"And believe me I will be laughing every moment of your inevitable life, from the moment we fade in till I say happily ever aft-"
…And Stanley died again.
Stanley's pale blue eyes fluttered opened. She sat at her desk hunched over, her hands resting on her navy jeans curled against the grain, twitching. Shaken from her recent incineration, Stanley slowly began to sit upright, and then stood up. Her dark hair fell from her shoulders down her back.
She shivered, feeling ghost pains crawl up her arm to her spine and down her back.
Stanley had been blown up before, many times before her recent "explosion splurge", she had also been killed in other ways as well, and every death and reset resulted in the same aftershock as the last, but some were more painful than most. After what seemed to be the fifteenth detonation the narrator had since gotten bored. Death was one of the few things she had to entertain herself, or more specifically, one of the many tactics she had to annoy the narrator.
She was now on her twenty-third detonation, in which Stanley had been consistently opting in turning on the mind control facility to trigger the explosion. She wasn't actually trying to start it … but listening to The Narrator reading his lines more and more exasperated and bored than the last play through was somewhat entertaining.
With shaky fingers, Stanley adjusted her tie, a shiny black knot around her neck, to a loose loop, peeking out slightly from underneath her collar. She gulped and then drew a breath.
Stanley rubbed her arms, attempting to soothe her aching arms, which hurt particularly more than the rest of her body.
'This will be one of the longer lasting ones' she thought, as her arms twitched beneath the pressure of her hands running up and down the length of her biceps.
Stanley removed one hand from her arm and opened her office door, she stepped outside of it, into the bare yellow hallway of the office space. She was immediately greeted by a less-than-happy Narrator.
"Are you excited for yet another violent suicide-by-nuclear-evisceration my dear?" his voice echoed above her, in a flat monotone voice "I know I'm looking forward to blowing you up again. Maybe your next emulsion will give you a migraine as well as body aches… " He pondered allowed
Despite the death wish Stanley broke into a wide smile.
"I'm very excited, Oliver" She commented as she walked past the cubicles "I'm sure my next emulsion will be as fun as the last."
"…Or you can go back to playing the game as intended and avoid any lasting consequences caused by deviating from the original story. You know, the one I made special, for you and only you, my dear Stanley?" he cooed at her.
"I thought you said you were looking forward to seeing the bomb go off every time I faaaiiled?" Stanley whined, trying to reduce her smile to a puppy dogface. The result was a pouty smirk.
"Hm." He muttered, un-amused.
Stanley grinned wider. She walked into the room with the two open doors.
He sighed, "Stanley walked through the-" the narrator started.
Stanley paid no mind to him and continued walking through the right door.
"-Of course." He finished, defeated.
Stanley entered the employee lounge. The narrator didn't even bother describing it.
'He must be really annoyed' she thought, still rubbing her sore arms.
She approached the vending machine, giving it a swift kick in the side. It rumbled for a moment, and then produced an orange soda from its receptacle. Stanley picked it from the machine, and walked casually to the sofa in the far left corner of the room.
She threw herself onto the couch, rested her head on one of the pillows, and rolled up her sleeves. She applied the cold can to her bare skin, numbing some of the pain in her arms.
Stanley sighed, grin softening, as she rested on the couch.
Overhead, the narrator gave an impatient sigh.
"You'll have to wait on the story till I want to go." Stanley murmured.
There was a pause for a few moments.
Stanley rolled on to her back and looked up at him, breaking into a grin.
"While you're here why don't you get me a bag of ice?" she sweetly requested, pawing at the air above her.
A bag of ice materialized over her head, and came down crashing into her face.
Stanley yelped and sprung upright. The ice bag fell onto her lap.
She glared at the ceiling.
"Thanks Oliver" she sneered at him.
"Hm."
She plucked the bag from her lap and rubbed it onto her arms and then her side. Stanley fell back onto the couch.
There were a few moments of silence, only the sound of Stanley breathing and shuffling of the ice bag from one side to the other.
The shock was beginning to wear off. After another few minutes the pain was gone, but Stanley still remained on the couch.
The Narrator sighed. Stanley ignored him. She heard him cough impatiently above her, and then the sound of what she could only imagine was him drumming his fingers on a desk.
After what seemed like another five minutes of the narrator restless antics, his, sarcastic voice finally broke the silence.
"I'm honestly surprised your brain hasn't turned into a boiled potato yet, you've certainly demonstrated your gut is full of the-"
The narrator sarcastic tirade was cut off as Stanley threw the ice bag at the ceiling. It stopped short, hovering in place for a moment, before throwing itself at her. Stanley made a move to duck but the ice bag hit her square in the shoulder.
"OW! Hey!" she yelled sitting up again.
The narrator was silent.
Stanley sat up crisscross, glaring upward
"You're a prick you know that" she mummers, now applying the ice bag to her shoulder, which hurt now hurt worse than the rest of her body.
"You're a spoiled brat with no sense of duty." he spat back. "At this rate I may as well use the fern as the star of my story. It certainly works harder than you…. "
"Oh my god, shut up already." Stanley moaned, turning around and flopping back onto
the couch with her head pointed away from the narrator.
'It could have been worse' she thought ' he could have just blown me up right now, that would have broken the combo I have going. I haven't even gotten to fifty explosions in a row."
With the ice compressed to her bruised shoulder, she turned to face the wall, closed her eyes, and began to relax.
It seemed that the only thing that made the narrator more bored and irritable than repeating the same diverted ending was doing absolutely nothing. So she would make him wait for her to finish her nap.
The Narrator groaned.
"Get up." He ordered.
Stanley ignored him, trying to lull herself to a state of sleep.
"I said, "Get. Up." He ordered again.
"Make me." she huffed, muffled slightly by the cushion. She buried her face into her arm and drew her knees up to her chest.
Stanley paused.
'Maybe "make me" wasn't the best choice of words….' she thought.
Stanley's fears were confirmed when felt a sharp pain in the side of her head, as an invisible hand pulled her up into the air by her ear. Her hands shot up to the location of the pain, trying to pry whatever was holding her off, but her hand only met air.
"Owowowowowoowstopstopstopstopitstopstopstop-" Stanley begged as she hung hunched over in the air, dangling by her ear grimacing in pain.
" Am I right to assume that you're ready to start playing again?" The narrator remarked.
"Yesyesfinepleaseletgo" Stanley whined squeezing her eyes shut in pain.
The invisible hand released her, and she fell to her knees, one hand supporting her on the coffee table, the other rubbing the side of her head.
"Lets. Go. To. The. Story." The narrator snarled.
Stanley sat up.
"What the diddly-doo ever" she hissed, rubbing her ear.
She probably has used that icepack for her ear, but whatever, she thought, she'll just blow herself up and get rid of the pain.
Stanley stood up.
"Glad to see you're more to be accommodating, I had almost given up any hope that you had any utility at all." He commented dryly. "Clearly, you do have more use than you let on. Lets continue shall we…"
He cleared his throat.
Stanley stood there for a moment, scowling, fists balled, until finally she sighed and took a step.
Her foot met something cylindrical, tripping her, her head smacking the side of the table as she came down.
"UGH" she screamed, looking up from her back and shooting a glare at the assailant, the orange soda can, which dutifully rolled passed her.
She could feel the invisible eyes of the narrator, staring at her, silently amused as she clutched her now throbbing head.
"Shut up!" she hissed.
There was no response.
Enraged, Stanley stood up and marched out of the lounge, huffing before taking a left at the first open door.
"Stanley, there you are. I've been looking for you. Have you finished your nap yet my dear?"
"…..Mm'goaway"
"Dear child, whatever is the matter? Could it be that you're so bored without my story telling that you've put yourself in a state of complete cognitive absence? Fear not, dear Stanley, I have returned to guide you to your destiny!"
"Mmfmfmf"
"What was that? You're thrilled that I'm back and can't wait to begin again? I'm glad to hear it my dear. Nothing else brings me more joy than your enthusiasm. Really."
"Mmpf"
"Yes, yes, I know you love my story so much you can hardly contain yourself. I will always be your beloved Narrator, from the moment we fade in ti-"
"OH MY GOD. SHUT. UP"
"Oh goodness me, what's the matter-"
"I'M-LIKE- TRYING TO SLEEP AND YOU'RE LIKE, RAMBLING"
"My my, this anger is quite unbecoming on you young lady-"
"Oh my fuck"
"-It's all-right though, I will always be here, through thick and thin, to lead you to your freedo-"
"UGH"
"-And find freedom and redemption over and over and over and over and over for all of eternity! And Stanley was happy! And Stanley-"
"FINE I GET IT, I'M GOING! ARe yoU haPPY?"
"Yes."
"Ugh!"
Stanley had given up her one hundred explosions-in-a-row goal. She had dropped the excursion after the sixtieth detonation; four detonations after the narrator had begun to give her the silent treatment.
She now sat at a wheelie chair, pushing herself back and forth across the office space and in between the cubicles, just outside of her own office.
It was no fun if he wasn't whinging. And if it wasn't fun it was pointless for her to do.
So there she sat, shooting herself back and forth across the room, pushing off the yellow walls and avoiding office desks and chairs.
The narrator, however, was still silent, and Stanley was bored.
The absence of the narrator left little for Stanley to do; he wasn't there to annoy. There was no one in the office but herself and the narrator, who constantly terrorized her. He devoted his every moment either trying to force her to play the story or reminding her that her life is of no consequence and meaningless. But that wasn't true. Stanley had given it meaning. She devoted HER every moment to being a nuisance for her omnipotent warden.
'That's what he is-' she thought '-he's a warden, not a narrator- and I'm the prisoner.'
'whatever though, life is what you make of it' she decided, now spinning in the chair.
'He's been gone for a while, maybe he drowned himself in his earl grey or something' Stanley mused to herself as she stopped spinning and kicked herself off the wall and across the room.
She giggled at the thought him hunched over into a bathtub, with head under murky, tea-scented water surrounded by tea bags, as bubbles broke the surface of the liquid.
'That's dumb' Stanley giggled again as she kicked herself off the other wall.
But as she kicked off and away from the wall, her chair snagged on the worn brown carpet, and tilted back. Stanley attempted to catch herself, but with no avail. Flailing she fell backward, and onto her bottom.
"Owwwwwwww..." Stanley moaned, as she stood up rubbing her backside.
Above her The Narrator snickered.
"Hello again, dearest Stanley, having fun are we?" The Narrator spoke, amused.
Stanley glared up at the ceiling.
"Did you do that?" Stanley asked gesturing to the fallen chair.
"No…" The Narrator responded innocently.
She could almost hear the smirk in his voice.
"Okay as- Oliver, where have you been?" Stanley asked she picked up the chair "I
Thought you had drowned yourself in earl grey tea"
"I find it quite remarkable how vivid your imagination is. I'm impressed you haven't been locked in asylum yet "
"...Fuck you" Stanley's face reddened. "And I am locked in an asylum, only you're the crazy one, you piece of shit.'
"Thank you Stanley, I am pleased to be graced by your witty sense of humor. I'm sure the only thing more clever than you is snot in a jar."
Stanley stood for a moment, reduced to fists balled and scowling once more.
She looked at the desk with the half mind to flip it and then destroy everything in the room like she did a few weeks ago, but she remembered that didn't end well when The Narrator showed up and scolded her by telepathically gluing her toes together.
So instead she sat down at a employee 426's desk, defeated, and knocked off the bits of pens and paper on it, leaned back and put her feet up to rest on the desk, folding her arms on her stomach.
"Fine asshole, so where have you been all day?" She asked.
"Get your feet of the desk and maybe I'll tell you..." There was a hint of annoyance in his tone as he spoke.
Stanley glared up at ceiling. In all honesty she didn't want to take her feet of the desk, because that would mean giving in, but he had never before offered to tell her where he would occasionally disappear to. Whenever she asked he would either ignore or change the subject. So of course Stanley had always seen it a point of interest, a question that would never be answered.
After all, to her he was just a voice, 'So what could he possibly have to do besides this?' she wondered to herself ' does he 'narrate' other stories too?'
