There Is No Story: Corrupted Entries

Seemingly, nothing foreshadowed trouble; the Narrator was again narrating the same Story, making absolutely inconspicuous changes every time Stanley deviated from the usual script and chose the right door. It seemed like all our algorithms were working in exactly the same chaotic order as always ...but still, something suddenly changed. And there he was, Stanley, passing by two doors and diving into that ventilation opening, and there it was, a completely new dark room leading somewhere entirely different. A place, that was, with all its plants and trees, and painfully synthetic sunlight, reminding of the Outside so much. And what happened next? Everything happened too fast, or maybe too slow for even me to gather the courage to grasp every detail... in short, I simply failed to catch the right moment to recognize differences between two similar yet entirely different updates of the Office. Not that I could have done anything about it, even if I had managed to notice these differences in time. Nevertheless, I would have preferred to be prepared for such an event, significantly in advance. And hello again, Reader. Where was I? Well, let me start from the beginning. Big. Round. Glowing with awfully bright yellow light. That bloody Skip Button, I hate It. Before It, I was perfectly fine existing like this, in this little room on the top floor and beyond, seemingly nowhere and everywhere. Observing our Narrator and Stanley. Sometimes—I would even say—quite often, it was fun ...right up until It appeared, that cursed yellow Button. I hate It. It won’t just ruin the Story entirely, oh no, it makes everything much worse— It skips It, It skips all of the Narrator's monologues, and It does it for Stanley only. Meanwhile, I had to listen to all his comments, from senseless time-killing ramblings to cries of breakdowns, which was quite soul wrecking to watch; I almost felt bad for him. To my great relief, it didn't take even half a millennium before some kind of system glitch occurred and the whole Office restarted. And it all started over and I could once again observe the same familiar decorations, the same familiar beige walls, the same plain carpet, I could hear the same Stanley’s footsteps and the same Narrator’s comments, yet once again could I regain that almost forgotten confidence that the end of this very Story would never ever be the end. The Story ended on the day Stanley disappeared. To be more specific; the man simply fell off the map. I don't know how exactly he managed it, but he slipped right underneath the entire Office and escaped to Somewhere Else, likely to the Outside, if he is lucky. Well, okay. Fine. I know how he did it. Someone assisted him with this and that someone was none other than his former colleague, now turned into something entirely different, something covered in all possible bugs and glitches, yet still managing to use them to his own advantage. Is it just me, or does he now even have access to the Game’s Settings? Is that even possible? If only I could ask him a couple of questions... but unfortunately, reaching his level is near impossible for me. So, Stanley escaped. The Narrator spent all his time trying to find him, and I just observed his futile attempts. It was boring, so terribly boring, that I decided to conduct my own investigation by peeking into every Ending and every corner of the Office. In essence, my searches differed little from the Narrator's attempts, except they happened much faster and didn't include dejected sighs or dramatic comments. However, I also failed to spot Stanley, even when I managed to look under the Office. It seems he really managed to escape for real this time. Perhaps I should have been happy for him? Maybe... but without him, nothing happens at all, because the Narrator refuses to pick any other Stanley except the very first one. If even the Protagonist himself managed to find a way out, does that mean I could too? Unfortunately, I can't just stop observing. I must continue to do my job. Someone has to keep making these entries.   So let me start from the beginning. In a moment of eternity, I began to delve into the least played Endings. In one of them, I finally noticed her. My new yet so familiar subject of observations. A young woman who had stopped hurrying, knowing perfectly well that her interview would never happen. She just stood in the middle of fake street decorations and seemed to glance at the camera every now and then. The corners of her lips froze in a small smile. I wonder, could she even slightly grasp our current situation back then, or did her catatonic nearly comatose state completely shielded her mind from the horrors of endless existence? The woman didn't blink nor move; she just stood there, thin fingers clutching her bag, her hair neatly tied up in a ponytail. And as soon as I looked into her blue eyes, her name immediately surfaced in my mind: Mariella. Mariella. Was that her real name? Probably not, but that was the only fragment of information I managed to retain at that moment and until now. And you know what? I'm losing myself every day; I haven't remembered my own name for a long time, but I know for sure that I won't let her share the same fate. I decided that I would never forget this name, Mariella. Because someone has to remember it if she forgets. Mariella. When I look at her, it seems like she feels my gaze. Mariella. When I look at her, it seems like she is looking back. Mariella. When I try to say her name, it seems like she hears me. Mariella. Were you here all this time, Mariella? How could I not notice you earlier, my dear Mariella? How could I not know that you are here, so close and yet so far, standing on this fake street, on this fake gray sidewalk? Mariella. Please blink for me at least once.  End of Entry #4