There Is No Story: Corrupted Entries

Greeting you again, Reader. So, just the five of us are left. Five people who are still alive, five individuals stuck in this cursed place, trapped between virtuality and reality, just the five of us… five is such an insignificant number, isn't it? Is it really worth trying to save us somehow? Wouldn't it be better to take care of hundreds of other people? Isn't it worth making sure no one else ever chooses the path we chose? You know, when I observed what was happening in the Office, I often tried to analyze out situation, understand in which specific stretch of eternity our experiment went completely off the road where it should have gone. Unfortunately, none of my conclusions turned out to be fully correct, so all I can do now is to re-observe what happened a long time ago, a fate that can't ever be changed. You're probably wondering what exactly I'm trying to tell in my vague musings, aren't you? Well, I'll start from the very beginning. As I mentioned in Entry #1, personnel were hired, about five hundred people or so… more than enough to make the Office alive, don't you think? It was relevant until someone from the Upstairs decided to make radical changes to the Script. I think it was a Friday noon. At exactly one twenty p.m., they herded all the employees from the fourth floor into the Meeting Room, locked them in, and then launched a digital model for the first time. Well, or a beta version of the so-called game algorithms. In short, they hastily teleported a roughly rendered protagonist model and placed it in the middle of the Room C-2… well, or, as they called it a bit later, the Two Doors Room. Then the Announcer uttered a few initial test commands and… who would have thought? Nothing happened because the first Protagonist had absolutely no motivation to move as there was no hint of free will in his code to begin with. Therefore, the first test of the game algorithm was deemed a failure, the Announcer received his portion of criticism, and the rest of the staff was released from the Meeting Room, to continue their favourite simulations of office work. The only employee who didn't even try to simulate activity was Employee #432. And you know what? In reality, he was one of the few ones who actively participated in actual real work, despite having no idea what he was supposed to do. They called it a "small social experiment." Conditions were as simple as two cents; Employee #432's desk had no computer; in fact, there was nothing on it except a mechanical pencil sharpener… and there were no pencils on the entire fourth floor. The staff used pens only, in cases when it was absolutely necessary, as most documentation was done in digital formats. It seemed that Employee #432 had one little task; to sharpen pencils. The catch was that nobody had pencils, and even if someone did, nobody was rushing to give them to him because their instructions strictly stated; 'Do not give pencils to Employee #432, do not answer his questions, ignore his pleas.' If you were to ask what the point of this so-called "small social experiment" was, I would answer without hesitation; to drive Employee #432 to a nervous breakdown, then observe and record results of his subsequent irrational actions in a place where no one could die for good. Feel free to make further conclusions, dear Reader. The second attempt at testing game algorithms went a bit more successfully. I have no idea what contributed to this—whether it was the requalification of the Announcer into a Narrator or the direct involvement of Employee #427, who so graciously offered himself as a replacement for that glitched protagonist model. So, thanks to his volunteering and the edited Script provided by the Narrator, we finally got the game algorithms to work just as intended from the very start of the project. In 90% of cases, the Protagonist ("Stanley") chose the right door, despite the Narrator repeatedly saying; "When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, Stanley took the door on his left." Good old free will… could a man believing that he fully possesses it even in a place like the Office act differently? Obviously not. The experiment called "The Parable" received the most funding, so it continued and it was doomed to success. At least, that's how it seemed back then. Well, I'll start from the very beginning. O̧h ͟m͡y gǫod̨ ̀lo͠rd, hundred̴s͘ o҉f́ ͘pe͞o͘pļe, s̕o m̢any̛ ma̶ǹy͞ ̕people… how͏ co̸uld thìs ́ha͢pp҉e̛n?̶ Why͟?͟ ̸F͠or w̸h͠at?͘ M̷o͞st҉ ͏of͜ ţhem didn't do ͞anyth͟ing wrong; m͟ost of̡ ̧them l̕ed̨ a͢ simple, o͘rdinar͠y l͟ife; mo̸st of͜ the̵m h͡ąd f̵am͏ilięs, ma̡ny͠ o̵f ͢them ha͘d ch́i͡ld̡ren.̢ M͝o͞st of ̕t͏hem͟ w͘il̨l̶ neve̴r ͏rétu̷rn͢ home;͞ ̨th́ey҉ ͟won҉'̷t se͢e͜ their c͝h̴i͞ļdren ̕gr͢ow ̶u̴p̧; they̶ w̨il͞l n͠e͏ver͠ know whàt̕ ҉happ̧e҉ǹs̷ ͘t̨o our w͟o̡rld n͝e͠xt̶;͝ th̴ey ͜w͘ill҉ ̷n̛ever͏ ͝ag̶aįn have picnics įn p̵arks; ̷they wi̷l͜l͞ neve̢r͡ ͝g͘r͘o҉w ̧old̸ an̴d͟ ͟nevér die.͘ T҉hey̶ ҉a̶re us a̢n̸d ̧we are ̵them—so d̴ìff̕erent,̷ ̀y҉e҉t̵ s̕o̵ ͝s͏i̸milar̛, ̀ind͞ivi͜dual pe̢rson҉al̨i͝tięs b̛uţ so co҉nn̕e̕cte̢d ̧i̧n ҉á şiǹgl͠e ̨l̴i͡ne of̡ ̕scri̶pt…͢ "̧A͢ll̸ of hi̴ś ̴c͝o-wo͡rkęr̕s҉ ҉were go͢ne̴.ͨ."͟ Dear Reader, I am no longer sure if it's necessary for me to keep the remnants of my observations in order… but I'll try. I'll try to remember something; I'll try to gather those few pieces of data that once made me myself. Just let me do this. Let me start from the very beginning. Please let's begin again. > Let's begin again. > Let's begin again.