Chapter Text
[This is the story of a man named Narrator]
[In an office building behind the door of room 731, sat employee 731. Employee 731 opened his eyes to see a screen before them. The screen read “Good Morning Narrator :]”
before prompting him to type out different sentences. “Well that doesn’t sound right,” he nearly startled himself with his own voice but continued editing the sentence before him. This continued for a few minutes, a prompt would appear, and he would deem that it wasn’t good enough and change it before another prompt appeared.
That was until they stopped appearing.
“How strange, perhaps I should ask one of my coworkers if their computer has stopped sending them orders as well.” And so the Narrator stood from his chair and opened his office door.]
As the Narrator stood from his seat he never peeled his eyes away from the black text box next to his computer. As words appeared across it, it beeped excitedly. He would’ve been petrified if not for the fact that the text box had given him an instruction. “Alright ‘box’ I trust that you will guide me into fixing this mistake. Perhaps this will be a fun mystery.” He placed his hand on the door handle and pushed it open. He was surprised to see a bunch of empty desks. In the next instant, the text box was in front of him and the Narrator waited patiently for it to tell him what was happening.
[All of their coworkers were gone. “What could this mean?” The Narrator thought. They decided to go to the meeting room; perhaps they had simply missed a memo.]
The Narrator watched the text box vanish and found it quite strange that it seemed to be reading his thoughts. He walked into the next room searching for his companion, when he saw that there was nothing in that room he continued on to a room with two doors.
[When the Narrator came to a set of 2 open doors, he entered the door on his left.]
“I suppose I shall go through the door on the left. That’s the way to the meeting room after all.” But how did they know that was where the meeting room was? Was it because the text had sent him that way or was it because it felt coded into his psyche? Coded was the wrong word for it. They shook off the unease and made their way through the door on the left. They walked down a hall that led into a blue conference room. The textbox once again opened itself in front of him.
[Yet there was not a single person here either.]
[Feeling a wave of disbelief, the Narrator decided to go up to their boss's office, hoping they might find an answer there.]
“You’re quite a helpful little thing aren’t you?” the Narrator whispered to the textbox as it disappeared. “Right now, off to the boss's office, I go. The big man himself should be able to tell me what’s gone wrong!” They went out into a hall and passed a door labeled ‘BROOM CLOSET’.
[Coming to a staircase, the Narrator walked upstairs to their boss's office.]
The Narrator considered what might be at the bottom of the stairs before remembering that they had a mission. So up the stairs, they went. “Ah, there’s the secretaries desk, which means that the boss's office should be those two doors there.” The text box blocked his view of the entrance.
[The Narrator took great joy in talking to himself. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism, maybe he felt the need to fill the empty space left behind by his coworkers. Or maybe he just liked the sound of his own voice]
“I take back what I said earlier, you aren’t helpful at all. Although you have to admit I do have a majestic voice.” they mused as the textbox made beeping sounds that almost resembled a laugh.
[You do have a lovely voice, now what was I doing? Oh, right the story]
[As the Narrator entered their boss's office he was shocked to see that there was no one there either. They began pulling books from shelves, moving furniture, scouring every corner of the room until they could find something, anything that would give him a clue.]
The Narrator did just as the box told. He found a slip of paper with the number. 2845. “This is… oh it’s a code! There must be a keypad or a computer that I can put this code into.”
[Psst Narrator over there -->]
“Oh! Thank you box. Alright now what was the code again,” the Narrator hummed to himself before hearing a paper fall off the desk. “Oh? Did you do that, Box?” No response came. “Alright then. 2-8-4-5.”
[A wall opened up to reveal a passageway. What dark secrets would this passage hold, and did the Narrator have the strength to find out?]
“What the hell is down there that I must be worried about?” He took caution when he walked into the elevator. The Narrator felt a chill against the left side of his neck, when they moved their hand to check the chill seemed to attach itself to his hand. “How strange.”
[As the elevator descended the Narrator felt a bit peculiar. Like a stirring of emotion in their chest, and a need to question the nature of their workplace. But why now? Why had he never felt this feeling before? The answers would lie below.]
As the textbox beeped the Narrator could feel the chill spreading and wrapping around what he could only assume was his soul. “Box, the temperature in this lift is weird, I don’t like it.” As soon as the words left their mouth the chill vanished and the Narrator swore he could hear something apologizing to him. “Yep, this place gives me the willies.” He shivered at the thought that maybe he was less alone than he previously imagined. As the elevator stopped the Narrator cautiously stepped out of the elevator and took in his surroundings before continuing down the metal catwalk. They relished the sound of their loafers clicking against the metal.
[The Narrator walked straight ahead through the door labeled mind control facility.]
They looked to their left and noticed a sign with the word ESCAPE written on it. He considered why someone would write such a thing in the workplace but he continued forward nonetheless. It was what Box told them after all, and he trusted the Box, he wasn’t sure why he just knew that he did. He noticed a large button with a lightbulb on it. Ever a slave to curiosity the Narrator pressed the button.
[The lights rose on an enormous room packed with television screens. The Narrator felt a shiver run down his spine as he took a moment to realize the enormity of the room, everything about it felt important and larger than life itself.]
The Narrator swore they could feel a hand run down his back, a sharp cold followed its movements. When they turned around no one was there. He was still alone in the enormous room, all of his coworkers were still gone, and he was probably just going mad from the lack of human presence. That was all. The Narrator continued to the next platform to find a button with a camera on it, his heart dropped when he saw what the button did.
[As the monitors revealed their true nature the Narrator was rendered speechless. Each screen held the number of one of the office's many employees, the Narrator´s coworkers.]
