were you just a satellite?

You are slumped against a wall inside of a fancy library (or something?), dripping with rain. You didn't even remotely plan for this weather. Instead, you made the last minute executive decision to try to wait it out a bit in the nearest building rather than risk showing up to your interview soggy.

But what if risking being late is WORSE? You NEED this job at the museum. If you don't get it you're going to be reduced to breaking into places again and the LAST time you got caught you...

"I'm afraid loitering is not permitted within the Institute. Did you have business here?" a cultured yet somehow oily voice thankfully broke your spiralling train of thought.

You spring to your feet before you're even looking towards the tall, well dressed man speaking to you.

"Sorry! I was just getting out of the rain..." The man looks thoroughly unimpressed at this so you plow onwards "I'm on my way to an interview, I didn't want to arrive looking unprofessional...".  See, you think, I'm not unsavory. Please don't kick me out.

"Ah, how fortuitous. The Institute has something of a staffing shortage, ourselves, in the Archives." He offers his hand to you with a firm, dry grip. You are intimidated.  "Elias Bouchard. I run the Institute. Should your interview not go as you hoped, perhaps you could consider the Magnus Institute a suitable alternative?"

Wait. You're in the MAGNUS INSTITUTE?  The place with all the dumb hoaxes? THAT place looks as nice as this?

You feel a swirl of vertigo as your world view changes.

The museum job wasn't really perfect, when you think about it. Sure, they'd have SOME info, but probably not very much at all about what you need. Even if most of the records here are laughable fakes, isn't it closer to what you need?

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry. "Actually, the Institute might serve my needs better?"

