Another day means another chapter for The Stanley Parable: GAMEUSERUNKNOWN. I appreciate you all who decided to follow the story for another. It really means a lot! As always, I do not own anything of "The Stanley Parable" except for this story and main character, and it is within fair use.
Enjoy!
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"This is a story about a person named Ishmael."
Music started to play after The Narrator spoke, setting the mood for the story.
"Ishmael worked for-...well no one actually, I don't know what they do, but they're currently inhabiting employee number 427's office, or rather Stanley as we all know him."
An office room then spawned in the middle of a sort of void. It had a standard desk with the number '427' on the side of it in yellow with Ishmael sitting down, facing an old computer typing specific characters and keys...but then stopped when they realized where they were.
"...wait what?" Ishmael looked around confused. "Wasn't I just-"
The Narrator continues to speak. "They seemed to of somehow taken Stanley's place, most likely an error of some sort considering they've never been here before-"
And already, Ishmael headed out of the office, interrupting the music that was playing moments ago, heading straight to where they left off.
"Wha-Hey! You're not supposed to leave yet!" He shouted. "At least let me finish-!"
"Look, there's no need to repeat yourself." Ishmael rolled their eyes as they stopped in the middle of the hallway. "Just skip to the part where we, or rather I, start looking around for how I got here in the first place."
Ishmael could hear a low grumble from The Narrator, which brought a small grin on their face. It seems he has a little bit of a short temper.
"Fine. Ishmael, still in confusion, decided to look around the meeting room for any clues..." He directed in monotone, in which Ishmael immediately went to once he was done.
However, there was one little issue already put in front of them. A room with two separate doors, one on the left and one on the right. Which way is the right way?
"Wanting to find answers as soon as possible, Ishmael went and took the door on their left." The Narrator instructed.
"You know I'm not a child. You could have just directed me to it." Ishmael grumbled as they walked to the very door.
Once they made it, they could see that just like the office, it was empty. All except for some scattered papers and files with a looping slide show on how not to get fired. Quite the setup.
"...there's really no one here..." Ishmael spoke to themselves as they looked through the papers. Much like the others, they were either blank or strangely blurry. How does this company even function with all this?
"No names, no viable information, hell not even accurate graphs!" They threw the papers in their hand back on the table, making them scatter.
"Now, there's no need to be all upset about it. Just focus on what really matters." The Narrator tried to sound encouraging, but it sounded condescending. "Bringing Stanley back where he belongs."
"...and getting me home...right?" Ishmael added.
"Sure. That, too."
Ishmael rolled their eyes again and continued the search, leaving the meeting room and heading to yet again another hallway. Only this time, it was pretty short, leading up to a flight of stairs going both up and down to where they're standing.
"Where does this lead to?" They asked. "I'm assuming since this is an office building, higher up will lead us straight to the main boss...if they're actually here, that is..."
"Yes, it should take you straight to the boss's office." The Narrator answered. "Just keep heading up, and hopefully, we'll be closer to getting some answers."
Up the stairs Ishmael went, the steps echoing each time. They sounded a bit hasty considering their mood, which is understandable. Being taken to a strange building with a disembodied voice seems like a nightmare.
...wonder what's that like.
"...You know, and don't take this the wrong way, but you're much more efficient than Stanley was when he first came to this point." The Narrator commented. "Granted, you've spent a good few minutes going through unreadable paperwork and monitors that lead to nothing, but Stanley would of been pressing every button, doorknob, pretty much everything within his range of sight."
Ishmael paused, just a foot away from the door and looks up at the direction of the voice. "Well, maybe because I actually want to get out of here and back home where I belong."
They turn the knob and swing the door open to reveal the reception room. Seems weirdly red and almost out of place. "The way you described this Stanley guy sounds like a wet blanket, or maybe a pawn.."
The Narrator lightly gasped, seemingly offended. "How dare you?! First of all, Stanley also wants to leave this place! That's the whole point! But we don't know where he is or even if he's safe and-...wait where did you go?"
There was a flushing sound and a sink running for a minute on the left side of the wall until Ishmael came out what looked to be a bathroom. They needed privacy.
"Hm? Oh, sorry, needed to piss." They said with lack of care for the conversation. "What were you saying? Something about Stanley? I'm sure wherever he turned out, he's perfectly fine."
"And how exactly would you know that? Where were you before coming here?" The Narrator asked rather harsh.
"Simple, I was heading out to-...to...um..." Ishmael was trying to come up with an answer but was stammering. What were they doing before coming here? "I-I was...heading home! Yeah, I was heading home!"
"And where's that exactly?" He asked again, which Ishmael gulped.
"Y-You know...some...place..." They were trying to stall the question, but this is honestly freaking them out. Surely, they do have a home, right? They had to of come from somewhere, they at least know their name so they should know where they're from!
Ishmael kept walking forward to the large door to the boss's office, but that question kept nagging at them. They weren't even paying attention to The Narrator's pointless guide. They just kept staring at the door, longingly.