[The li-]
Before the Box could “say” anything else the Narrator quickly cut it off.“This must be some kind of joke. My life and the lives of so many others are being reduced to nothing more than images on a screen, have we been monitored here for all of eternity? Do we mean anything here? Does freedom mean anything here?!” The Narrator was met with silence. Not a word from the box. He must’ve been correct to some extent but it wouldn’t explain the strange feeling of awe grazing the back of his skull. Was that feeling coming from themself or from something else entirely? As soon as the doors to the next catwalk opened the Narrator walked as fast as his body would allow him to the next button. “This is too horrible to believe it can’t be true, it can’t! I’m capable of making my own choices, my own decisions, my thoughts are my own! I swear they are.”
[The Narrator began to grow desperate as he waited for another catwalk or perhaps even another lift, any passage to further look into this miserable news would be appreciated.]
“I have dreams and desires just like any other human being! You must understand this Box! I. Am. Real.”
[Perhaps having someone else pulling the strings is what made the Narrator enjoy their boring, meaningless job. It was busy work at best and soul-crushing at worst. The perfect combination to numb their brilliant mind enough to get inside of it.]
The Narrator backed into the newly appeared lift. How could the box say such awful things? He wanted to be back at his desk happily typing away, fixing error after error and watching his fingers dance across the keys. He wanted to go back to when he didn’t know his boss had been mind-controlling him. Back to when he “enjoyed” his life.
[A thought crossed the Narrator’s mind. One so profoundly terrible to him that he dared not speak it for fear that maybe just maybe he wasn’t so alone. His boss could still be lurking around after all but at the very least right now he knew in the depths of his soul that only one being could read his thoughts so he allowed it to hear his revelation.]
[ What if, the Narrator thought while slowing his breath. What if I didn’t have a life before this? What if I have only ever existed for the purpose of typing poorly constructed sentences in a cramped little office where my only company is a few lines of text and cold that have followed me since I entered this blasted facility.]
“I don’t think I could accept the idea that I might not be in control of my own thoughts. Now I feel like I can think clearly but that aside I feel so trapped knowing there’s a possibility I might not even be real. Box, are you,” the Narrator sighed and the box waited patiently. It had not yet disappeared whether that was to comfort the Narrator or prepare itself for its next line they would never know. “Are you real? If… if you’re real then that means that someone can hear which would make me real too wouldn't it?” The lift made it to its stop, a room filled with buttons and monitors. All things the Narrator could care less for at the moment.
[But here was the proof. The heart of the operation. Controls labeled with emotions: 'happy' or 'sad' or 'content'.
Walking, eating, working... all of it monitored and commanded from this very place.]
At this point, the Narrator was sure he was going to be sick, that was if his brain didn’t melt from the comedown of his epiphany from earlier. He had barely been given time to process the thought that he might not be real. Now he was certain all he needed to worry about was being in control of his own cognitions. He made his way to the back of the room and into another where a catwalk led to two buttons.
One labeled ‘ON’
and One labeled ‘OFF’.
[And as the cold reality of their past began to sink in, the Narrator decided that this machinery would never again exert its terrible power over another human life.
For they would dismantle the controls once and for all.
And when at last they found the source of the room's power, they knew it was their duty, their obligation, to put an end to this horrible place and to everything it stood for.]
The Narrator would never admit it to anyone but for a split second a selfish part of his brain wanted to turn the machine on. To inflict the same suffering that was placed upon him on someone else. They could force their boss to type out the same sentence for all of eternity and force him to enjoy it or worse, leave him conscious enough to truly be in agony for the entire experience.
The better half of him wouldn’t allow this.
He had come all this way with the Box’s help. If it hadn’t been for Box he would not have known he was trapped so he at the very least owed it this small favor. He would play the role cast upon him in a story that was never meant to be about him.
At least he thought it was never meant to be about him.
He lightly pressed their hand into the on button and gasped when the lights went off. “Is it over? Am I free?”
[Yes! Narrator had done it! He had beat the machine and unshackled himself from its command! Your freedom is just mere moments away, well done Narrator.]
The Narrator smiled, the large door in front of him began to slowly lower itself and as the sunlight poured in he couldn’t help but think out loud. “Where have my coworkers gone? How was I freed from the machine's grasp? What other mysteries does this strange building hold?”
[As sunlight streamed into the chamber he realized none of this mattered to him.
For it is not knowledge nor power that you have been seeking, but happiness.
Perhaps your goal was never to understand, but to let go.
No longer will anyone tell you where to go, what to do or how to feel.
Whatever life you live.
It will be yours.]
And that was all they needed to know.
It was perhaps the only thing worth knowing.
The Narrator walked forward and stepped through the open door. He basked in the sunlight like a cat on a windowsill. He enjoyed the feeling of the cool wind on his skin, it felt like freedom. As though this was exactly where he was meant to be. They stared down the immense path in front of him and laughed in excitement. He turned to face the textbox one last time only to be shocked by the sight of a pale blue figure behind the textbox. It had what looked to be fluffy hair and no facial features with the exception of a nose. Somehow the Narrator knew who the creature was. They had been traveling together this entire time. As he looked over its body he realized its torso tapered off into a long black tail like a snake or maybe… a ghost?
Hands appeared in front of the creature as it waved the Narrator goodbye. It pointed to the textbox as words wrote themselves across it for a final time.
[And the Narrator was happy.]
He was…
Then his vision faded to white. That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?
The Narrator opened his eyes, he was back at this office. “What? No, nonononono this is wrong this is all wrong I left I was gone I said goodbye to the box and I walked away how the hell did I end up back here?” When he looked out of his office door he noticed that the ghost-like being from earlier was outside placing a stack of papers on a desk.
“You! What have you done?”