Chapter Text
"This is the story of a man named Ranboo .
"Ranboo works for a company in a big building where he is employee number 1852. Employee Number 1852's job is simple: he sits at his desk in room 1852, and he pushes buttons on a keyboard. Orders come to him through a monitor on his desk, telling him what buttons to push, how long to push them, and in what order. This is what Employee 1852 does every day of every month and every year, and although others might consider it soul-rending, Ranboo relishes every moment that the orders come in, as though he has been made exactly for this job.
"And Ranboo is happy."
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"And then one day, something very peculiar happens."
The quiet whirring of a fan.
"Something that will forever change Ranboo. Something he will never quite forget."
A blinking light.
A small, green blinking light. A slim rectangle, made of pixels on an empty screen.
Ranboo stares at the computer screen. The green cursor blinks at him, waiting for input. He has no directions, no guidance, and no idea what he is supposed to type. He can hear the buzzing of the small fan on his desk, the cool air hitting his face. What a strange sensation.
His aching hands are resting on the keyboard, cramped. He slowly peels them off the keys.
Ranboo hesitantly switches off the fan, and is immediately plunged into silence. His fingers dig into the fabric of his pant leg. The only thing he can hear is his own breathing. A long moment passes as Ranboo stares at his hands. His thoughts race in circles, around and around and around.
He doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally stands up from his chair and glances at his surroundings. He is in a small office room, a desk to one side and a row of filing cabinets pushed to the opposite wall. Oh! Yes, he remembers this room, if a bit vaguely.
The employee breathes a sigh of relief. He knows where he is. He is safe and can continue his work. Oh, right. He isn't receiving any commands through the computer anymore. Something is very clearly wrong.
"Ranboo is at his desk for nearly an hour when he realizes that not one single order has arrived on the monitor for him to follow. Never in all his years at the company has this happened. Something is very clearly wrong."
Ranboo jumps in surprise at the unfamiliar voice. He looks around, as if expecting someone to magically materialize in the corner of the dim office room.
"Shocked, Ranboo finds himself unable to move for the longest time. But as he comes to his wits and regains his senses, he gets up from his desk and steps out of his office."
At that moment, the door to the tiny workroom opens on its own. The light from the office beyond spills into the dark room.
Ranboo freezes and stares at the open doorway.
He takes a deep breath, his mind racing. "Hello…?" He calls hesitantly. There is no answer. He tries again, nothing.
Ranboo sighs and rubs his forehead. Of course it isn't real. Of course there isn’t some disembodied voice floating around and narrating his actions, that’s absolute nonsense. It’s all just a trick. Or maybe he’s hallucinating a voice in his head. Could that be it? Is he going crazy? Will he have to be put in a mental hospital and put in a straight jacket and-
No, stop it. You’re fine. You’re completely fine. Just shut up and get back to work.
Ranboo glances at the open doorway of his workroom again. But I can't get back to work when no one's telling me what to do. I don't know what to do. Am I supposed to leave? With anxiety settling in his gut, he steps out of the tiny room and into the larger office. It’s yellow, just like he remembers, but completely empty of life.
"All of his coworkers are gone. What does it mean? Ranboo decides to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he has simply missed a memo."
Ranboo jumps again. "What the- where are you? Who is talking to me?"
No response. He tries again and receives the same silence. Accustomed to mindlessly obeying every order given to him at this office, he obeys the voice in his head.
Ranboo walks down the hallway, passing through another office room. At the end of the hallway is a large empty room with two open doors.
"When Ranboo comes to a set of two open doors, he enters the door on his left."
Ranboo jumps at the voice again. He’s never gonna get used to it, is he?
"The left door?" He eyes the left door for a moment before glancing at the right. "Okay…" He steps towards the left door before pausing. "Wait. Why am I even listening to you? You might just be a hallucination or something, I don’t know. I- I don’t really have a reason to trust you."
No response.
A sigh. “Why am I even talking to you?”
Ranboo eyes the right door. Should he? Should he oppose the voice? The voice isn’t necessarily one of his superiors in the office, so would it still count as disobeying?
Eventually, after a minute or two of inner conflict, Ranboo chooses the door on the right and starts down the long hallway.
"This is not the correct way to the meeting room, and Ranboo knows it perfectly well. Perhaps he wants to stop by the employee lounge first, just to admire it."
Jesus, why is the voice so loud? Without any other options, Ranboo wanders down to the employee lounge.
"Ah, yes. Truly a room worth admiring. It has really been worth the detour after all, just to spend a few more moments here in this immaculate, beautifully constructed room. Ranboo simply stands here, drinking it all in."
The employee lounge isn’t like the yellow of the offices, but is blue instead. The drink vending machine is lit up and probably still working. Ranboo doesn’t really remember this room very well. Possibly because it’s just not a very memorable or remarkable space, or because he hasn’t been here in… a very long time.
Ranboo leaves the blue room and heads down another long hallway.
"But eager to get back to business, Ranboo takes the first open door on his left."
He glances at the door on the left, takes a deep breath, and passes by it. It hurts. It really, really hurts. This isn’t right. Why is he disobeying? What’s the point in purposefully opposing someone who might be trying to help?
Before he knows it, he’s in the next room, a warehouse. The door behind him is closed and locked. No turning back.
He wants to go back. He really, really does. He doesn’t like this at all.
"Ranboo is so bad at following directions; it's incredible he wasn't fired years ago."
Ranboo stays quiet. He clenches his fists as he looks around the warehouse. There’s nowhere to go except for the moving platform. He eyes it. His stomach twists into knots, making him feel sick and nauseous. I’m disobeying. The voice said so itself- I’m definitely disobeying. Why am I doing this? What was I thinking? Why didn’t I have a problem with this earlier?
He’s dizzy and sick and dying and-
Ranboo steps onto the platform. It starts to move and his stomach lurches, forcing vomit into his mouth. He doubles over and coughs, stumbles, before frantically reaching for something to try to balance himself. His hands find nothing, and then he’s falling. Air whips past him. He screams. Suddenly, overwhelming pain hits him, a lightning strike to his whole body.
And then everything is gone.
“But in his eagerness to prove that he is in control of the story and no one gets to tell him what to do, Ranboo leaps from the platform and plunges to his death. Good job, Ranboo. Everyone thinks you are very powerful.”
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THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS