A Simple Analogy

((Heeeeyy so, Mod here.

It’s been a super long time since updating this askblog, and I’m sure you’re all aware that at this point, this blog is dead. It had to come to this, unfortunately, because now I’m in college! And as all you college-goers know, the assignments that we get here is HELL on time and scheduling.

Now that tumblr is kinda forcing me to pay attention to my blogs (for a little while, with the whole ‘you keeping your url, bro?’ email), I figured I’d take this chance to officially announce a hiatus/closing of this blog.

This means that the ask and submission boxes are closed, and all rps that didn’t have a conclusive ending are finished. I’m sorry if there are some of you that were holding out on the hope that I might come back and participate again after all these years, but I also have to thank you for sticking with us for so long.

I wish good health and good times for you guys! Stay safe, stay awesome.))

There were times when Stanley dozed off while he hid from the Narrator. And when he awoke, he would always be met with the cramped space underneath the desk and a clear view of the Office.

This time was different.

Stanley was, rather suddenly, ripped from the clutches of sleep when he sneezed. Something was tickling his nose a second before, and when he groggily opened his eyes, he found the culprit red-handed.

Her lack of enthusiasm for her self-given purpose didn’t show in her tone; she continued her monologue without a missed beat. “… When every path you can walk has been created long in advance, death becomes meaningless, making life the same. Do you see now? Do you see that Stanley was already dead from the moment he hit ‘Start’?”

Then, she grew silent.

It had been a few minutes, and Stanley hadn’t descended down the stairs. She kept her eyes closed, her mind’s eye focused on the main hall of her museum. Once she had a chance to examine this Stanley in the proper light, it had confirmed her suspicions: this, in fact, was not her Stanley. It was a completely different one.

The third one she had met thus far.

After a few more minutes, she cleared her throat. “I imagine that isn’t the most comfortable place to sit,” the Administrator began with an amused chuckle. “The Museum is yours to explore at your leisure, Stanley. You don’t need to stay there if you don’t wish to.”

Stanley relished the few minutes of quiet solace after the Other Narrator’s line came to a close. Silence. Peaceful, gentle silence. It was rare to find these moments around his Narrator, who always seemed to have something to say about everything. He even tried to engage in small talk whenever Stanley was idle for too long, but those moments were also words restricted to the lines of a script (none of which he readily remembered, but he could certainly recognize a familiar line when it was spoken).

So one could imagine his surprise when he was being spoken to outside of the script.

((please forgive me if this sounds bad ;>; i tried))

“Astrology is a very precise science. We know this.”“Let me get this straight…you want me to come with you…”

—Douglas Adams, The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: Mostly Harmless, pg. 666

——

“Allow me to start by saying that astrology is a very precise science. We know this, yes? Then I cannot help but note that what you’re asking of me is something of the opposite nature.”

The incredulous tone betrayed the fact that he, in fact, understood the request very clearly. His dialogue amounted to nothing more than a verbose version of an “are you kidding me”. He even accentuated that point further by concentrating himself into a humanoid silhouette and giving the Serious Look.

“Let me get this straight.” Said the Narrator, who began to walk toward the person as an apparition outlined by shadows. “You. Want me to come with you.” He stopped. And stood near to a foot away from the stranger’s face. A very short clearing of the throat could be heard from him, and he looked up at the other with a literally transparent expression.

A lot of Stanleys?  Oh dear, that certainly didn’t make her job sound any easier.  How was she supposed to find Stanley among a bunch of others that were very much like him?  What if she stumbled across one that belonged in a dimension much like hers, but just hadn’t gotten lost yet?  Then that dimension’s Stacey would have to go looking, and-

…  Whoa.  Was that a possible paradox loop in the making?  She hoped not.

“Well, my uncle is selectively mute, speaks in sign language, stims by pressing buttons, and- oh?”  Huh.  It seemed this Stanley just wrote messages to communicate.  She could work with this.

“Thank you… er, Stanley; but I’m afraid there isn’t very much information to go on.  N insists He last saw him go through the Freedom Ending, but I’ve been through there a hundred times over, and I’ve yet to find anything.  Do you two perhaps know of any glitches or cracks in the coding that he could have slipped or fallen through that are otherwise hard to get to?  And Stanley, perhaps you think like my uncle; where do you think you would go if you wanted to hide or be alone?”

“The Freedom Ending?” The Narrator mused. If he had a visible head, he would have looked up at the ceiling while he pondered. “That’s a very vulnerable space in the coding, yes. Though you would have to go through very specific motions to avoid the end of that End, if you can understand what I’m getting at there.” He was slightly surprised that he was taking an interest in her conundrum, but god forbid he show this interest it in his dialogue. “Don’t ask me what those motions might be. Even that is beyond my books and knowledge.”

At the same time, Stanley placed the paper on the flat surface of a cubicle wall and wrote his answer. More than once he frowned in thought, sighing and shaking his head as he showed her his message with a shrug.

The harsh lighting from the sun nearly obscured his form, leaving only the scarcest of shadows to indicate his presence there. It wasn’t as if there were any settings to make himself more noticeable. Either that or he never bothered to look for one.

“This is as much of an accurate representation as I could find in relation to how I feel toward this question right now. But if this animated visual does not compel you to walk away, satisfied with my rejection, then I hope this artist’s interpretation will do a better job at doing so.”