Where did they come from?
How did they get here?
Is Stanley safe? Why should they care?
Who even is Stanley, who's the narrator guy that's talking to them?
Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? W̷͉͗h̴͎̔o̶̜̾ ̷̜͑ą̴͝r̸͙̚ė̵͙ ̵̹̈́y̶̧̆ŏ̶̯ù̴̬?̶̰͝ ̶̭̋W̴̯̒h̴̤̒o̷̯̒ ̴̹̈ä̵́͜r̴͊ͅé̸̘ ̴̥̈y̸̠͒ô̸͜ù̶̟?̸̨̋ ̵̺̔W̴̟̐ḥ̵́o̴͙̽ ̴͓͗à̷̖r̵̰͒ḙ̷͝ ̴̰̈́y̸̜͐ó̸̲u̷͖̔?̷̯̑ ̷͚͐W̴̛̭h̷̯̎o̸̱͒ ̴͔̂a̴̭̅r̵̤̔e̷̛͚ ̴͉̿y̷͙̕o̴̘̔u̷̖̅?̴̲̒ ̷͖͘W̸̥̔h̴̹̄o̸̳̒ ̷̢͂ȃ̵͚r̵̝̈́e̶̲̾ ̶͙̌y̸̧̚o̶̰͛u̵̱̐?̷͓͗ ̶͓͒W̸̝̃h̶͚̾o̴̲͝ ̴̲̚a̵̩͌ȑ̸̢è̴̬ ̴͕̿y̶͈͗o̷͕͘u̵͖͐?̴̻͒ ̴͕̀W̵͔̅h̴̟̾ó̴̟ ̷̤͑a̷̠̓r̶̳͌e̵̜̐ ̵̫̊y̵̦̌ô̸̰u̶̦̓?̵̜̃ ̴͕̍W̴͍̊h̴͍̒o̶̘͑ ̷̬̃a̸͓͝r̵̞̍e̵͇̽ ̶͔̓y̷͕̒o̵̳͐u̷̻̿?̷́W̴̡̢̼̱͖͎͖͇̻͛ḩ̸̰̥̫͖̙̩̙̈̑́̏̓ͅö̵̟̜̩̗́̓̈́͌͠͠ ̴̣̘͕̎̾͆̆͗̇̀̈́ͅȃ̶͓̙̰̗̗ȓ̵̛̭̓̀̓̀͆͝e̴͉͙͊͛͊ ̴̛̥̱͈̩̘̉̈̀̔͗̆̆͂͠y̵̯͔̩̹͎̗͛̓̅͑̀͑̃̈̽̍ơ̸̧̨͉͍̱̇́͋̑͋͠ṵ̸̮̯̖̝͊͗̈́͋͒̈̎?̸̨̧̨̢̝̩͓̼̞͗͗͊͗̔̉̀̑͝ͅ ̴͕̩̔̆͐̍̈̈́̃͘W̸̺͎͇̃̓̌̒̂ȟ̴͎̮̖͚̰̞̲͗̆̈́͐͜͠ͅơ̸̟̺̬̲͚̗͌̃̀̋̊͋͒͝ ̶̖̯͎̰̺͕̙̙̘̐̎̕͝à̵̳̳̙͖̹̿͐̌̌̑r̶͔̞̫̥̃̆̄̐̕ę̶͕̰̮͉̘̽̚ ̴̥̦͚̆̀̑͛͋̀̀͘y̷̦͙͙̾õ̸͖̦͋͗̈́̓̈́̀̌̚͜͝ṵ̶̫̼̦̫̲͙͚̍̚?̶͉̩̞̜̘͒̀̂̈́͛̕̕̕ ̷̨̰̮̥͙͕̻̺̾͗̽̄͐̊Ŵ̵̨̦̹̋͒̈́͘h̷͈̳͎̦̜͐̽̑̎ͅo̵̙̦͒ ̴̢̨͇̟̥̔̇̑͛̀̾̈͗̉a̴̧̧̢͈̜̫̝̙͚̤͆̎ṛ̴̨̧̞̀̓̅̂̾ͅe̶̢̗̳̘̭̼̺̾̊̈́̅̾͋̽ ̸̧̛͎̈̀̽ȳ̷̧̳͔̞̪̜͈͖͓̰̍̾̾̓͊͒̆͝o̷̧̗͐u̶̦̰̠̲͍͑̆̀̍͂́̕?̵̛̬̝͍̘͔̯̩͇̺̒͐̐̎͗̃ ̴̨̫̪̠͇͉͈̼̼̿́̓̓̆̕ͅW̵̡̧̨̬̼̝̺͍̌̆̿͗̐̕h̶̡̤͓̩̟̼̕o̵̫̼̻̊̉̀͝ ̴̛͓̞̘̔̑̐̈́̍̔̐a̴̢̦͔͙͚͙̔́̈́r̶̟̥̄̏ͅē̷͇͎͚̜̣̘̽̾̾͑̌ ̴̥̫͊̕ỳ̶̥̭̎͂̋ǫ̶̺̙̘̠̮̫̖̤͓̈́̑̌͒̋̚̕u̶̢̢͈̱̬̒̏̊̌͗͗̕͝?̶̧̛͖͇̪̻̓̈̌͊̿͘̚͝ ̷̨̧͚͕̣̣͓̝̪̂̓͑̍͜W̸̻̝̼͌̐̈́́̊̾͝ͅh̵̬̏͐̓͝o̶̟̠̤̎ ̸̼̪̘͗̋́̂̋̅͑͘͝a̸̯͓̮̟̟͆̄̚̚ŗ̴̬̦͕͓̦͍̌͗̌́́̋̓̎͝ę̴͍̩͙̳͙̓̑͜ ̵͉͈͔̫̈͗̉̎͝ý̵̠͛̈́͐͑̈͑́̋o̶̢̥̊̈́͋̈́̓̋͋ǔ̵͇̰͍̞̜̤͓͆͂̽̒́͂͑?̵̱̞̽̎ ̷̧̻̐͛͛̂͐̽̆̂̓͌W̸̖͓̠͎̥̹̝͔͑̈́͊̏͜͝h̵̡̡̧̲̩̭͙̤̦́̓͗͘͜o̷̗͇̖͇̥̿ ̶̲̮̪̈͒̓̿͋̿͂̄̚ͅa̴̢͕̻̭̱͚̩̼̿͋̽̎̓̽͋̑̿̐r̴̤͐̋͗̐̽̏̐͘ẻ̷̜̤̖̒̒͗̈́̃̋͠͠͠ ̶̢̨̣͇̝̳͔̤̺̗͗͆̀͐͋͛̒́y̵̻̭̆͛ͅó̷̧͚͈́̋͗͗̉́͋̚u̴͙̓͒̌?̷͓̙̩̮̼̱̜̱̺̀̎͛̆̾̅̓ ̷̛͎͔̹̉̓́̌̊͒̿̚W̸̡̜̥͖͉̊̀h̵̛͓̄͊͑͘͝͠ȍ̴̳̜̳͉͍̹̆̿͋͝͝ ̷͓͖̜͕̖̫̈́͝ã̴͉͖̣͂r̴̯͇̥̩̓̐e̵̢̧̞̜̪̫͖͍̫̊͒̈́̓ ̵̨̨̧̫́̕ͅy̸̨̬̪̌̄̓͆̐͠ò̸̧͔̎́̂͐͌̊͛̅ͅủ̶̜̋̋͘ͅ?̴͍̜̿̄̋̌̑ ̵̢̳̬̄̊͝W̶̢̟͓̬̭̜̥͇͒͑͜h̷͇͔͖̉o̶͙̭̠̳͎͕͗͋̾̂̄̒̈́͝ ̶̯͍̝͈̣̣̻̫͒a̴̦̺̅̌͗̄̈́͆͆͋͑̚ř̴̥͉̟̮̫̗̘e̵̥̻̘͉͔͎̳̦̔̄̕ ̸̛̘̱̦͇͂̂̒y̶͚̫͊͘o̶̟̯̞̜̩͉̐̎̈́̂͊̈́͐̀͠ͅu̵̳̱̻͑̍̔̂͆̅̽͋̇?̶̢͚̩͎͙̘̽̓̌̓̾̂
"ISHMAEL!"
