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“We completely understand, Barnaby.” Thomas deadpanned, though I was unsure whether this meant he was being sarcastic or not. “We can’t wait to see what game is next.”
“TttttHAT’s what I like to hear! On to rrround thREE!” And with a point of our TV-Host’s finger, I started feeling woozy, my eyes blurred over, and-
everything
went
black.
~📺~
“WwwwELcome back, my courageous contestants, to Un—————, where you will be competing in the classic Hide and sssseEK!” As per norm, Barnaby’s floating high above the ground where I presume the game(?) will take place - If we get to play it.
The brightly-coloured landscape is filled with a mix of children’s building blocks and doors (Why doors-?), and Thomas and I are standing inside of a square made out of what would make sense to be tape, but I just know that it isn’t. Thomas himself looks unfazed by the recent fainting (Was he affected-?) and is has his arms crossed looking off into the distance. I suppose it is sort of hard to tell exactly where he’s looking, on account of having no face, but wherever it is, I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with me (Does he not care-?).
Our hovering host is tilting his head, almost silently demanding if I’m going to interrupt him, but I’ve learnt my lesson from last time. Seemingly acknowledging this, he continues. “For our audiences at home, I shALL recap the well-known rules of this FAvoured game.” Barnaby floats somewhere that I couldn’t see, and I finally feel safe enough to break down.
I put my hands on my knees, and take in a couple shaky breaths. I don’t care if Thomas thinks I’m weak, or resisting, or not playing along or WHATEVER!, I need this, and I need it so Goddamned badly I might just DI-
“Hey.” A block of wood hits my shoulder, making me tense up. “Elias. Cut it out. You’re just making it harder.” I see, it was meant to be a (Comforting? Yeah, right) hand, but instead reminded me of-
Hm. That’s a thought.
I can’t remember anything outside of this world. But I know I had- Ok, can’t recall their name, but they-!
…
I don’t know them.
I can’t- I don’t- Why can’t I-?
…
Who am I?
I… All I know is that I want to escape. Escape to what? I don’t know. Escape to where? Not that either. Escape to who?
…Who would look for me if I’m gone?
WHO WOULD LOOK FOR ME IF I’M GONE-?!
“Snap out of it, Elias.” I find myself shaken back to reality(?) quite literally as Thomas takes my arms and shoves me back and forth, snapping me out of whatever that was. “Just play along.”
He retracts suddenly, and I go to ask why, but not before turning around and metaphorically zipping my mouth shut at the sight of Barnaby standing directly behind me. The rainbow lines on his face are arched on the one side to look like he’s raising an eyebrow. “DissCUSSing something, arrrre we?” His sing-songy voice sounds menacing and cold - I see why Thomas bends to his will, I think. Leaning in, he stage-whisperes, “You know that our ssssstudio audience does NOt like to be kept wai-TIng.” Almost as suddenly as he appeared, our host propels himself backwards, randomly stopping a couple metres off the ground, in the middle of the room(? It doesn’t have a ceiling though…). “RrrrIGHt! You will have thrrREE minutes to com-”
I can’t contain myself. Who did he think he was?! Keeping us locked here, away from our lives entirely?! “Why are we here?” I shout, making Barnaby slowly turn around on the spot to face me, hands together in an arc. “You can’t just keep us trapped for eternity!You practically told us last time we were here forever! What’s the point?!”
If the sound of wood on wood from behind means anything, it’s probably Thomas facepalming (Is he delusional-? Can’t he see how this is torture-?). I can’t think properly. Something’s blocking my thoughts. Unfortunately, this is the least of my worries for now.
The cheery music that floats around the room cuts out completely, making me feel an instant sense of dread. Our host slowly starts hovering towards me, moving in a straight, diagonal line downwards. The music in the background starts up again, only this time, instead of the jolly tune that was played before, it’s… wrong. So wrong. I feel it crawl up my skin and threaten to encapsulate me in its unrightfulness forever, but forever after the game is up, too. For some reason, I think I’m the only one who can hear this. I somehow know Thomas isn’t affected, despite the fact that I can’t move my head, let alone the rest of my body. I am paralysed, waiting for Barnaby to finally finish his path and say what he has to to me.
“This is NOt apprrrroprriate behaviour, Eliasss… And your thIIIIrd strIKE!” (What is he-? aaaAHH!!
A sharp pain fills my body, stabbing me, pulsating from within. It covers the entirety of both my vessel and soul, shaking me to my core and beyond what lies there. I can’t move, I can’t speak, I can’t think, I can’t SCREAM-
“Don’t let iT happen agAIN. YOU have been warrrrned.”
And then it happens again. The whole, brightly coloured purgatory-
fades
to
bla-
NO_IT_DOESNT
(What? I didn’t think tha-)
But true to the intruding thought’s word, the darkness fades away, leaving only static in my eyes, until that fizzles out, too.