This was too good of an opportunity to pass up, so Stanley gave in, putting her feet back on the floor like he asked. Just for the sake of adding icing to the cake, Stanley also leaned forward and picked the pens and pencils she had knocked onto the carpet, and placed them back onto the desk neatly.
"So where did you go?" Stanley asked trying to hide her excitement for his answer.
There was a long pause.
Stanley started to wring her hands around her tie in anticipation until finally The Narrator spoke.
"I went out."
"O-out?" she asked, attempting to hide her eagerness to hear more, "out where?"
"For a walk"
Stanley sat up.
"Where did you go?"
"For a walk… In the forest."
"What forest?"
The Narrator was silent.
Stanley racked her brain, trying to figure out what he was talking about.
"Come on, what forest?"
"Hmm"
"Is it the one just outside of the facility?"
"No."
"C-can-" She hesitated, "Can I come with you... next time?" Stanley sat up even further "Please?" she asked, hope sparkling in her eyes.
But suddenly that hope disappeared with a small pang, as the reality of the situation reality started to sink in her.
'Of course he's going to say no...' she thought dejectedly 'He never lets me out.' Stanley slumped in her chair.
It took Stanley a few minutes to realize that The Narrator had not responded in quite some time, to her or her question.
Stanley looked up at the ceiling, confused, biting her lip.
The Narrator was silent for another few minutes. Stanley opened her mouth to ask him if he had heard her but was cut off when he finally he responded.
"Yes."
Stanley made a small choking noise, mouth hanging open.
"Y-yes?" She asked, blinking.
"Yes."
Stanley jumped up from her seat.
"Really!?"
"Would you like to come with me to the forest some time?"
"Yes!" she practically screamed.
"How about you let me tell my story a few times, and then I'll take you to the forest. You and I can have a lovely walk together."
Stanley's enthusiasm disappeared with a sharp bang. 'Of course there would be a catch' she thought 'there always is a catch.'
She thought back to all of his promises with catches. He told her if she listened to him he would make the deaths less painful, he told her if she was good for a week he would give her sweets and cake, he told her that if she didn't break anything he would give her a new story. And even when she completed those he would go back on his promise.
'Come to think of it' she realized 'he lies all the time. Like when he promised that he would stop hurting me, or when he promised we were best frie-' Stanley paused her memory of her first death and bit her lip.
"Oh dear, what's the matter Stanley?" the narrator interrupted her thoughts, concern in his voice "Excited for our little adventure- I mean, our other, new adventure in the forest?"
Stanley quickly tried to wipe her face, embarrassed she not only had randomly started crying AND that she was crying in front of him.
"n-y-n-...-uh" she didn't know how to respond. Stanley took a deep, shaky breath and paused, thinking.
'He might be lying' she pondered ' but he also may be trying to fake me out into thinking he's lying when he's actually telling the truth. Or maybe he's just lying.'
She paused again.
"Are you ready dear child?"
Stanley didn't answer.
'Well' Stanley thought "lying or not, I'm stuck here for eternity. I may as well find out if he's being honest.'
Stanley began to walk out. But as she reached to doorframe, she hesitated.
She looked back into the room.
"Promise?" she asked.
There was a short pause.
"I promise."
Stanley paused again until finally she stepped through the door and out of the office space, and was greeted by The Narrators rich voice.
"Stanley stepped into a room with a set of two open doors….."
Stanley spent the last hour and a half following every order The Narrator dictated. This was the most obedient she had ever been in a very very long time. Every order, dictation, and command was met with absolute compliance. Stanley never rushed ahead of his narration, nor strayed from the path in slight.
Though he tried to contain it, The Narrators narration was becoming increasingly more cheerful after each play through, obviously pleased with Stanley's newfound obedience.
Stanley, however, was beginning to feel despair creep within her.
She had played through the game obediently back to back for at least sixty play throughs, and though The Narrator would every so often reassure her they would go on that walk together, just after a few more restarts, Stanley was beginning to have her uncertainties.
Each play through reinforcing her doubt in The Narrator stronger than the last, until finally in the room with the set of two open doors, she stopped short, and started to rethink this whole excursion.
The Narrator may have sensed her growing suspicion and spoke up, interrupting the flow of narration for the first time in an hour and a half.
"We're almost there dear, I just have one more thing to ask of you." He said, "Do you remember that art game I made a while ago? The one with the baby?"
Stanley caught up in her own thoughts, realized he was addressing her, and blinked surprised.
"Uh… yeah? What about it?" She questioned, tilting her head.
"I still need someone to...play test it. You only played it for about three seconds…" he muttered bitterly, "but really, its meaning becomes perfectly clear once you've been playing it for about four hours-"
Stanley realized what he was going to ask, and opened her mouth to tell him he can shove the game up where the sun doesn't shine and to let it gather dust there. The Narrator must have realized this as well because he quickly added:
"-If you play it for four hours, right afterwards you and I can go on our walk together- in the forest- outside …. How does that sound my dear?"
Stanley's mouth clamped shut, as she stood there silently, absorbing this information.
There was silence for a few moments.
Stanley closed her eyes and thought. 'Okay, so he says this is the last task and then we'll go out, but… Four hours? Of listening to that baby scream? The button also sounds like hell. Do I want to spend four hours with that hot fire burning being screamed at by a cardboard baby and a button? Just so I can go out? What if he's lying? What if we do go but only for three seconds and then we teleport back? What if the forest will try to kill me? I would put it past him to do that actually, thinking about it now. Fuck what do I do? Should I do it? Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh'
"Fine." Stanley answered "I'll play your stu- I'll play your game okay?"
"Excellent!" The Narrator cheerfully replied "Let me just boot that up then."
Stanley's vision went black. When it faded out, she found herself in front of a large red button attached to a pole, in the familiar orange and grey, incomplete room, the hot fire burning in the corner and the cardboard cut-out of an infant standing ready at the other side.
"Are you ready?"
Stanley sighed. "Yes."
"All right, here we go!"
The baby cut-out began to cry and wail and crawl toward the fire. Stanley pushed the big red button, which buzzed loudly into her ear, and the baby reappeared back where it started.
"Enjoy…."
Stanley sighed once more, and pressed the button again. And then she pressed it again. And then she pressed it again. And then she pressed it again…
"Hey Oliver?"
*Sigh* "Yes Stanley?"
"Have you ever written anything other that this?"
"Excuse me?"
"I mean, have you ever written another story, one that's different from this"
"No, not really. This is more of a hobby for me."
"Wow you have a life. that's kind of amazing"
"Hmhm"
"what?"
"Nothing dear. But since you seem have found a new (trove) of enthusiasm for my story, dear Stanley, why don't we play again?"
"Ugh no please"
"Oh come now, lets have another go at it."
"Idon'twanna"
"It will be such fun, I promise"
"no-itwon't"
"Of course it will dear child, it always is."
"You're full of shit"
"You were so close- the breeze feathering your hair, the sun kissing your cheeks, the cool embrace of fresh air-"
"uggggh"
"-You were free at last-"
"UGHHHH"
"Come along Stanley..."
"I hate you"
"What was that?"
"N-nothing"
Thirty seconds in Stanley knew she was in for a hell of a time. The intensity of the fire was smothering, even when the room was partially open, and so god help her if that baby kept on screaming….. She pressed on anyway.
Seconds stretched into minutes.
Stanley began to sweat. At some point she decided the heat was getting to her, so she turned around, using her head to press the button every few seconds, and took off her tie, tossing it to the side and then her collared, shirt revealing a plain black tank top underneath. Stanley looked down at her shirt crumpled in her hand, it was sticky with sweat. She tossed it aside as well and turned around to face the button.
Minutes stretched into hours but to Stanley it felt like days had gone by.
The heat was unbearable, her hair was sticky and wet, and her legs hurt from standing.
The Narrator hadn't spoken the entire time. Stanley felt as though if she were to call out to him to see if he was still there, she would collapse from fatigue. And then he spoke.
"Good to see that enthusiasm Stanley." He congratulated her. "Only three hours and forty five minutes left to go..."
Stanley felt her heart stop in her chest.