The Narrator's voice snapped Ishmael back to reality, seemingly in a cold sweat. They looked around and saw they hadn't moved past the door. They could still hear their heart pounding as they try to ease their breathing.
"...sorry..." Ishmael said quietly. "L-Let's just keep moving.." They open the door, not even bothered that there's no one in here.
The Narrator was quiet for a minute as Ishmael looked around. If they don't even know where they're from, then how did they take Stanley's place? Perhaps they're a placeholder, someone that's not meant to exist in the first place, but rather a temporary solution until Stanley returns.
But what reason could it be for him to be replaced? Hopefully, there's a solution to all this, and things can return back to the way it was.
Without this little bug.
"Hey, Narrator guy." Ishmael spoke. "There's a keypad here. Is it for a door or something here?" They were pointing at the said keypad that was behind the boss's desk on the wall.
"Hm? Oh, yes, there is." The Narrator answered. "Usually, I would be saying how there's no one here, and we've pretty much hit a dead end, but then I'll say the code nonchalantly so you can open the door."
"...which is?"
There was a moment of silence from The Narrator, supposedly waiting for something, or rather someone, to say something else.
"...uugghh...FINE!" Ishmael groaned in annoyance. "I'll play along with your little game if it'll make you feel better. I'll play as your little Stanley until we find the real one."
There was a subtle contempt chuckle from The Narrator. If only they could see the shit eating smirk he's giving poor Ishmael for finally giving in.
"Filled with such doubt, Ishmael couldn't figure out the boss's deepest secret." The Narrator spoke in narration again. "What they could find, though, was a keypad against the wall, but it needed a number code to unveil what dark secrets the boss could be hiding."
