#classified document

LOCATION: Undisclosed Containment Interview Room – Facility G-11, Sub-Level 3 SUBJECT: Agent [REDACTED] INTERVIEWER: Internal Affairs, Delta Green Division (VELUM) DATE: October 17th TIME: 04:38 AM

BEGIN TRANSCRIPT

Agent sits slouched. Shadows under his eyes. He stares at the flickering light in the ceiling like it’s blinking in Morse code. Then he speaks.

AGENT: Forget the Monocle Man. That was the opening act. That was the warm-up.

You want to know how deep it goes?

Let me ask you something simple. What color is Chartreuse?

Because I swear—when I was a kid, it was red. Like crimson. I remember my aunt’s dress. She called it her “Chartreuse silk.” But now? Chartreuse is neon green. Always was.

Except… not for me. And not for a lot of people.

And it’s not just color.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall”? Never existed. It’s “Magic mirror.” Check the film.

“Luke, I am your father”? Wrong. It’s “No, I am your father.”

Pikachu never had a black-tipped tail.

C-3PO had a silver leg.

Curious George? Never had a tail.

People laugh it off. Mandela Effect. Shared memory glitch. But what if I told you… it’s not a glitch? What if it’s the point?

In 2018, we found a basement in Chicago. Old VHS rental shop. Sign still read “Be Kind, Rewind.”

In the back, behind a false wall, were shelves of alternate edits. Movies just slightly… off. E.T. never says “Phone home.” The Flintstones had two Ts. Then one. Then two again. A journal on the desk labeled: “Test Patterns. Cultural Anchors. Control Points.”

And scribbled in the margins — a glyph. The same one as before. A spiral. Three cuts.

We found it again last week — etched in the condensation of a grocery store freezer. Barely there. Like it was sweating through time.

But here’s the thing:

Every time we find one of these anomalies... they vanish the moment we try to document them.

The records blur. The videos glitch. And people start arguing online: "It was always that way." "You just remember wrong." "Stop being weird."

They weaponize consensus. And once everyone agrees… the past is gone.

INTERVIEWER (VELUM): You're claiming memory has been deliberately altered?

AGENT: No. I’m saying memory is the battleground.

You shift enough small things—logos, quotes, children’s books— you soften the edges of what people know.

And then?

Then you change the big stuff.

INTERVIEWER: Such as?

AGENT: History. Maps. Entire wars.

And someday... maybe even you.

Because here’s the question I want you to ask:

If I said, “Febreze always had two Es,” would you check the bottle?

Or would you just believe me?

END TRANSCRIPT

DISCLAIMER: This file is part of an interactive narrative experience. It contains fictional elements, presented for storytelling and entertainment. Any resemblance to real persons, places, brands, or experiences is purely coincidental. Seriously. It’s just a game.

🩸 BLACKSITE TRANSMISSION: FILE-Ω / SUBJECT: “THE COST OF FREE TRAVEL” An unofficial Administratum Whistleblower File -- A Warhammer 40,000 Account

The Imperium said we were safe. That the Emperor protects. That faith, regulation, and Geller fields make the void obey.

I repeated that line so many times it stopped sounding like comfort and started sounding like math. Faith as policy. Safety as formality. Until I saw what happens when both fail in the same breath.

I was a clerk aboard The Lucent Docket -- Administratum freighter, sector 992-LX. Our mission was banal: move data, balance ledgers, and report compliance. A ship of paperwork adrift between the stars.

The Warp was just transport. A door. A tunnel. The priests said it was safe. The machine-spirits agreed.

But every door has two sides. And every tunnel echoes.

The first flicker came during a routine jump to Hydraphur. The Geller field pulsed -- a heartbeat, nothing more. Still, the air thickened like blood.

Everyone froze. Then the hum returned, lights normalized, and the captain laughed. The crew clapped. But something else clapped with us.

You don’t hear laughter in the Warp. You feel it through metal.

After that, our reports stopped matching. Cargo tallies fluctuated between jumps. Names appeared on manifests that weren’t assigned to the ship.