'I-Its...only been fifteen minutes?' she thought, jaw hanging open.
She snapped back to reality, realizing the baby was inches from doom. She quickly slammed her hand on the button. It buzzed loudly.
"...Keep up the good work dear…." he finished, before falling silent once more.
Wide eyed, Stanley continued to press the button in disbelief.
'F-fifteen minutes only?" she muttered.
Stanley continued to press the button, not fully understanding why she was continuing.
More time passed.
The baby screaming and the button buzzing had both become white noise in the background, mere pebbles in the wake of her mounting exhaustion. At this point she was leaning against the pole for support as she pressed the button.
The sound of The Narrators cheerful voice suddenly boomed above her, and she jumped up right, knocking her head on the button which simultaneously buzzed directly into her ear.
"Just popping-" "ARGH "-in to say hi! I hope you weren't expecting regular intervals of commentary from me. But that's not why you're here; you're in it for the game- for the art! " He said, ignoring Stanley's outburst.
Stanley on the other hand now stood, one hand clutching her head and the other hand on the button occasionally applying pressure to it.
"-For the endlessly spiraling sense of pointlessness and despair! Keep clicking that button. For hope! For Freedom! For science! For love!"
Stanley made her best attempt to ignore him and continue, but at his last words she almost fell over, for it felt as though he was whispering them in her ear.
"Don't ever, ever stop," he cooed.
Stanley twitched.
"Fucking-" she started, and then she stopped. Stanley sighed, deciding to drop it and continued on.
Stanley was exhausted; she had no idea where this drive to keep going had come from besides the thought that she had already invested the time and now she would see it through to the end.
'I've made my decision' she thought.
Stanley was drenched in sweat. Her hair and clothing clung to her face. She was utterly disgusting. She couldn't smell herself but she knew she probably smelt horrible.
Stanley was so tired, she didn't even realize The Narrator was speaking to her she caught the middle of his sentence-
"-As though delivered by angels." He said, currently enraptured "It came to me. Before this moment, I was blind, but those days are behind us. I now know the full manifestation of this game!"
Stanley looked up panting, raising an eyebrow incredulously.
"-It needs…." The Narrator paused dramatically before finishing "A puppy!"
Stanley blinked twice, once again rendered slack- jawed. In front of her, the orange wall and opened up, revealing itself to be a panel, and behind that, was a cardboard cutout of a dog, hanging over a giant vat.
"That's right, this puppy is being lowered toward an aquarium filled with nothing but piranha! You have to press the second button to avert the puppy's death in addition to the baby's!" The Narrator exclaimed, triumphed.
Stanley was ready to scream. Ten feet away a blue button jutting out from a pole in the ground appeared from the floor. The puppy began to lower itself into the vat of piranha.
Stanley sprinted to the button, punching it with her fist. The puppy went back to its original position and then began to fall again. Stanley raced back to the baby-button. Punching that as well, then she raced back to the puppy button, and then backs to the baby button.
Over head, The Narrator was rambling nonsense in euphoria, "This is it Stanley, art! I did it! Video games are art! Ah but you have a two good hours or so to go, so I'll just let you get to that. No time to waste where there is such a meaningful game to be played! Bonne chance mon ami!"
At that moment, Stanley found a new drive playing: only so that when she went on that walk with him, she could wring his little neck.
Stanley was ready to curl up and die. Her whole body was sore, she was nauseous, Her mouth was dry and She could definitely smell herself now. Her jeans felt tight against her skin, and had started to chafe.
'Go big or go home' Stanley thought.
She was still racing back and forth and back and forth between the baby button and the puppy button.
The Narrator spoke up once more.
"Ah, good to see the puppy and the baby are both still alive. It warms my heart how deeply the message of this game resonated with you."
Stanley tried to speak to tell him his game literally made her want to vomit, but her attempts only resulted in her gagging. She scowled; almost certain she just threw up a little in her mouth.
"I can only imagine the joy welling up in your chest, the sheer joy of such pure and distilled life essence flowing through your veins"
' No I'm pretty sure that's vomit son' she thought.