Ishmael crossed their arms, waiting for The Narrator to give them the code. Of course, it may be a while with how much he's milking time to say this hot garbage.
"What they could not of known was that the keypad behind the bosses desk guarded the terrible truth that the boss had been keeping from Ishmael. And so the boss assigned it on an extra secret pin number."
Ishmael quickly positioned their hand to the keypad, impatiently waiting for The Narrator to say the pin number. Just say it. It's just four numbers. Just say the damn numbers!
"3-6-9-1"
They quickly typed it in, but was met with a red screen error, indicating that the code was wrong, which mildly pissed off poor Ishmael.
"...which was last week's pin number. As it turns out, the boss changes them once a week so that there's less of a chance to break into the truth." There was a humorous tone in how The Narrator spoke. "So, this week's pin numbers were 2-8-4-5."
Ishmael sighed to themself, they're not going to get angry, they won't let this get to them. Just breathe and keep moving eventually typed the correct pin number, alerting a different sound with a green light instead of red, and the large bookshelf that was on the right side of the wall split in two to reveal an entrance.
"Oh wow, a secret entrance..." Ishmael said with a little sarcasm. "Who would have thought? Definitely didn't see this coming.."
They walk in, shielding their eyes since there was a bright light inside. It looked to be a stage light? Why on earth is there a stage light in a secret entrance?
...well a company building shouldn't have a secret entrance in the first place, but who are we to judge?
Ishmael continued walking around, hopefully to find some sort of entrance, and thankfully, there was an elevator ready to use! How lucky! So they went ahead and walk in it, immediately pressing the red button to go down.
A light bulb lit up once the doors were shut, slowly descending to the unknown. Hopefully the answer to all their problems.
However, as the elevator kept going, Ishmael still pondered the Narrator's question from before. Where exactly was Ishmael going before ending up here? Surely, they had a home...
Wait no HAVE! They HAVE a home out there! Yeah! They definitely have a home out there, and Stanley is most definitely safe wherever he is...right? Because they're a real person, a person with thoughts, feelings, a home, a family...friends...? They have friends...like...there's that one...person. They were their neighbor, right? Right next door...or...n-no they were a work buddy...what was their name again..?
Descending deeper into the building, Ishmael was so deep their thoughts that they didn't realize the Narrator was talking. Something about how they're supposed to feel 'peculiar' about themself being here and how this never occurred.
This question would not go unanswered for long.
"This question would not go unanswered for long."
The Narrator lightly stammered the last word, puzzled about something. Either he's going mad, or he could have sworn he heard a second voice. Was it Ishmael? No, they don't seem to be paying attention as usual, let alone speaking along with him. Well, it doesn't matter anyhow, they're both close to the end which should bring things back to normal.
No more mishaps, no more errors, no more surprises, and best of all.
No more Ishmael.
Eventually, the elevator roughly stopped in a dark corridor with pipes, some that seem to let out some steam every now and then. Ishmael just barely noticed when they realized how dark it was, and once they took the first step out, a loose wire sparked, making them jump for a moment.
"Fucking-! Ugghh...this is ridiculous...utterly ridiculous!" They shouted with an echo. "It feels like we're going nowhere! What kind of office building has shit like this?!" Despite their anger, Ishmael continued walking until they reached another stopping point. A light flickered on to bring focus to an entrace reading 'Mind Control Facility.'
"...what the fuck is that?" They pointed at.
"The Mind Control Facility." The Narrator answered unphased. "Stan-...you're supposed to go inside there-"
"So he IS a pawn!! Like all the other employees that used to work here!" Ishmael accused. "This is some trap, right? You're gonna lead me to some freaky lab in there with the others...I don't know, in tanks?!"
"What? No, it's nothing like that!" He denied. "It's just a room with multiple screens! Which frankley, you should be going in as part of the story-!"
"Oh yeah, that makes it sound SO much better!" Ishmael said with strong sarcasm as they headed to the doors. "Let's just get this over with so I can get out of here." They swung the doors open with not much care and kept walking straight.
Already, they see a light ahead to what looks to be a button, so with not much else to really do, Ishmael goes and presses it. Small sparks fly again, making Ishmael jump a little, but keep themselves calm while whatever they press turns on.
"The lights rose on an enormous room packed with teleision screens." The Narrator continued as those said lights appeared. "What horrible secret did this place hold?"
"Oh, it's definitely something you're hiding, but I think I'll offend someone if I say it..." Ishmael muttered, which the Narrator ignored.
"...Did they have the strength to find out?" Once that line was finished, a gate on the right opened to lead to another platform. Ishmael was still skeptical about this room but continued on across. Not like they have a choice anyway. At this point, it doesn't matter.
There, another button was on display, this time with an image of a security camera. Must be how they turn on...though why of all things, it had to be a massive button? Really odd design choice.
Ishmael pressed it, again sparks fly for a moment, and all the screens lit up, finally putting more light in this massive room. Each one appears to have a certain number, flicks to a certain cubical or office space in the building, then back to the number.
There were so many...its sickening...they just want this over with, and never come back.
"Now the monitors jumped to life, their true nature revealed. Each bore the number of an employee in the building - Stanley's coworkers." While the Narrator spoke, Ishmael was curuious if they could see the office they turned out in. Which was it again? 4...45..? No, it was 427!
"The lives of so many individuals reduced to images in a screen, and to Ishmael's horror, Stanley was one of them eternally monitored in this place where freedom meant nothing."
"Ah, so you admit it. Not jusy Stanley, but everyone here is a pawn." They rolled their eyes a little as they continued looking for the screen 427. "Oh! There's...the...wait..."
Leaning a little on the rails, Ishmael attempted to get a closer look at the screen. There was something, or rather, someone typing away on the very same keyboard on the very same computer in the very same office space they were in.
But that can't be right. There wasn't anyone before at either of the times Ishmael was spawned back. So how is there a person now? Perhaps a pre recording? Old feed? No, that wouldn't make any sense, but why the hell-
There was a hard 'ahem' heard from our favorite Narrartor. "Ishmael, as much as I would also love to stare at pointless screens all day and figure out every tiny detail about them, we do have a task at hand?"
"B-But there's a person in 427! He's right-" Just from that split distraction, the humanoid was gone. Like he was never there. "...there? No...no there was definitely someone there, I'm sure of it! We have to go back!"
"Go back? Out of the question! Not when we're so close to our ending-"
"I don't CARE about your stupid ending! What the hell does that even mean?! You said you wanted to find Stanley, right?! So obviously, that was a clue of some kind!" Ishmael tries going back through the same path, but now there's a closed gate, and it's locked. "What the...come on...come on!!!"
They yanked, and yanked, and yanked, but the gate didn't budge. They even try throwing a random chair! Not a scratch. "Are you done?" Narrator asked passive aggressively. "Because I personally believe we can get through this much faster if you'd just listen. You were fine before you started acting like a child."
There was a moment of silence, Ishmael was still holding onto the gate, looking down on the floor. They know they saw someone, they're not crazy, he's just not listening, but he won't listen if you don't calm down. If any progress is to be made, you have to work with the Narrator, not against him. You won't like it, but you don't have a choice either in this.
Ishmael let's go, heading back to the task at hand, and walks to the next platform, awaiting for the Narrator to continue his pointless dribble.
"Good, now, where were we?" There was a subtle sound of pages being flipped until the Narrator cleared his throat. "Could Stanley really been under someone's control all this time? Was this the only reason he was so happy with his boring job? That his emotions had been manipulated to accept it blindly?"
The button for the elevator was pressed as he told his lines, as it decends down to the final way out of this hell hole, and once finished, Ishmael walked into it and shut the small gate as they rose back up.
"No! Ishmael refused to believe it. They couldn't accept it. Those lives in someone else's control? Never! It was unthinkable, wasn't it? Was it even possible? Had they all spent their entire lives utterly blind to the world?"
As the elevator goes higher and higher, Ishmael slowly couldn't see as it grew dark. Just what fresh hell awaits them?
It stops at a hault, the first thing in view were buttons on a table with computera, a massive monitor against the wall. It was still dark but not nearly as impossible to see without caution in mind. They opened the gate and walked out as they looked around. So many more buttons were around on more computer screen.
"But here was the proof. The heart of the operation." the Narrator continued. "Controls labeled with emotions: 'happy,' or 'sad,' or 'content.' Walking, eating, working; all of it monitored and commanded from this very place."
Ishmael walke over to the vaccant computers, at least somewhat still curious about this place despite all that has happened. They all say 'Mind Control Status: Offline' with the word offline in a harsh red. How fitting.
"And as the cold reality of the past began to sink in, Ishmael 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."
They silently rolled their eyes, the script sounded so corny and unimaginative, but he's not exactly wrong either. Once they shut this building down, everyone including Stanley will finally be free.
Soon enough, Ishmael found the room to where the main controls are, which conveniently said 'Facility Power.' These rooms are so obvious, a child could find these rooms no problem without a map. What moron thought to put these kinds of signs?
They were once again greeted by a massive monitor, possibly the biggest one yet as big as a footall stadium monitor. There was text on the screen reading 'MIND CONTROLS IDLE AWATING INPUT.'
"Gee, I wonder if this is where I shut it down.." Ishmael once again with as much sarcasm in their voice as they approached. "This is so overwhelming to figure out, how can a simple-minded person like me save everyone from such a terrible-"
They look to see two very obviously big buttons with one saying 'OFF,' and the other saying 'ON' on a setup that just says 'System Power.'
This...this is just pathetic. Truly pathetic. How the hell did this phony company gather so many people with just a push of a button?!
"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 spoke. "And in hopes, to bring Stanley back home as well. Everyone can finally be free."