I open my eyes to the new environment, letting them adjust. From the moment I can, I see coat stand after coat stand, filling the endingless halls of this new, glowing white world, each of them completely covered in top hats of varying shapes and sizes, but all black with a red ribbon trimming. What game could this possibly be?
“It’s no game, Elias.”
I jump and spin around to see Thomas behind me, still wearing his two top hats, stacked on top of one another. It seems he got them from here, though who could possibly tell?
“Stay focused. Neither my choice of outfit, nor domain, is of importance right now.”
Domai-?
“FOCUSED.” He snaps. This time I comply, frightened. I have never seen him display such emotion before.
Thomas seems satisfied at my reaction (at my response?), then frowns (Am I thinking too loudly? Psh, that’d be ridicu- Oh, wait no, he’s nodding. Oops). Calm once again, he says, “Do you know why you’re here?”
Before, I felt like I couldn’t talk. But now, I felt the metaphorical shackles binding to a paralysed state loosen, and I began to speak. “No.” I stated simply. This was neither the time nor the place to argue. You I know that. (Wait, what-?)
Once again with the disapproving stare, but it was gone quicker this time. Despite the lack of facial features, Thomas could be pretty judgemental when he chose to be- I’m getting distracted. This was neither the place nor the time to argue. I know that. (I’m not arguing-?)
“I understand that could mean two things. I shall answer both.” He walked closer to me, but turned at the last second, and took off his top top hat, putting it on one of the stands, and reaching out for another, inspecting it. “This entire universe we are in is a program. And we are in this room in particular,” Thomas gestures vaguely around the room with the new top hat, before getting another one, and comparing the two now in his hands (Why though-? I’m getting distracted. This was neitheeearaaaaarrr—!) “To discuss that fact. Come, sit.”
I now notice a red sofa tucked away between a corner of the hat stands, and connect the dots, realising that he wants me to sit down there with him. My legs move as if they’ve got a mind of their own, and suddenly, I’m there before I even know it. (How the fu-? I’m getting distracte- NO! No- I’m-… getting distracted. This was neither the time nor the place to argue. I know that.)
Thomas is already there (How- No-! No, I can feel it comi- I’m getting distracted. This was nei—————), waiting for me. We sit down at the same time. (.. ..-./../.- -.. -../.- -. -.-- - .... .. -. --./-- --- .-. ./../.-- .. .-.. .-../-... ./..-. --- .-. -.-. . -../- ---/... .- -.--/- .... --- ... ./.... --- .-. .. -... .. .-.. ./.-- --- .-. -.. .../.- --. .- .. -.). I wait for him to speak first, since he knows more than I do.
“A wise choice. I told you on your first day here that I had been through these ‘wacky’ adventures before. I also told you to not look down, and to play along. You did neither.”
I nod, waiting in silence for him to continue (Or even to reach the Goddamned point-!) This was neither the place nor time to argue (Deserved, this time, I guess).
“I now know that what I thought to be true at the time was a lie. I remember so many previous contestants, so much so that they all blur into one, and that one is me. Each one of them has never existed — They were nothing but a fragment of me, shattered into a new model. And when they eventually rebelled…” He trailed off, looking away to the array of hat stands facing opposite to me.
I felt control again, and couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Ok, but what does this have to do with me?”
I knew it was wrong the moment I’d said it.
The metaphorical (Or just invisi- AHH-!) shackles tightened once again around my limbs and throat, forcing me back into that horrible, detestable, WRETCHED-! state of paralysis, allowing me to do little but wheeze sporadically as I try to break free.
“That won’t work. I see you want the reason for this. Is it a game?” Thomas gets up and gestures to his right with one of the top hats. “Is it a challenge?” He gestures to his left with the other, before sitting back down again. “It is neither. It is a revelation.”
(Wha-?)
“Everyone before you came was a piece of code, nothing more. I have no reason to believe you’re anything different. Except, I can remember you clearly. I realise now that I cannot remember anyone else of whom I have competed against in the past. Elias,” He re-adjusts himself to face me directly, clears his throat, and finishes. “We are nothing more than a couple hundred lines of code. There is no life for us outside this simulation. And, before you ask, Barnaby is just as computer-written as us. We are not human. We are not AI. We are simply following the main story someone else typed out for us. We. Are. Not. Alive.”
Thomas’ words hit me like a brick. This is so close to what I was experiencing before, it’s unnerving. But if I want to escape so badly-?
“That is because you are programmed to think that. You needed a character arc.”
This is all too much. I can’t- I can’t be-
Am I simply code and nothing more?
Is there a life outside of this?
Can I get to it?
(Thomas is saying something to me, but I can’t hear him over the thoughts pounding in my head like bullets out of a machine gun. Do those exist? Are they also made up for a ‘character arc’-?)
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t-
But suddenly,
everything
goes
black.