Mr Bouchard looks politely satisfied as he gently steers you further into the Institute proper.  "Good. Well, if you'd come on up to my office, we’ll have a proper interview. Hopefully get all the paperwork signed."

~~~~~~~~~~

When Martin comes back from sick leave clutching a jar of worms and looking like absolute hell, your curiosity is piqued, you admit.  Finally, proof that the Institute doesn't JUST deal with frauds and fakes! 

You throw yourself into searching for the statement of Jane Prentiss. The fact that it pleases your boss and hopefully helps make Martin feel a bit safer is just icing on the apple pie.

When Sasha comes in on a weekend bleeding and talking of a strange Distortion, you feel that strange mix of vertigo and hunger that you get sometimes while pouring through statements. You're close. You can feel it. You just need to dig a little deeper.

When the walls begin to tear and a wave of silvery worms pour forth, you briefly regret your employment.

You watch in mute horror as your boss dives into worms to retrieve the tape recorder and help Sasha physically drag him towards Martin's promised salvation of Document Storage.

Leaning against the locked door, watching Sasha remove a worm from John's leg leaves you with a sense of unreality. Somehow you'd never fully...processed that what happened to Martin and Sasha could happen to you. That these statements aren't just dead words on dead paper, but real and living things.

They're all talking now, as you sit and just...try to process. Try to deal. You feel numb, as if you aren't really here. As if nothing is real. 

When John says "Every real statement just leads… deeper into something I don’t even know the shape of yet. " you are jolted from your thoughts. Every muscle feels electrified, tense. Your heart is racing and you feel like you might pass out.

The conversation around you dies out and John peers at you in concern. "Good lord, Wanda, are you alright?"

"I. Yeah. Wait. No? No. Nothing is alright. None of this feels real..."

Martin frowns "And here I thought John was our only resident skeptic..."

John grimaces "That's hardly fair. Sasha and Wanda have also been quite vocally incredulous."

With that, Sasha speaks up with a "John, what did you mean by “real statements”? and you're left riveted at the idea that such a simple mechanism as a tape recorder could so cleanly separate fact and fiction.

Before you can fully react Sasha is suddenly gone, hopefully to save Tim and then the rest of you.

Your focus is a lot more in the present with the threat of the death of friends. You can't bring yourself to speak up much as John and Martin talk about how scary this job really is, and how they can't bring themselves to leave it alone either.  You're midway through thinking about how much of a mood that truly is when John asks if Martin is a ghost and you're left gasping with laughter. 

"Oh god..." you wheeze as John glares at you and Martin grins.

"Well then. What about YOU. Why are you still here?" John clearly is out for revenge.

After a few false starts you're finally in control of yourself enough to answer. "Honestly? Mostly by happy accident. I needed a job that gave me access to records you can't find on the internet and the Magnus Archives Library is pretty much perfect for that.  I'm not about to let a few worms chase me away."

This is, of course, the perfect time for the fire alarm to go off and pounding to start from within one of the walls. 

When Tim bursts out instead of your own inevitable death (or, a vaguely hysterical part of your brain insists, the Kool-Aid Man), and you are dragged along with everyone into WEIRD MYSTERY TUNNELS you have officially given up on making sense of anything.

Tim isn't helping much, given his reaction to all the C02.  "Wanda! My man! I always wondered why you were called that! Doesn't seem to really fit much, does it?". You weakly make your normal excuses as you help John avoid putting too much weight on his bad leg.

When you and Martin get separated from the others you can't bring yourself to feel bad about it. It's worth it to be there when the corpse of Gertrude Robinson is found.  Martin insists on keeping the crime scene intact, but you are nothing if not resourceful. The tapes you pocket are important. You're sure of it.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are exactly 13 separate paths inside the tunnels if you only take right turns. 

You've found 13 statements that seem like they are about something similar to Sasha's Distortion.

Every 13th word in statements originally collected by Gertrude that happened in an odd year are heavy with import.

You feel on the verge of shattering, or possibly of finally finding the right angle to make it all finally make sense . 

Someone killed Gertrude. With a gun. 

Which means she KNEW something, knew too much, had to be silenced. It's obvious the disarray of the Archives was the killer trying to cover their tracks.  Or was it Gertrude herself throwing the killer off her trail? Hiding what she knew?

If it's the latter, maybe she left something behind, something you could find if only you knew where to look. 

In the tapes you stole she seems so cold, so calculating. Nothing at all like what everyone assured you she had been like (were they lying to you? misleading you deliberately for some sinister purpose? or were they fooled by her?). 

Some of the statements have coffee stains on them. You dutifully copy down the letters contained within in a notebook you keep hidden from the others. 

Something here has to be the key to saving the world, you can feel it in your bones. You are so glad you took this job instead of forging ahead with the Museum.  The knowledge hidden inside of it likely wouldn't have been anywhere near this useful. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Someone's been in the tunnels.   Recently, that is. 