Ishmael focused more on the buttons, frustrated, exhausted, so many things still boggled their mind. If this does work, and they shut everything down, will they also be able to go home? Wherever that home even is? Surley, it's that easy, right?
...But what if it's not? What if you're just stuck here forever, unable to return back from once you came? If you turn the controls back on, you can overcome the Narrator, end his mockery on you, and rid the world of this ridiculous phony company! Do it, Ishmael, press it, press it, press it, press it, press it, PRESS IT-
The power goes out, Ishmael pressed the off button. The entire room goes black.
"Okay...this is where it happened, blackness. And a rising chill of uncertainty." the Narrator spoke low. "Was it over?"
A moment of silence hit, not a single sound...until the ground started to rumble. A long shine of light emerged above Ishmael.
"Y-Yes! They have won! They defeated the machine, unshackled themselves from someone else's command. Freedom was mere moments away!"
The door continues to lower, slowly brighting the room, and the sounds of birds chirping were heard from the other side. It sounded...nice...
"And yet, even as the immense door slowly opened, Ishmael reflected on how many puzzles still lay unsolved. Where had Stanley's coworkers gone? Why did they switch places with him? Was there some sort of connection between them-"
"It doesn't matter now, I just want to go home!" Ishmael shouted. "You keep going on and on about Stanley, and the one time I actually saw a clue, you brushed me off like a dog!"
"Oh there you go again with the complaining and such." the Narrator groaned. "You know, I'm really trying to work with you here, having to improvise my script with you in mind. Having a little twist in the dialog, but clearly, you just don't care! Even at the beginning, you didn't care about Stanley!"
"Maybe it's because you keep comparing me to him! I don't even know who the hell Stanley is!" Ishmael barked back. "Oh Stanley would of done this, Stanley usually doesn't talk over me! Stanley, Stanley, Stanley, FUCKING STANLEY!!!"
As the two bickered, the door was fully open, shining ever so brightly to show the outside. The lush of grass, the trees, that smell of fresh air filling their lungs. This was the real taste of freedom, and it was just a walk away.
Ishmael finally noticed, looking towards that very view, and immediately bolted.
