My Mind's Parable

As Stanley woke up he was met with silence. It's something he wasn't used to hearing, but in reality it wasn't pure silence, just no sound from the Narrator himself. His voice, that is. Stanley isn't sure how he makes the sounds of a keyboard clacking, or the shuffling of paper when he doesn't have a body of his own. Maybe he is just very vocally talented.

From all around Stanley, the sound of typing of a keyboard came from the probable speaker around the parable. A consistent humming of the bright fluorescent lights overhead drummed in Stanley's ears, now after taking that nap, they felt a lot louder. The occasional quick drag of a mouse came from the speakers too. 

Stanley knows for sure the Narrator didn't have a body, but the sounds Narrator makes, however he makes them, they're quite convincing. In this slightly drowsy state, he almost thought someone else was here with him.

It is truly quite an oddity, but compared to the rest of the parable, it's barely noticeable. Maybe the Narrator does really care about Stanley, and he wants to make him feel a little less alone. It doesn't really work, but kudos for trying. 

Stanley could think about all the weird things his Narrator does, he could remember all the times Narrator did something he just shouldn't be able to do, but there literally isn't anything to do. Stanley can't trigger the ending because he doesn't have the bucket, and it's not like he has a phone or anything for that matter. His only way to entertain himself would be through his lovely Narrator. 

Obviously The Narrator didn't notice that Stanley had woken up, otherwise he would have started to blab in Stanley's ear about something he doesn't care about. But what could he do to get Narrator's attention? He would have to annoy him most likely.. What if he made himself breakfast? The chances of having edible food in this house aren't exactly high, but who cares? Stanley hasn't had a proper breakfast in forever. 

But before Stanley can make himself a chemical sandwich, he notices something on his bedside table. Something he sure knows he didn't put there. The packet is written in a fancy cursive, so it's a little hard for Stanley to read after being out of practice for so long. 

Not only was a single packet of paper on top of his bedside table, but a pencil, pen, and marker were laid next to the paper. Stanley instinctively reached for the pencil, but changed his mind and went to grab the pen instead.

And as any average office worker would do , Stanley filled out the paper barely even thinking about it.

-

What are your favorite..

Scents?

lavender, peppermint, and cinnamon

Items?

the bucket

Clothing?

less constricting clothing. more airy.

Sights?

sunsets. Things you would only see in art galleries. 

Textures?

nothing rough, especially velcro. 

Animals?

ginger cats, most breeds of dogs.

Colors?

Teal and purple

Additional questions or add ons :

-

Stanley had either done tons of office work in the past or had the code of such memories to replicate that feeling, because of that his responses were short answers of whatever he could think of that would fit the question instead of thinking what might actually fit there in the context of himself. 

He had only realized he filled out the whole first page after he flipped the paper and started to answer the question on the back.

-

What do you dislike?

I think I already outlined what I don't like within the things I do.

-

Stanley writing on the back of the page barely took up any of the given space Narrator had given him. Why? Does Narrator believe Stanley hates his game? Yeah, he was sulking in his loneliness.. Yesterday? Whatever, he doesn't do that all the time!

The next page had a slightly startling question though, why would Narrator ask that? Is he so mad at Stanley he wants to berate him in person? Actually the writing looks nothing like the rest of the packet, the words look sloppily and hastily written, and the words aren't in a straight line either. They almost curve off the paper.. What the hell? 

-

how would you describe me if I had a body?

you would have references to the game in our outfits, you would dress fancier than me. I think you would look older than me, with glasses and shorter than me.

-

This packet certainly wasn't about the game, but why? Why would Narrator ask personal questions about Stanley? And ask about his theoretical body at that? Is it really that obvious that he wants another person..? .. to hold, to touch, to kiss, to hug? To love so thoroughly they couldn't remember what to be unloved felt like? No! No. Who would want to commit their life to him? Not his Narrator. 

Ok, he finished answering Narrators completely normal, game related questions. All Stanley needs to do is look around the kitchen for food, that can't be too hard right?