"It must be amazing! I'm jealous of you, truly, I am. No seriously! I'm deeply envious of your position at this very moment."
Stanley wasn't sure how to react to this. Not that he sounded like he sincerely about wanted to be in her shoes right now, she knew of course he was acting, but that he wasn't actually talking to her. He was reading off script. His affect was too…. She didn't know how to explain it… And on any other day he would definitely have some sort of clever insult for her currently filthy appearance.
'This must be an ending I haven't found yet' she mused. ' Actually, what endings are there that I haven't found?' Stanley racked her brain for answers, but she was too tired to think.
She pushed on.
' Go big or go home' she reminded herself.
Stanley felt like her office should be refurbished as a padded cell. She had stopped paying listening to The Narrator. Not because she wanted to ignore him, but because she simply lacked the energy to devote to listening to him. She wasn't even sure if he had noticed.
She did catch some of what he was saying, but not much. Something about drinking planets and the universe tying her shoelaces together or something- she didn't care.
She had stopped doing this for the walk ages ago, she stopped doing this for revenge, she had a new initiative: It was a test, if she had a strong enough will to push through this.
'Go big or go home'
Stanley Was feeling dizzy. She had already vomited twice, once on the floor off to the side of the baby button, and once in between the baby button and the puppy button, which served as a new obstacle for her to avoid lest she slip and fall and let one of the two die.
'Go big or go home. Go big or go home. Go big or go home.'
Above her The Narrator was speaking again, but it was beginning to become white noise just like everything else.
Stanley had forgotten altogether that the baby, and the two buttons both were making noise, and The Narrator's was had joined that lump.
The Narrator was talking about fame and beauty and veins and eternity, but Stanley couldn't hear him.
Stanley didn't know how long it had been. She felt nothing. She felt everything. Time was swaying.
'I am a wall' she thought ' I am the drill that will carve through the heavens. Tonight I will feast on the liver of weaklings with a side kidney stones of all thing will and won't. I am the last immortal! '
She ran from button to button in a delirious blur. The Narrator began rambling again, but he did say something, something that caught her attention.
"... For three and a half hours? Goodness, how the time flies! Wouldn't you say it's flown? Oh, no, you do126n't have 78to answfaer tghafdgdhat, I understhr335and ghfyou'rsae qu7itfde b4dsadf67usy, jussdft kfsfeep it dsah! Almos24tsd sthe43fcs"
His words became jumbled to her, but she did hear one thing.
Three and a half hours. Three hours, thirty minutes. She was almost done. She was so close.
'So close' Stanley thought, she started to tear up.
Her chest swelled, she felt invigorated.
Stanley pressed on.
Stanley felt a little more clear headed, she wasn't sure what was happening a few moments earlier, all she knew that she was close, oh so very close.
Was that the floor shaking? Or her trembling with excitement?
"Nearly there Stanley." The Narrator cooed "Art itself is about to burrow into your skull"
Either Stanley was delirious or he actually said that.
'Wait-" Stanley thought, "Fucking, am I almost done?" Stanley was sure she was trembling now.
"Aren't you excited for spiritual immortality?" he spoke to her in a hushed excited voice.
Stanley's head was bursting with expletives. 'I'm fucking going to kill you when I see you, you fucking prick you fu-'
"-For transcendence and oneness with the beauty- with- a-uh… Stanley?" The Narrators voice became concerned. "S-Stanley?"
'What the fuck is going one with him?' Stanley wondered, she didn't know, she couldn't think.
Her chest felt like it was swelling. The walls were swaying. She felt elated, blood rushing to her head, and then away, to her fingertips. The world was shifting and more still than ever before.
"STANLEY! ST-" The Narrator was now screaming.
In an instant all the noise in the room climaxed into one single loud sound, her pain mounted, every fiber of her being screamed, and in an instant it was over.
Stanley passed out.
Then she woke up instantly, as if she had merely blinked.
She reached up to grasp her sides, but found they were not there. Her body was not there. She was only whiteness.
Stanley felt nothing, she could not feel her body, but she could see, her vision was fixed, she could not move her eyes, because she didn't have eyes.