"H-Hey! Wait a minute, don't go-!" the Narrator tries to warn them, but they dont slow down.
"I'm not wasting another minute with you, Narrator, I'm getting out of here! Have fun finding your Stan-" BONK! "Gah-!!" Ishmael fell back, holding their now possibly broken nose. Did they somehow hit a wall?
"...so it's still there...I was hoping it wasn't..."
They slowly stood up, still confused about what just happened as they looked outside again. There isn't a wall, so why did-...wait still there? Ishmael slowly approached, raising their hand until...they felt a surface. An invible wall was between them and the outside world. Why.
Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. W̷h̵y̵.̴ ̷W̴h̴y̴.̸ ̶W̵h̴y̶.̷ ̶W̷h̷y̶.̴ ̶W̵h̸y̶.̵ ̴W̶h̴y̴.̵ ̷W̸h̵y̴.̴ ̶W̷̻̻͊̄̆͝ḫ̷̡̡̘̜̳̍͆̓͜y̵̭̟͚̮̤͍̔̃.̴̱̜͚͂͋̾̐͠ ̸̢͙̣̹͕͙͐̀̄́Ẁ̴̺ḧ̸̞́̋̈̚y̵͈͉̭̼̙͠.̵̣͉̥̑͗̋̇͗̽͝ ̶̡͔͖̤̲̔̈W̸̻͒̑ḧ̸̟̙̏̃̓y̷̺̼̾.̶͚̿̇͘͝ ̴̝̜̍̚͠͝W̸͇̮͝͠ͅh̷̯̠͆̃̈́͊y̶̞̏̆̂̆.̵̧̛̳͚̽̉̇ ̶̢͙̼̜̹̥̀̿W̴̗͖̝͇͇͕̻̎̊h̷̖̝͍͔̮͊͛͆̈́̉̚ͅͅy̸̺͍̞̏̍̒̂̀͝͝.̴̢̘͎̪̓͌ ̸̭͛͐ͅW̸̡̢̜̞͖̺͈͊̕h̵̯̩͊́y̵̛̘͖̮̘̜̓.̶̧͓̖̦͍̞̳͗ ̸̨͕̝̓̀̆̅͜ͅͅW̶̺̣̰̤̭̹̼͊̊̀̒̾̈́́h̶̢̟̫̤̜͒̀y̴̦̝͙̰͎̑̎̚͝͝.̴̛̭̺̒̚ ̸͖͚̪̟͈̔͠Ẁ̵̢̞͔̟̳̫͉͓̦̫̜̋̄̌̋̚͝ͅH̷̨̰̣̲͇͗̆̃̎̈́̈̋͠ͅY̷̡̨̛̙̙̹̪̲̲̻͚͗̓̈́́̇̔͌͐̾͂̏̐̍̕̕.̴̢̨̛̻͕͚̗̰̘̟̦̩̳̞̗̳͝͠͝ͅ ̵͈͕̘̭͕͝ͅͅW̶̨̲̃̊H̸̻͎͎͇͔̀̆̈́̾̀̏Ȳ̶̨̛̰̻̘̪̪͓̫͔̭͓̖̥̩̻̌̉̄̑͒̌̍́̕͘͘̕.̴̬̺̰͓̙͇̲̖̲̒̈́͆̐̊̋̅ͅ ̸̨̛͖͒̆̆̽̓͂̏͑̂͐̔͂͝͝͝W̶͖͇̹͖̰̺͕̻̖͒͛H̴̛͎͇̪̻̰̉̈͌͊̎̔̇̿Y̴̨̟͇̻̞̬̱̩̙̣̠͚̣̽̃͋͋̆͑̈́̈́͌̉͜͜ͅ.̶̨͎̝̗̝͍̻͕͉̜̦̘͓͙̑͋̽̐͋̔͐̽̆ͅ ̴͙̣͗̓̌̃̄́͗̒̏̉̑W̴͈͕̫̻͚̹̠̾̉́͋̍̃͌̒̐͜͝H̴̝͍̤̺̞̮̫̰͉̭̩̩̖̼͙͛̅̑̒̌̾̉̈̑̚Y̵̤̳̪͈̤̻̐̄̎͂̈́̅͜.̵̟͍͉̗͕́͐͒͛͂̍͐͛͊ ̷̬̟̙̦̖̻̰̈́̔W̵̡̨̡̜̣̟̰̄͑̈́̿̍̈́͗̊̋̐̚͠H̴̢͗̿̄̏̅̿̈͒͊́́͜Y̸̧̙̜̫͕̹͇̼̹̼̝̥̌͌̈́̾̊̆̈́̆̌͐̂̎̕͝͝ͅ.̵̰̎̀͐͋͑̈́̅͝ ̵̧͎͖͔̦̟̙̑͋͆̉͆̀̽̅̊̌͝͝Ŵ̸̧̢̛̩̘͉̯͓̣̥͇̙̀̈̂͌͌̚͜Ḣ̶̢̡̬̱͇̼͔̟̫̥͙̦̈͂͜Y̷̢̺̬̦͚͎͇͖͙͈̬͖̍̾̑͊̉̄͘͜͜ͅ.̴̨̡̣̼͙̘͚̺̘̮͈̳͉̘͈̊͗͛̀͘ ̶̢̧͓̮͇̞̲̺͉͓̳̘̜́W̷̡͖̻͖̹̹̭̞͗̈́̒̈́̾͘͜͝H̶̛̛̳̞̹̗̦͓̪͓̮̘̝͇͒̊̚ͅY̷̢͇͔͓̌͐̿́͘͝.̵̲̂̎̉̑͘W̸̢̨̡̫̲̻̗̭͉͎̟͙̙̺̬͓̻̞̿̍̅̏̏̉H̸̢̧͚͙͇͉̳̯̖̼͎͐͋̔̓̎͑́̌̋̓͒̚͝͝Y̶̡̢̼͈̱͕͈͕̳̞̗̲͓̹̭͚̬͍͈̾͗ͅ.̵͚̗͈̦͔̟̳͑̈́͆͆̅̈́̆̇̈́̐̐̄̔͑̂̔̒̽ ̸̨̢͈̫͔̤͈͔͎͍̫̹̜̹͍̣̟̰̪͙̅̎̽̾͛̌̽̈́̅͂͆͗̕̕̕͝͝W̶̢̡̨̟̬̩̯͚̗̫̤̜͓͎̩͕̩̩͕̻̓͋̿́̽̇̓͗̂̊̔̍͂̋̽͋̽̌̈͜͝͠ͅͅH̵̺͕̥̹̲̋̽̔͛̐̈́͂̽͐̓Y̴̢̨̦̫̥̹̰̱̬̘̰̪̣̺̲̜̳͑͘.̸̡͎̼͓͚̼͉͔͚͕̻̞͚̟̤͈̜̲͇̠͓̫͈̜̪͉̮̋̓̈́͜ ̷̧̡̥̼̖̯̣͓͖̫̺̪̘͈͎̲̳̳̲͉̱̯̜̲̳͊̂̓̏̅̌̾͜ͅW̶̭̱͌̆̈́͌ͅH̴͙̱͂̐̏̒̈́͆̇̓͛̕͝͝Y̴̨͖͔̻̹͍̩̜̫͚̘̮̿̍̄̏̓̔͂͆̃͐̇̽͌̆̃̏̅̓̋̍̐̚̕.̵̧̢̨̛̦͔̠̺̙̼̞̙͈͔̲̘̼͂͑͆̀̊́̔̾̋̀̈́̓͛̐͘͜͠͠͠ ̴̢̨̹͙̻͇̦̮̼̹̺̱̭͙̭̠̪̼̣̞̟̲͇̗̳̑̀͛̐̓̀̂̓͂͆̾̇̃̊̓̚͝͝͝ͅW̷̤͚̫͍̭͙̤̬͕͎̜͉̬̞̖̤͌̈́̿̋̈̒̀͌̎̽̕͠Ḩ̷̨͉̪̠̳̞͙̫̥̘͎̳͙̝̳͍̘̖̦͐̽͐̐͆̃̋̆̏̇̊̈́̕͜͠ͅY̸̨̛̩̬̜̞̝̪̘̞͇̍͛͊̌͆̃̚.̸̪̺̩̬͓̙̣͔͖̬̥̱̖̪͚̣̙̲̣͎̫̙̙̟̈͆̒̄̽̆͑̄̓̇͂̾͆͐͛̓̿̊͌͗̓̋͌̕͘͜͝͠ͅ ̵̨̨̨̨̛͈͍̫̩̜̻̰̙̪̘̤̪͗̇̏̎̓̇̊̎͒͑͛̓͊̚͜W̸̢̩̺̪͕̲̖̜̺̙̯̹̝͖̺̜͖̟̲͊̉̇͑̈̈́̃͜͝ͅH̶̛͖̻͇̰̮̯͍̻̮̦̖͖̦̮̤̯̻̗̙͇̪͍͔͖͈̋̑͋̾͂̏̆͌̌̀̒̎̈͌̆̈́͠͝ͅY̴̧̨̨̛̛̪̺̲̬͙̤̥̘̼͎͈͎͉͖̔͛͆̐̽́̇͆̅̈́͗́̈́̽̚͘͘͝ͅͅ.̸̮̖͈̳͕͙͉̥̱̹̹͇̙́̍ͅ ̴̧̡̧̖̖̲̳̙͇̦̰̫͕͉̝͍̬͉̳̫̳͇̃͂̌̇̋͗̀̿̇̂̿̄̂̽̀͘̚͜͠͠ͅͅW̷̢̘̤̘͈̫͎͙̙̜̞̲̭̗̞̱̭̜̠̾͛̒̅̈́H̵̡̨̛͚̞̗̠͎̺̭̖̤̜̘̝̰́̓̍̆̂̍͜Ỳ̴̨̰͚̫̹̙͇͚̰̹͙̗̘̤̱͈̭̬͇͎̘̗̥̌͛̽͛̉̉̀̋̓̄͊̂̑̈̄̉͗̈́̑̆̚͜͝͝.̷̢̛͓͙̝͇̭̗͎͕̞̭͎̠͈̱̖̖̜̟̽̑ ̵̛̞̯̇̿͂̿͊̓̿̅̈́͆̂̓̐̆͒́̉͝W̸̢̛̗̗̪̬̘̙͙̭͍͍͖̐́̔͌͆͆̈͒̈͂̏̕̚͜͝͝ͅH̸̨̡̡͖̥͙̭̤̙͉̗̥͍̠͙̪̥͈̉̀̋̌̋͐́͂͐̒̐̃̀̓̏̃̔̂͆̅͂͜͝Y̴̛̗̔̂͌̓́́̆̇̌̓̅̋́̾͋́̐̀̄̏̋̂͋̈̕̕͝.̵̻̹̈́̓͛̅̀̌̃͋̂͗̔̍̊͆̔͛̐̀͐̿̎͊̽͒̕͘͝
The world started to shake again, just like before. Ishmael didn't notice or even bothered to notice. The Narrator, however, knew somewhat what's going on, but tries to remain calm.
"I-Ishmael, we have to take cover! Get off that platform-!"
"Did you plan this...was all this just a game to you...?" They said in a low tone. "You really hate me that much...that you'd just toy with me-!?" But before Ishmael could finish, another, much larger rumble occured, causing the platform to break?! How!?
"AHH-!" They lost their footing, nearly falling off, but they held onto the edge, but it wont last long. "N-Narrator! Help!! Make it stop!!"
"I'm not doing this though! I don't know what's causing this!!" the Narrator panicked. "Just-hold on! I'll think of something!!"
The pair continue to scramble about from this dilemma, whatever could the Narrator do to save Ishmael? Are they even worth saving? They only just met after all, so why care about such a little speck? All he really cared about was Stanley. So surely he won't mind if...
The platform breaks more, making it harder for Ishmael to hold on. They practically have one hand on the edge now! Slowly slipping off. Better think of something quick, Narrator, or else you'll lose your only link to Stanley's safety.
Ishmael's hand was slowly slipping, they can't hold on. It's impossible. They can't-
They let go. They accepted their fate. What's the point.
"ISHMAEL!!!" the Narrator's voice echoed as they fell, almost like in slow motion. The view of the outside world goes out of view the further they fall. That once smell of fresh air ecaspes them.
Everything...was for naught.
"...This is a story of a person named Ishmael..."
"WHAT THE FU-?!"
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Aaaaaand that's chapter 2! Sorry it took so long to get this out! Writerw block, work, new ideas, all that! So I hope it was worth the wait!
Stay tuned for chapter 3, whenever that happens!