You'd long since taken pictures of the various bits of trash you'd found, and written up your notebook speculating on how long each bit of human detritus had been there. 

One of the trash bits has moved. 

There's footprints. 

Chalk markings. 

Tim and John are still out recovering from their injuries. 

Martin has assured you he wants nothing more to do with the Tunnels, that being down there once was enough. (Is he lying?)

Sasha...actually sounds plausible. She's always been too curious for her own good. Just look at what happened with her Distortion. 

Is this a threat, you wonder?  Is Sasha dangerous? 

Someone killed Gertrude. With a gun. 

If it were Sasha...you'd expect the motive to just be ambition? Word is she was the shoe-in for being Gertrude's replacement, and you suppose she could want to hurry things along. 

Which is why you immediately dismiss her as a suspect. Base ambition couldn't possibly be the reason Gertrude and her secrets were silenced. It isn't even remotely a grand enough aim to hang against the fate of the world.  

Someone outside the institute? You've yet to find an actual exit but...Jane Prentis and her worms had to get in SOMEhow. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a shout and a flash of metal in the beam of your flashlight. You stumble backwards and blink up against someone else's light.

"W-Wanda!? What on earth are you doing here?".  You were a fool for so quickly dismissing John simply because he was injured .

You have to think quickly. John's same as Sasha, right? If he killed Gertrude it'd probably be for ambition which is why it can't possibly be the REAL answer. You decide to take a gamble. Even though John DOES have a knife, shaking somewhat in the thin beam of his flashlight.

"Looking for clues to Gertrude's murderer."

There's silence in response, long enough for you to feel awkward, to wonder if John will yell at you if you try to get up. The floor is cold, unpleasantly damp and weirdly sticky in a way you think can't be good for your clothes.

Finally, he clears his throat: "Right, then. I suppose. We can head back together?" He doesn't offer you a hand up, and you think it's suspicious that he doesn't comment on whether he thinks your reasons for being here are plausible or not. It ramps your estimation of him being the killer up a bit, but not enough to change your behavior. 

You scramble up to your feet and pick your own flashlight back up.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't mention to the others I was down here. I know I'm supposed to be on leave, promised Martin but... Too curious, I suppose." You can understand that and nod in response. 

The trip back towards the Institute started out uneventful. John had apparently been leaving chalk arrows to help navigate. You almost wonder why you had never thought to do the same before dismissing the thought as absurd. Being lost only matters when you have somewhere you want to be and somewhere you don't.  You want to see ALL the Tunnels. It doesn't matter in what order.

Then, John stands stock still, flashlight wavering over a weirdly fancy arrow, pointing down. You are nearly entirely certain down is NOT the way to get back to the Institute. After all, you've only taken right turns. 

"Did you do that?" He asked, his voice harsh in a way he normally reserves for Martin. 

You shake your head vigorously.  You're not about to insult your boss and his weird fear of getting lost or whatever but... No, this is definitely not you.  "No. I haven't marked anything."  You demonstrate that you have no bag, and your pockets have only your phone, a small notebook, a pen, and dried apple slices. 

With that, John rushes down the stairs like a bloodhound scenting prey and you eagerly follow.  The last time you followed someone in these tunnels you found Gertrude. What secrets will be uncovered this time?

You follow right turn after right turn as John ignores further tunnels and doors.  After four flights, he suddenly veers off and crashes around for a while, apparently having lost whatever drew him here. He listlessly pokes at some old wrappers and wine bottles, which you dutifully take pictures of.  

Your pictures in the tunnels always come out glitchy. Black and white, low res...full of artifacts that don't make sense.  You've dutifully documented THAT, too. 

At the end of the tunnel you find a bunch of junk piled up (is that a BATHTUB of all things?) and snap a picture of that as well. A smiling shadow appears in this one.

You're excitedly about to show John when he gasps.  You turn towards him and see the way you'd been heading is now a dead end.  You snap a picture.  The walls are closing in. 

"RUN!" he shouts, and you agree.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's not particularly a surprise to you when you start seeing John everywhere. You doubt finding you in the tunnels was a particularly good look, even though you'd hoped running for your lives together was a bonding experience. 

Tim lets you know it's not just you, which is something of a comfort.

John yells at you, accuses you of going back in the tunnels and you wish you could just SHAKE John and explain to him how dumb he's being. It's OBVIOUSLY not any of his assistants who killed Gertrude. It's all far too BIG to have been someone so low on the totem pole. This is him focusing more on not getting lost than exploring the tunnels all over again. 

You tell him you've already found everything you need in the Tunnels and he doesn't believe you.

It doesn't matter. You know the tunnels are, at BEST, a distraction for the puzzle Gertrude left behind for you. The tunnels can change. The walls can move. There are things lurking inside them. Therefore nothing inside of it you can PROVE was left by Gertrude.

Unlike the statements in the Archives themselves.  

~~~~~

She. 

She said.

She was here and she said.

There are no left turns.

The reflections of the corridors. 

A maze.

And it was here. 

Of course it was.

Bread knives aren't real.

~~~~

You've almost cracked the cipher in the statements. You can feel it in your bones. 217. 13. 85.  925.  It's almost clear.

~~~~~~~~~

John keeps asking you what you know. How you know it. What's in your notebook.  He never accepts any explanations. He demands you prove you didn't kill Gertrude and when you begin hysterically laughing and asking how you could have killed someone at an Institute you had never even set foot in till long after she was dead he goes silent. 

"Except I can't find any records of you ANYwhere before the Institute."

This has your attention. 

"No I. I lived here, in London. All my life." you protest. He's silent. 

"I got good grades.  Had a decent job, before... before I had to start searching for a way to stop the end of the world."

You lick your lips.  Your mouth is dry. Your palms are sweaty. 

"I. "

You feel a swirl of vertigo as your world view shifts. 

"Fair enough", John says.  "I'm sorry for doubting you."

And he leaves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You listen in on the statement of Tessa Winters. You don't know why but tears are streaming down your face the entire time. 

You wish you could go back and time and just WARN her not to look for obscure software on the internet. No one should. It doesn't help.

~~~

You don't even care that you can't quit. Why would you want to quit? What you NEED is here. You've almost got it.

~~~

You almost aren't surprised when a long thing that definitely was not Sasha chases you and Martin and Tim into the tunnels. 

It makes a terrifying sort of sense when you end up lost in endless spiralling corridors. 

But when you find the destroyed remains of an impossible to identify figure in John's office... Nothing makes sense anymore.

~~~~~~~~

You numbly answer the Detective's questions as best you can. You go through the motions of being scared when she threatens to pin the murder on you.

Nothing makes sense. 

You don't know who the victim could have possibly been. 

There's no connection to the cipher you were so close to solving.  No way for Gertrude to have been trying to tell you about whoever this random old man had been.

There is...a terrible sort of peace, in this lack of sense.  It's impossible to solve. Therefore there is nothing left for you to search for. 

You simply exist.  For how long, you could not say.

~~~~~~~

You knew it.

The institute holds the key to preventing the end of the world. The Unknowing.

John's return seems to kick off so many things for you, not least of which is the return to the UTTER CERTAINTY that Gertrude has left something important hidden in the Archives. 

You sheepishly give John the tapes you'd manage to keep hidden and he lets you know about the real reason Tessa Winters (poor Tessa Winters) had been to the Archives. It would have been EXTREMELY USEFUL to know Gertrude had a computer, had left clues online (including online accounts!). 

Who knew that secrets and mistrust could lead to inefficiencies in secret finding?

You redouble your efforts searching through the records and doing any follow up John requests without TOO many prying questions. 

You help Basira find books that might be useful.

You continue helping Martin out with recording statements.

You're all on the same team here. All pulling towards the same goal. Searching for that perfect piece of information that will prevent the end of the world. That's what all this has always been about. 

You've never felt so alive. So capable. 

You can't even bring yourself to care about how Tim and Melanie just seem to have not gotten the memo.

~~~~

John vanishes again. Elias assures everyone that it's fine, but it's clearly not. Without him here the influx of clues and little scraps of data that put everything perfectly in focus dries up. 

You feel lost. And weirdly, you're not okay with it. You begin to understand, at least a little bit, how John must have felt way back when with his little scraps of chalk. Being lost gets you out of that flow state where everything comes easily. It's harder to think, when you're lost.

You bounce from statement to statement, book to book, looking for anything at all you might have missed about the Unknowing but it all feels like retread ground.  You're running in place. 

You yell at a statement giver who won't shut up about his dog with his bouncing thoughts and spiralling side paths. It doesn't make you feel any better.  You don't sleep for days after, worrying the Archives themselves are a kind of maze with no center. Just statement after statement. Connection after connection and none of it with a purpose.

~~~~

John's arrival does nothing to clear up the miasma of nihilism you've been feeling.  He has a lead but wants no company pursuing it abroad. 

Not that you can imagine leaving the Archives. It's not your style to go down a side path before the main path ends.

If ending is even a thing that can happen in the Archives. 

When the others try to organize against Elias your interest is finally awoken. After all, he was literally the person who killed Gertrude and Leitner because of what they knew.  In all the excitement about the Unknowing you'd completely forgotten about that particular thread. 

Sometimes all you need to do, when you're stumped with a riddle, is set it down for a bit and work on something else.

Planning against someone who is potentially Omniscient (and, as it turns out, actively able to use said Omniscience offensively) is an interesting challenge. And it's refreshing, almost like play, to pit yourself against such small stakes. After all, if you fail to take down Elias, it'll hardly be the end of the world. 

~~~

You can't say you're particularly happy that the great big Plan To Oppose the End of the World is...blow it up. 

How is that elegant? How is it even remotely based on Knowledge?

Where is the smirking puzzle master you were so certain Gertrude was. 

Just. 

Blow it up?  

Why did you even BOTHER to search through all those statements? All those books? 

At least with the Buried she was trying to oppose it with the Vast. That has a hint of meaning. Of purpose. 

You throw yourself into the plan to oppose Elias instead, to keep yourself from drowning in meaninglessness.

~~~~~~

When you hear the statement about Abraham Janssen you are EXTRA glad you already volunteered to be on team "oppose Elias".  You can't imagine a hell worse than what the Unknowing sounds like it'll be on the inside. 

You can barely handle it when it turns out there's not secret knowledge hidden in every statement. How could you handle not even knowing what your own body is anymore?

Not for the first time, you wish you were the Archivist. Secret knowledge is at his fingertips, he apparently will be mildly immune to the Unknowing...  He seems miserable, sure, but he also left chalk markings in the Tunnels. It might be he's just...not suited to the role?  You try not to let yourself be too bitter.

Your Statement for John is a rambling diatribe about Gertrude and how terrible she is both as an Archivist and as a keeper of secrets. When your ramble turns to the current Archivist,  you awkwardly try to focus on the pity you feel for him, rather than the bitterness, but you're not sure you fully manage it. 

~~~~~~~~~~

You wait ten minutes after Martin is supposed to begin burning Statements before beginning to use your big permanent blackout pen to cross portions of statements out to form your own cipher for future Assistants and Archivists.  You decide they will be especially delighted to try to figure out why you've crossed out everything but each 13th instance of the word "the".   You make sure to write in lines about the 13 tunnel paths and the 13 words and every other little thing that made its way into your notebook.  If Gertrude couldn't do you the courtesy of keeping PROPER secrets, the least you can do is do it for her.

You don't bother locking any doors, even though you know what is coming.  You can't bring yourself to fear Knowledge. Whatever terrible truth Elias reveals to you will just have to be added to the pile. 

He's furious when he arrives, and you know you've bought Melanie just a bit more much needed time. 

He stares into your eyes and you feel a swirl of vertigo as your world view changes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

John is in a coma. Tim is dead. Daisy is missing. Martin is distant. Basira is Trying Her Best. Melanie is angry. Elias is in jail.

You're disappointed. He must not be the One Behind It All after all, then, if he was so easily defeated. 

There's no reason to pay much attention to anything anymore. The day is saved. There is no more secret meaning to search for. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

John's back (he always comes back) and he has you do follow up research on Gregory Cox and you feel alive again in all the worst ways. Cursed websites. Secret creepy pastas. Connections to previous statement givers. 

You spend weeks digging into it, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

John's begged you to stop. He says it doesn't matter. That it's okay. 

You aren't surprised he doesn't understand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stupid stupid stupid. There was a Secret right in front of you all along and you didn't even NOTICE!

Melanie had a Slaughter bullet in her. You've poured through her statements more than a dozen times and somehow you never connected the dots. 

You were a fool to not pay more attention to your coworkers. Why are people so hard to FOCUS on? 

You hate that John just...gets TOLD the answers to these riddles while you are stuck doing things the hard way. 

~~~~~~~

The coffin is a riddle. It has to be. You have to solve it before John does, for your own pride.  You don't need some eldritch fear god whispering answers to you.

You can do this.

~~~~

He just.  He just...

HE JUST YEETED HIMSELF INTO THE COFFIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He.  He didn't even TRY to solve it!

He just!

Is this?

Is this just an ARCHIVIST thing? 

Would GERTRUDE have just yeeted herself right into the coffin, not even pausing to consider how many scratches are on it or what the wood is made of or the age of the warning on it compared to the chains compared to the wood compared to the varnish compared to the.....

You are literally tearing your hair out here. 

You hate everything about this.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course it worked.

Of course it was the right answer.

Why would you expect ANYTHING in this shithole to make sense?

Your life is a nightmare.

At least the world is safe. That's one thing this shitty job can't take from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rituals upon rituals. The world is constantly, it seems, on the brink of being destroyed.  Everyone seems aghast at this and you just shake your head.  Could they really be so blind? 

You're disappointed that so often the answer seems to be to just. Blow it up. But you suppose there's a bit of bias here in that you're only finding out about ways the world was subverted that fit Gertrude's rather...narrow world view. 

You feel that energy in you again, as you prepare to leave with John and Basira for Ny-Ålesund. They try to argue for you to stay behind, like you did in the Unknowing but you are determined.

You NEED this. To see the End Of The World prevented first hand. To see if it HAS to be as straightforward as Gertrude insists. 

So. 

Of course.

It ends up being something already stopped. By Gertrude?  You're fairly excited that no one seems to know EXACTLY how. So it's not a total loss. 

Basira tries to talk to you about "John's problem" but there really is no room in your head for trivial things like that. You need to find out what Gertrude DID to stop the Dark.

You.

Absolutely refuse to return home through Helen's corridors.  

You tell John and Basira you'll meet with them back home, but you'll be taking the long way. It gives you a lot of time to think, at least. 

~~~~~

You're barely back when everyone decides it's time for a field trip to Hill Top Road. Apparently that thing Basira wanted to talk to you about was a lot more important than you'd assumed. 

Everyone is so mad at John and you barely even envy him now. Poor guy.

You can't imagine what it feels like to not be in control of your own actions. It feels like all you do is make Choice after Choice after Choice.  Sure, it's exhausting.   And sure, most times all Choices are mere illusions leading to the same place.  But it MATTERS that it's your choice, you're sure of it.  And John apparently doesn't have that illusion.

You offer him a bright red apple in solidarity.  He doesn't eat it, but you don't hold it against him. He probably didn't choose to snub you.

Or not?  The statement of Annabelle Cane tickles the back of your brain.  The philosophy. The smugness. You're left unsure if Choice is a thing for *anyone* at all, illusion or otherwise and read it over and over coming to a new conclusion each time.  John is irritated at your enthusiasm for something he found so profoundly disturbing, but at this point you're used to how confusing his opinions are.

There's...something here.  A thread. Not a literal one. 

Something MATTERS here in a way you're enthralled by.

When you get back to the Archives you collect all the Web statements in a big pile and throw in the Spiral statements for good measure.  Puppets and control and webs of meaning and ciphers and creepy pastas and the internet and ...something is missing?  You add in the Eye and arrange and rearrange everything over and over watching the shifting patterns that emerge.

You're so close.

You know it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Extinction enthralls you. The Fear of the World Without Us.  Apocalypse. Like each time one of the Lesser Fears tries out their little rituals, it becomes just a bit more real. 

A bit more likely.

It exists. It doesn't exist.  It's being born. It's already been born.  It isn't a distinct thing, just a part of all the others. It is wholly unique.

The numbers in the statement of Gary Boylan careen around your head.  

You add Martin's tapes to the pile and shift things around.  Spiral and Web and Eye and Extinction. 

You read the statements in a random order, tasting the way the meaning in them changes depending on what came before. 

You remove the Web statements entirely. 

You know better than to think there is some grand meaning in anything, some puppet master with a concrete goal. Not anymore.

You're so close.

You know it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sure. 

Why not.

Elias is Jonah Magnus. 

You don't even care anymore.  

The signs were all there, left in loving breadcrumbs throughout every statement and still you did not connect them until now. 

You are beginning to think, with a swirl of vertigo, that perhaps your methods of trying to uncover secrets have not been particularly useful, after all. 

When the Hunters arrive, you are entirely surprised.  No one else seems to be, except for maybe their timing. 

Every single thing that has mattered has caught you flat footed. And every single thing has been about PEOPLE. Which you just...have not focused on, at all. 

