You know exactly where you're headed next. You can remember seeing a Stanley figurine in the room with all the boxes. The Narrator doesn't say much and when he does speak he sounds so defeated, as he halfheartedly tries to get you to go to the proper ending.
You swing your bucket as you walk and than you jump down onto a platform and walk across some sketchy looking planks to get to the figurine.
"And there it is! The last Stiggley-Wiggley!"
"That is not what we're calling them."
"Savor this moment, (Y/N). This is a real accomplishment. This is doing something just for the sake of doing it. Where so many people expect to be rewarded for the most trivial achievements, you've insisted that a job well done is it's own reward! I would tell you that I'm proud of you for collecting them all, but that would be like a reward, and we can't have that. So instead, I'll just say; it's done! We're all done here! And now we can go to whatever the hell you were doing before you hunted for figurines."
"Being done is good feeling." You say. You turn and see a vent of some kind, it looks like your only way out.
You drop down and when you hit the floor the bucket slips from your hand, you too shocked by what your seeing to really care. You walk passed all the tapes scattered on the ground and up to a cassette player. You press play.
"Okay, this is day number 295, tape number... I don't even know, I've lost track. Nothing feels real anymore. The longer I study this bucket the less sense anything makes. The sheer euphoria I feel every time I pick it up, no matter how many times I've done it, it's always the same feeling and the emptiness in my chest when I set it down. It doesn't make sense! There's no explanation for it! I still haven't figured out why I see the world so differently when this bucket is in my arms. Why everything feels so... What do I do with this treasure? I can... I can monetize it. Yes... It's unthinkable the amounts of money people will pay for even just an hour with the bucket. This is my golden ticket but I have to be careful, because as soon as this gets out there's going to be a target on my back. Even now, I don't know who might be trying to get -" A noise comes from the tape, it doesn't sound normal and a horrible feeling washes over you. "What's that? Who's there?" After a second the man on the tape whispers in horror. "Gambhorra'ta..."
The tape cuts and you feel uneasy. He described exactly how you felt when around the bucket. The feeling that you're being watched comes over you. You spin around and the bucket is on one of the steps, like it was peaking over at you. Your blood runs cold and than you wake up at your computer.
You don't get far before a fake wall stops you. "(Y/N), I’m sorry, but I have to put a pause on things. It’s just - it’s those figurines. Those Figleys. I haven’t stopped thinking about them since you nabbed every last one. Wasn’t it just the most intrinsically fulfilling moment of your entire life? Didn’t it fill you to the brim with inner richness? Yes I know. We’re supposed to be telling a story but won’t you please indulge me with one more trip back to the Memory zone?BI would love nothing more than to revisit the figurines. Just one more time."
The mention of the memory zone makes you pause. The feeling of helplessness and truly being alone comes back to you. Flashes of the desert. You sigh anyway.
"Alright." You say.
Than before you know it you're reliving your memories collecting all the figurines several times over and being confused by the random pink room. You feel a little bad as once again it seems memories are driving the narrator into a madness but you keep playing along.
"This is it! The very first one we found. In the exhibit where I introduced you to the Figlurines."
"Yes. I think that's a good place to end. Where we began. Poetic I think."
"Oh, I want more memories, (Y/N)! I want to keep going! What else is there? What came before this?"
"Nothing that was the first Stanlurine." Despite this you sigh and keep walking until you come to the jump circle.
"Look, it’s the terrible new content that we were originally sold on. I remember hating it back then, but time does put a rosy filter on everything. In fact, I dare say I’m actually quite fond of it now. Look how much fun the past is! I want more! More memories!"
"Narrator... Stop." You keep walking though.
"Oh yes! The two doors! Who could have forgotten that? A classic memory, this one. And before everything else, there was your office."
"The very beginning." You say. There's a very long pause before The Narrator speaks again.
"Is there anything else? Was there something that came before your office? There’s something I feel I can remember… I can remember… I can remember…"
"Narrator. Stop." You say. "You can't even remember all the endings we've been through. I can't remember anything before the office. Why would you?"
"No hang on... I'm remembering something now. I remember before this whole story got started. Back then, I was... I was different; I used to make big decisions, I was passionate! I was sceptical! I weighed each decision with profound thoughtfulness. And then, somewhere along the way, I stopped making decisions."
"What?"
"Than I was here, and I was alone so I came up with—well—I came up with a character named Stanley, to do my thinking for me. He would make the decisions, he would decide which way to go, I would cheer him on as he did dumb things for no reason. Why did I invent Stanley? Was I lonely?"
"Than what am I? If you created Stanley?"
The Narrator ignored you "Yes, perhaps that's it. Perhaps I needed to imagine I had companionship. And Stanley really did make for a wonderful companion, even if he was a fiction. But—ahh, than there was you. I don't even know where you came in (Y/N). You don't feel fictional. You feel real and you make all these decisions for me..."
He pauses for awhile. "Narrator?"
"I-I want to think for myself again. I want to go back to how it used to be. Yes, I can be on my own again. I can do it! I'll be stronger this time. I'll take care of myself. I don't need Stanley anymore. Oh, but he truly was so much fun to play with!"
"What about me?" You ask. "Narrator?"
"You know what? Since we're in the Memory Zone, how about one more good memory? Let's go back, just once, and give (Y/N) one more run of the office! And then, I'll retire all this for good. I did enjoy telling a story—so very much. Okay, here we go. This is the story of someone named (Y/N)."
(1221 Words)