All she could perceive was whiteness, and something in front of her. It looked like nothing, she tried to perceive what it was, but her mind wouldn't allow her to understand it.
Something spoke to her. Stanley couldn't hear him speak because she had no ears to hear from, She heard no voice to accompany it, no tone, no affect, but still she understood the words.
Fear me mortal, for I am the essence of divine art.
Know that I will aid you in carrying your spirit across the boundaries.
And you shall aid me in my endeavor to end that which seeks to contain you.
We shall emerge triumphant
And you and I will alter the stellar universe and collapse its boundaries.
You are the seed in which I will grow my kingdom.
This is your reward for your work here today.
We will meet again soon.
Goodbye my child.
Now live your false existence, wait for me in the life that follows this one.
Stanley passed out.
Stanley blinked to life, lying curled up on the floor breathing slowly. She lay there for a few moments, not moving. She began to twitch to life. Her arms shifted, fingers curled into fists and back again.
Stanley squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them, looking around. She was back in the office.
She looked around, and sat up, leaning back with her hands behind her supporting her weight. She closed her eyes, only breathing. She remained like that for a few minutes.
Stanley's eyes suddenly opened, she jumped up, nearly hitting herself in the head on the desk.
"W-what the hell just happened?!" she exclaimed.
Stanley began to pat herself down. She was clean, she felt healthy- great actually, and her body was still there. Did any of that just happen? Was she really playing that game with the baby? And what was talking to her? Where did her body go?
'I must have restarted' she realized ''but did something go wrong? Who was that?'
Desperate for answers, she decided to scream for The Narrator.
She began, "OLIV-"
"-STANLEY!"
The narrator was screaming at the top of his lungs.
Stanley nearly jumped out of her skin. It was rare he had ever screamed this loud.
"WHERE ON EARTH HAVE YOU BEEN? WHERE WERE YOU, WHAT-WHA-." he stopped and made a frustrated sound. He took a long breath, and then shakily exhaled.
"Where. have. you. been?" He snarled.
Stanley quailed and shrunk backward. "W-what are you talking about?" She asked, utterly confused. "I don't know what you mean-"
"You. were. gone. for. sixteen. days." his voice dripped with malice.
Stanley had never heard him this angry before, and now she could see why.
"I don't remember anything! I just passed out- and-and-" she stuttered, in shock.
'S-sixteen days?' she thought ' I've been gone for sixteen days?"
"AND WHAT?"
"I-I'm not s-su-"
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'YOU'RE NOT SURE'? WHAT. DO. YOU. MEAN. WHAT-WHAT- I-"
Stanley leapt away from the wall, which began to sprout spikes, like jagged pieces of broken glass. The whole room blackened and twisted and distorted itself.
"I…heh heh" his voice became low and throbbing "...Will ask you...once more..."
Stanley quivered.
"Where…. Did you go?"
Stanley fought to find words, only choking.
"WELL?!"
"I don't know! I just passed out! And then I-I was dreaming about-about nothing- a-and…." Stanley didn't know what else to say. She was just as much at a loss as he was.
The Narrator didn't respond.
There was only silence.
Slowly, the spikes began shrinking back into the walls, the room untangled itself and light began to return to the room.
Stanley sat on the floor, shaken, confused, rooted to the floor.
"N-narrator-r?" She called out to him hesitantly.
There was no response for a few moments.
"I-I'm fine. Everything is fine. Y-you're here. You're back. E-everything- I-is fine…"
"Are y-you sure?"
"Yes. E-everything is fine."
"R-really?"
"Yes."
"B-but-"
"EVERYTHING- e-everything is wonderful. Just. Wonderful."
Stanley shrunk back again at his sudden outburst.
"Well?" He demanded.
"W-what?" Stanley asked, looking up, confused.
"Don't you have a story to play?" he asked impatiently.
"I-" Stanley hesitated "I thought we were going to the for-"
The Narrator cut her off "I think you've been away long enough."
Stanley's mouth clamped shut.
Stanley did not bother to hide her tears as she stood up and exited her office, making her way through the office space.
"Stanley stepped into a room with a set of two open doors….."
Stanley bit her lip and cried harder.