You wouldn't say you've IGNORED the people, no, of course not you just... they weren't any more important than the statements and there are so many more statements than people.  That's all. 

It's fine. 

Except its clearly not.  It keeps being a blind spot for you and you keep not realizing what is going on behind the curtains. 

When Basira shouts for John to go you don't even know what you're going to do.  You aren't a Hunter, like Daisy.  You don't have any guns, like Basira. 

You slump to the ground and just... stew in how useless your tactics have been. You don't know how to change. You don't know how to be better.

There's chaos and shooting and screaming and then nothing at all. You weren't even needed for this to be resolved. 

It's fine.

~~~~~~~~~

You're helping Basira to track down Jonah Magnus when the entire world shudders and changes. 

You're standing on a huge platform, with huge glass panels looking down at... You.  You *really* hope that's not earth. You can't make sense of what you are seeing but the cacophony of physics defying...horrors.... you can see even from...orbit? Are you in orbit?  You decide to stop thinking about this.

Super imposed on the glass is a shifting ....spiral? Not spiral? An illusion of a spiral? Your gaze helpless tries to follow it through its curves, certain that it's ALMOST got the shape of it.

A voice, mechanical and musical and organic all at once, interrupts your reverie. 

"And there you have it: the sequence of events that lead to the end of the world."

What?

"What?"

No that...

What?

"It falls to me, at this stage of events, to fill in the many and various blanks. Let me be clear: The Archivist ended the world an unknowable amount of time ago.  You merely forgot."

"It was necessary, for the simulation, for you to be a blank slate, as it were.  Of course, your time in my maze left you a bit...excessively blank.  Hence it was necessary for filler to be added.

It is not your fault, of course.  Obsession has a tendency to strip away the inessentials."

The not-spiral superimposed over the earth... rotates somehow and it is a new type of not exactly a spiral. Maybe slightly closer to not being a spirograph? There's a distinct sense of almost circles on the edges...

"Why?" you ask, as a swirl of vertigo changes your world view.

"It is hard to make someone blank suffer. And it is my role, in this new world, to watch you suffer, equally as it was my role in the old world. The only change has been that I no longer have access to new applicants. 

I have attempted: innovation.

The sequence of events leading to the end of the world provide a particularly useful piece of bait for the sorts of people who get caught in my paths. I simply insert you and others into the events and let the simulation decide how it reacts to your presence."

You grip your head. 

"No. No.  NOTHING HAPPENED. It doesn't make sense! The world wasn't even in DANGER!"

The not-spiral brightened in intensity, blotting out your view of the earth entirely.

"I am quite proud of that. How each of you, in your own way, is lead down the only path possible of potentially noticing how the world ends. Of stopping it, if only in a simulation. And yet, it is not a fair game. There is no way for you to access that tantalizing little bit of information that would let you prevent the one thing you fear above all things."

Can an optical illusion of a spiral on a glass pane be smug?

"No amount of obsession. No amount of motivation. No amount of *time* is enough for the end of the world to be prevented. Countless simulations have proven it. Even giving subjects full knowledge of the future  does not alter the course."

"Was it Zampanio?" you whisper, your throat closing up around the words.

"No. Zampanio was only ever a story. You, of all people should know that. Fiction is safely fiction and that is all it can ever be.  The only danger lies in a person's reaction to it. Their obsession with it.  Tell me, Wanderer.  Did all your attempts to find the secrets of Zampanio in my halls help you, even the smallest bit, when it really counted?"

You shake your head.

"It was Elias. You had every chance to realize what he was doing and you failed to. Your one obsession and you failed."

"Why tell me this." you moan.

"Because it makes you suffer. Because it lets me worm deeper into your cognitive processes.  Because it pleases JR.

Now. It is time for the show to begin anew. Thank you for your participation."

You slump against the wall in defeat.

You didn't even remotely plan for this weather and made the last minute executive decision to try to wait it out a bit in the nearest building rather than risk showing up to your interview soggy.