"

[Yeah. You look nice.]

Stanley nuzzled his head further into The Narrator's shoulder, somewhere in the crook of his neck. The lights in the room got a little rosier.

"Yes, well…" He cleared his throat. "Happy birthday, Stanley."

 

And Stanley was happy.