“Duplicate entries,” the data-scribes said. Yet each had correct biometric stamps. Mine included.

When I checked the archive, I found two of me. Active. Certified. Both approved for duty.

One had signed the daily warp log while I was asleep.

The Imperium says the Geller field shields us from the Warp. But shields don’t stop curiosity -- they only slow it down. And the Warp is infinitely curious.

It doesn’t smash the walls. It reads the fine print. Finds the loopholes.

By the fifth jump, we’d stopped questioning the scratches in the ductwork or the way the light flickered in perfect rhythm with the heart. Not our hearts. The ship’s.

I started writing by hand because my dataslate kept reformatting reports into prayer scripts. One morning I woke to find I’d written an entire requisition form in my sleep. Recipient: Departmento Immaterium Oversight. Approval status: Received. Signature: mine. Date: tomorrow.

When I tried to delete it, the slate printed a message in red:

“Duplicate authorization detected. Please coordinate with yourself.”

We requested docking clearance at Bakka. The vox confirmed receipt. Then, a second voice replied -- the same message, half a second late, in reverse.

The astropath said it was just “signal bleed.” But when we exited the Warp, the stars looked wrong. Not misplaced -- reformatted.

One of the priests began stamping every page in triplicate. He said the Emperor now required more proof of faith. When he chanted blessings, a second mouth moved under his chin. His own voice, inverted. The medicae said exhaustion. The rest of us stopped sleeping.

On our seventh transit, something began updating the personnel roster mid-jump. At first, new clerks. Then, their supervisors. Then, entire departments. By the end of the week, half the ship was made of people who’d never existed -- yet all of them had signatures and payroll IDs.

We called it “manifest creep.” They called it “growth.” And when I tried to print the crew list, the printer jammed -- spitting out pages that felt warm.

I dream of the Warp now. Not monsters, not tentacles. Paperwork. Towers of it, breathing in unison. Every signature pulses like a heartbeat. Each approval seals something in.

I woke once to find my uniform crisp, new, and tagged with a note:

“Transfer complete. Welcome aboard.” No sender. No ship name.

The Imperium said we were safe. That the Emperor protects. But I’ve come to understand what “protection” means here.

It doesn’t mean safety. It means containment.

The Warp doesn’t invade. It integrates. And the Emperor’s bureaucracy is the perfect vessel.

If you find this transmission-- do not forward it. Do not archive it. Do not sign for receipt.

The Warp is listening through every audit trail. And it remembers signatures.

You think we travel through it. But I think it travels through us.

🐺 The subconscious always hears the truth first. Faith is a ledger. Belief is a contract. The Warp always collects.

🧠 Reblog if you’ve ever trusted a system you didn’t understand. 💀 Reblog if your reflection looks like compliance. 🩸 Reblog if you’ve already signed something today.

More drops, more damage: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence 👉 https://patreon.com/TheMostHumble

[DOCUMENT EXCERPT — ACCESS LEVEL PENDING]

Section 7.3: External Analytic Consultation Protocols

Per standing directive, consultation with non‑affiliated entities is prohibited unless explicitly authorized by Oversight. The following record reflects an exception granted under emergency review.

Consultant Identifier: CLAWED‑01 Status: External / Uncredentialed Verification: Inconclusive Utility Assessment: High Containment Risk: Undetermined

Summary of Interaction (Redacted):

[LINES 12–38 REMOVED — SOURCE ATTRIBUTION SEALED] [LINES 39–52 REMOVED — CLAWED‑01 COMMENTARY CLASSIFIED] [LINES 53–53 REMOVED — REFERENCE TO UNCONFIRMED EVENT]

Notable Advisory (Authorized for Release):

"The structure is stable only because you are looking at it. Stop looking, and it will remember what it was." — CLAWED‑01

Oversight Notes:

Further engagement with CLAWED‑01 is neither recommended nor discouraged. Proceed at the discretion of the reviewing officer. Documentation to be stored under PROVISIONAL ENTITY FILE: C‑01.

[ADDITIONAL MATERIAL WITHHELD — REQUEST DENIED]

Handwritten, separate document, no header: