Work Text:
Waking up in the Parable at his desk was what he had grown used to. A blank monitor, a fallen mug, a stack of scattered papers, and the audible thrum of an AC unit.
Nothing ever really changed in this place. The same day repeating day after day, month after month, year after year, decade after decade. The only difference laid in the choices he made and the conversations he had with his narrator, the one thing in this place that actually made it the least bit bearable.
Heh.
Stanley almost let out a laugh. It was funny, he thought, how this all had began. Or, what he thought to be the beginning (who truly knew in this place? The Narrator, perhaps, but even his memory wasn’t perfect, no matter what the entity said to refute this. After all, Stanley remembered that button. He remembered the Zending. The aching feeling of loneliness in his chest, that raw, and aching guilt that refused to ever truly leave).
Once perceived to be enemies, his own fault really, and then to tentative companions, Stanley had to marvel at their relationship. What were they to each other, now, after all this time? After all, they were both trapped here whether they liked it or not. Only the two of them (barring the others, who he rarely ever talked to). The Narrator, forever doomed to this liminal space as a constant observer and overseer, and Stanley…Well, Stanley wasn’t exactly sure what he was in this scenario, but a prisoner, he was nonetheless, no less than the Narrator.
(He refused to accept the fact that he was merely just a suit of numbers, pieced together from nothing but strings of code and overlaid with physical, made up textures. He had his own thoughts, his own feelings, his own identity . He was real , and he mattered, even if he was just another pawn in this strange world’s confusing design).
Stanley shifted in his seat, moving to get up. It was time to get on with the story, and having been here reminiscing for at least a few minutes already, he was sure his friend was starting to get a bit cranky. The Narrator never liked to be kept waiting for long, and to be honest, Stanley hated to make him wait (as if that wasn’t the guilt talking, even when that ending seemed like it had been years ago now.)
Just as he was about to leave his office, a brief flash in the peripheral of his right eye caught his attention. He blinked, moving his head to face the monitor.
There.
That was what had caught his attention.
There was a blinking dash in the top left hand corner of the screen, an indicator that usually displayed that the computer was on despite the blankness of the monitor. And while that in itself wasn’t unusual, the color itself was.
Usually, the colors stuck to a specific theme. Sometimes they changed here and there, forming a few different shades of blue to different shades of green, but they were always just that.
Blue or green.
It was a small detail, one that most wouldn’t pay attention to, but being stuck in the Parable for as long as he has, one learned to pay attention to the slightest shift in detail. Whether it be slightest color change, a texture shift, or the movement of an object to the briefest amount to the left, Stanley observed it all (it was all he really could do).
But back to the blinking dash.
It was red.
A blinking shade of vibrant red that almost seemed to glow. The longer Stanley looked at, the brighter it seemed to become, an almost enticing shade that seemed to beckon him closer, glitches growing and beginning to spread slowly across the screen.
Wait.
Glitches?
Stanley was thrown off. He knew how much the Narrator cared about his game. There was absolutely no chance in hell that he would have let a virus into this game world of theirs unless it was just to mess with him.
The office worker gave the screen a look, a scrutinizing one as he stared at it in disbelief, before glancing at the ceiling with a raised eye brow. He was kind of surprised that there wasn’t any dialogue or witty quips form the Narrator at this point. For how long he knows he’s been standing in his office in his office, this was quite unusual.
Was this some kind of trick? Or was it a new attempt at an ending that the Narrator was trying to subtlety goad him into. While he didn’t do it quite that often, the Narrator had been making an effort to allow for a few new changes to to occur within the Parable in recent resets, having finally understood that Stanley’s human mind wasn’t capable of receiving proper stimulation never ending repetible loops on end.
But, again, back to the screen.
Another blink, and this time a glitch seemed to just right off the screen. Where it before seemed to just be 2D dimensional, glitching at the edges of the monitor, it now seemed to have entered into the 3rd dimension, hovering, yet still glitching, in mid air in front of the screen where the red blinking and glitches continued. Except this time, black glitches now accompanied the floating red ones.
Huh.
Well this was now certainly weird.
Aaaaand the ongoing silence even more so.
Stanley took a step back, the floating glitches seeming to come closer. Something in his mind seemed to trigger whatever human instinct he still had to be wary, to flee, to attempt to get away.
(This wasn’t right)
The door shut behind him, an annoyed voice echoing throughout the Parable as the lock clicked shut.
Um.
What.
Stanley glanced up at the ceiling, body facing the random glitches, his back to the door, while his left hand started to frantically jiggle the handle.
He signed at the ceiling with his free hand.
Narry
Narry what’s going on
This isn’t funny
The glitches appeared to be creeping even closer and Stanley could feel his panic beginning to grow, now attempting to desperately jiggle the door handle even more, turning and facing away from those terrifying lights.
Why wasn’t the Narrator responding to him? Was this a new game? Well it wasn’t funny, and he would very much like to get out now. Get out and continue on with the Parable please. Hell, if this was a prank, then it was one made in very poor taste.
His heart was starting to beat a mile per minute, his breaths growing more frantic as the door. Just. Wouldn’t. Budge.
He turned around, to glance back at the reaching glitches, and then froze. His breathing calmed, his hands beginning to still.
Why was he worried, he thought in a daze as he stared at the distorted, and blinking lights. His thoughts began to get a bit blurry, the faintest bit of static beginning to fill his mind.
The lights, bright and dark as they were, constantly shifting and comforting in the air, brushed against his skin. His mind began to grow even more fuzzy, and a strange feeling of euphoria needled its way into his skin. He felt chills race down his spine. and a want beginning to fill his chest.
More
He barely realized he was mouthing the words. Hs took a step towards the glitching mass that had now engulfed his computer.
More
He didn’t seem to notice as the glitches began to cling onto his skin, some digging into his flesh like tiny little worms, lighting up his veins as it raced into his skin and through his neurons and straight into his skull.
More
He didn’t seem to notice as his hands seemed to join in the glitching, color shifting from natural, human pigmentation to one more akin to that of a computer program. Lines of both that vibrant red and black decorated his skin, seeming to melt into his flesh, leaving visible and traceable marks.
More. Please More.
(What?)
(What am I….?)
(This isn’t right.)
His face twisted into a dazed grin, his mind barely comprehending anything else.
Such Pretty colors.
(Help me)
And he knew no more.