Stanley underestimated Narrators precautions. More than half of the cabinets felt like they were bolted shut, so if any food was in there it probably wasn't very good. Under the kitchen sink Stanley found chemicals, but also paper plates. There's glass cups in one of the upper cabinets, so Stanley had a cup of tap water and a paper plate. Delicious meal!

The fridge didn't have anything good in it, just a carton of milk, empty of course, and a ‘block’ of cheese. It felt like a brick. But hey! Maybe it's edible. Stanley placed the brick of cheese on the plate next to the glass of tap water. 

All that was left for Stanley to check was the freezer. He was expecting the freezer to be bolted shut like most of the upper cabinets, or to be virtually empty like the refrigerator. But alas, Stanley is wrong once more. Inside the freezer is.. Frozen salmon?? Not exactly a breakfast item, but neither is a block of cheese. It's not even expired yet! Not like it can expire.. Or can it? Stanley should get to figuring out how to use an oven before Narrator catches him making ‘breakfast’. 

The box instructions say… 400 degrees fahrenheit for 10-15 minutes. Is there anything quicker? Stanley skims over the box again and finds 4-6 minutes at 425 degrees fahrenheit. Stanley totally won't set his apartment on fire. 

“Stanley?” shucks. His perfect breakfast is ruined. 

“What breakfast? You have a block of cheese and uncooked salmon. From my research i'm quite sure that isn’t what humans consider ‘breakfast’” Well yeah, maybe if Narrator kept real food in here he would be able to make a proper breakfast for himself. 

“Stanley, I seriously do not trust you with cooking in any capacity.” And almost instantly after Narrator said that, all of his almost-food items disappeared. 

[ dude what the hell ] 

“Don’t call me ‘dude’. I’m your Narrator and that's it.”

[ You’re mine? ]

“Ah! Uh- no! No, not like that! I- I’m leaving ok?”

[ No wait, I wanted to tell you I finished that packet thing. ] 

“Oh. um, thank you?” 

[ Why did you make me fill out that thing? ]

“Stanley I have to go! I- i need to get going.. Bye Stanley.”

What? 

Whatever Narrator is doing must be ‘of utmost importance!’ or whatever that stupid British man says. He probably wanted all of those things Stanley likes so he could take them all away and use them as rewards for when he completes the freedom ending. Maybe Stanley should just go back to sleep?

And while Stanley debates going to sleep or not, Narrator panics for the first time in forever. Quickly he starts to write down everything that's overwhelming him to take to Curator, yes it would be an unexpected ‘therapy session’ but she probably wouldn’t mind yes? Now just what is it that's making him feel.. Like.. this!? Well for starters, there’s obviously something wrong with Stanley, or Stanley is doing something to him. He keeps spacing out while just looking at the man! It’s terribly annoying and it’s preventing him from working on his model. For 11 out of the 12 hours Stanley was sleeping Narrator was just staring at him! Secondly, Narrator needs help with basically everything he set himself up to do, and one extra thing. He has no idea how he would go about updating Stanley's model, he doesn't remember how to make his own, and he certainly has no idea how to make Food to please Stanley. What? Please Stanley? He doesn’t need to do that, why would he do that? That’s unnecessary! That's the issue! He keeps thinking in ways that benefit Stanley instead of himself, why is he doing that? Continuing, Narrator needs help with Stanley's emotions again, and maybe it will help with why he keeps acting like this around Stanley! Yes! Now he needs to just write that all down! 

Narrator spawns in a paper, and gets to ‘writing’. Or, the closest thing a bodiless god can get to writing. 

-

Things causing me distress: 

Stanley

Creating

Emotions

-

…

Is that really all that's troubling him? Those three things? Now it seems less important.. Curator can't be too busy right? And he already told Stanley he had somewhere to be.. He needs to go otherwise, he won’t be able to make Stanley happy. Ugh! 

Narrator and Curator aren't observable to the human eye, similar to how shrimp can see colors that humans can’t. Narrator and Curator can see each other, or at least, something you could call ‘seeing’. The idea of a spirit would be the best way to describe their forms to someone unable to comprehend them, Narrator looks similar to a tiger, and Curator looks similar to a deer. 

From the walls of the parable, Narrator let himself let go of it. Maybe the yellow tint grew duller, or the constant hum of the lights grew quiet, either way, Narrator Left himself essentially powerless. Quickly, he makes his way over to Curators half of the parable, however he does that. He attaches himself to Curators parable, and the blinding white walls grow a few leaves. Her area is now green. 

“Narrator.”

“Hello Curator. I- would it be alright if I stopped by for a bit?”

“Do you need more questions answered?”

“... you could say that?”

“One moment would you? I think it would be best if I brought Mariella to Stanley instead of leaving them both alone.”

“They both have their buckets don’t they?”

“Buckets don’t provide proper support to a human mind Narrator, we’ve been over this before.” 

“Right, yes. I remember now.”

“Mariella?”

“I already know, I overheard your conversation with Narrator.”

“Alright then, off with you.”

Instantaneously, Mariella was gone, and her bucket too. 

“Should I keep this short?”

“As always, however long you need. But don’t drag it out on purpose.” 

“Yes, alright. My first issue was.. Mostly with Stanley.”

“With Stanley? Was he ‘disobeying’ what you told him again? That's ninety perc-”

“No! No, not that! I- sorry for shouting. It's.. I don’t know how to explain it.. I think Stanley is doing something to me. When I’m trying to do work, I just can’t focus on anything other than him! It's annoying and I have other issues that I probably could’ve worked out if it wasn't for him.” 

“Would you mind going into more detail?” Curator had pulled out one of her physical forms and sat down on a velvet type chair. Across from her was some sort of couch like thing, Narrator assumes it's built that way in case someone decided to lie down on it. 

“Well.. when Stanley was speeding through the freedom ending, i laughed a little. I laughed because I couldn't even finish a word before he hit another cue. He turned a bit red and sped up a little. You told me usually when people get mad they get a little red in the face?”

“Yes, I did say that,” she laughed a little, “but you know I said usually. Stanley wasn't mad at you, and what does this have to do with what you were stating before?”

“Aren’t they the same feeling?”

“No? What I'm sure you were experiencing in that moment was embarrassment. What you’re feeling when you can't stop thinking about Stanley.. I have an idea but I don't believe it's refined enough to share with you.” 

“Can't you just tell me now?”

“I’m afraid not. Come back when you have more cut and dry reasons to why Stanley is doing something to you. Alright?”

“Yes I will. But I had other questions I was hoping you could answer, or help me with?”

“Help you with? Help you with what? I thought you were some big-shot who never needed help.”

“I've never stated something like that before.”

“Of course you haven’t. What's the issue?”

“Well.. I wanted to make a new avatar. One to match the new one you've been using?”

“Yes? The issue?”

“I can’t exactly remember how to model.. And while I was using a tutorial I got distracted with Stanley and… I never started the model.” 

“Hilarious. Sure I can help you with that, if you show me where you conduct your work.”

“You know where I work, don’t you?”

“I haven't been in your side of the parable for who knows how long.”

“Right, yes. um- there was one more thing? Is that alright?”

“Yes brother, get on with it.”

“Do you think you could have more talks about emotions with me? Since I horribly mis-interpreted what Stanley was feeling earlier, I think it would be best if we had those sessions more often.”

“Of course. I was planning on bumping up the number of those meets, I just don't know how to bring it up with you. Come again soon!”

“Yes I will! Bye Curator!”

Narrator detached himself from Curator's side of the parable, and was left in the void once again. He followed the sound of Mariella speaking, and found her talking to Stanley about random nonsense. He reattached himself to Stanley's apartment, and took control over his area once again.

[ Hi Narrator. ]

“What? How can you tell Narrator is back?” Mariella was a bit confused, because really, how did Stanley know Narrator was back? She hadn't heard a single noise from the man when he supposedly came back. It's odd when Stanley points out things like that. 

[ it doesn't matter. I’m sure you'll be able to do it with Curator sooner than later. ] 

“Yeah right, I'm sure one day soon Curator will be completely fed up with me and send me back to wherever I came from.”

[ Yes ok, mope over the fact Curator definitely hates you. Can your girlfriend come get you now?] 

“What!? She is not my girlfriend! How about i-” sadly, before Mariella could finish her sentence, Curator took her back to her side of the parable.

“Hello Stanley..”

[ You wanna tell me why you were in such a hurry earlier? ] 

“No. How about we do a run through of the story? Wait- actually no, we can't.”

[ Since we apparently can't run through the story right now, can you tell me why you made me fill out that packet earlier? ] 

“Uhm! No.. because… it's a surprise! Ok? I needed insight for the surprise.”

[ Yeah that's definitely what that was. Did you update the computers? ] 

“Oh. I might've.. Forgotten to do that?”

[ I was asleep for like 12 hours!? Why didn't you update the computers? ] Stanley can't exactly shout through his thoughts or hands, but he definitely looked angry. Narrator felt.. Fear. yes, he was fearful of his protagonist. Silly isn't it? To fear someone who has no power over you. 

[ Narrator? I'm sorry if i upset you. ] what? Oh dear, he must've stayed silent far too long. Usually in this situation he would reset the game and pretend it never happened, but here he can't do that. What should he do? Panic of course, silly you!

“I- why are you sorry? I messed this up! I'm so sorry Stanley.. I- i'll get working on it now ok? Would you rather stay in here or go to the zen room? Actually- no- no sorry, i know you wouldn't want to go into the zen room. I'm sorry.” 

[ dude calm yourself-

“STOP! Calling me that. I am not your ‘dude’. Never will i EVER. be that.” Narrator felt that was the easier way to get out of being a depressed grumpy old man.

[ ok chill damn. I'm fine here or in the zen room, but if you bring me to the zen room can you make sure i'm not just sitting on hard concrete for who knows how long? ] 

‘Yes of course? Why would I just leave you there with nothing, it's not like we’re running through the story. I think I have a plan, but I'd like to run it by you first, alright?’

[ shoot. ]

“First, don't ever say that again you are not the type of person to be saying that. Second, I think while you're in here I'll find the most perfect computer and monitor model bundle, I'll use those and program a working computer into it, then I'll copy the code and place it where the old computer models would have been. Third, I'll reset the game, you'll test the models and we'll be all done!” 

[ All of that sounds great, except the first part, but what about the ‘surprise’ you mentioned earlier? When will you get to work on that? ] 

“Oh! For the first time you have truly good input! Im.. im not sure where i would fit in the time to work on that. I could work on it during our breaks, but you only call for those when you really need them. I cant rely on such spontaneous breaks because of how long they could last and how sparsely you initiate them yourself. “

[ It's not like you initiate them much yourself. What about those random ‘meetings’ you need to have with the Curator? Can’t you work on it then instead of meeting her? ] 

“No.. those are very important. It's not like you would understand..” 

[ Ok, so when? There's literally no other time to work on your ‘surprise’ other than the times we've listed. ] 

“We could reserve a new time for me to work on it? How about every.. 10 resets?”

[ We don't run through the game enough for that to work. I think five would be better. ] 

“Alright then, five resets it is. Do you need something before I get to work?”

[ no, i think i'm just going to go back to sleep. ] 

“Again? Are you even able to sleep again this quickly?”

[ i didn't even know i could sleep until a few hours ago, so it's not like my body has to abide by the laws of the average human one. ] 

“I guess you're correct. Goodnight Stanley.”

[ you're not even gonna wait until I'm in my bed? ] 

“No. Goodnight.”

Stanley went back to sleep, only having woken up a few hours earlier. Mariella and Curator continued their version of the parable, and Narrator continues to watch Stanley sleep, which wasn't creepy at all. Thankfully he was able to remember his Conversation with Curator and finish doing the models! He waited to update them for when Stanley woke up, so for now, he would figure out how to code working food, or find a work around, so Stanley can have a proper breakfast. Maybe while Stanley sleeps, he'll snoop around in his dreams again because he already forgot what went down last time.