A report from a space observer: final analysis of the "Otherworld" project, register of system destabilization and the first events after crossing the synchronization point
Every experiment comes to an end. However, not everyone allows their participants to return to the world they came from.
Dziewiąta trwa wciąż.
Drzwi znikają za nami.
Czas rusza bez nas.
Start of Saving [Otherworld Project]
The professor was right.
This has happened more and more often recently.
Not because he suddenly started thinking like me. I didn't start thinking like him either. That would be extremely ineffective. Two identical perspectives don't create a new quality. They create confirmation.
We remained different.
The professor needed history. Cause, effect, sequence of events. He had to know what came before and what came after that came after. I was looking for patterns. Repetitiveness. Anomalies. Elements that didn't fit in with the others.
He was looking at the road.
I on the arrangement of points.
And yet, more and more often we came to the same place.
And this turned out to be the biggest mistake of the project.
Not ours.
Theirs.
What the Creators Were Really Afraid of
All along, we assumed that Otherworld was to explore the possibility of understanding between different species. Man and a space autistic. Emotionality and analysis. Two ways of perceiving reality, which, according to the project's assumptions, should generate misunderstandings, conflicts and subsequent crises.
Now I understood that agreement was never the goal.
It was a risk.
The creators needed a difference that could be measured. They needed a tension that could be observed. They needed our communication errors, misunderstandings, frustrations, and separation, because that's when they kept control of the experiment.
They did not foresee only one thing.
That the difference does not have to disappear for closeness to arise.
The professor was still a professor.
I was still myself.
We did not need to unify.
We have learned ourselves.
That was enough.
Breakup
The first photograph fell off the wall seconds after the professor grabbed my arm again.
Then the second.
The third.
Others began to break away faster and faster. Some hit the floor. Others disappeared into thin air, breaking up into tiny points of light.
The other participants got up from their seats.
The observer looked at the walls.
"It has begun.
"What exactly?" The professor asked.
"The system is trying to close the variant.
I found this phrase interesting.
Not to "destroy".
Not to "stop".
Close.
Like a file.
Like a program.
Like a story that has reached a point after which it should no longer be written.
The light flickered.
The floor trembled.
And then one of the windows disappeared.
It didn't crash.
It was just there for a moment, and a second later the wall was completely smooth.
The professor looked at me.
"Maga...
"I see."
The second window disappeared a moment later.
The system did not destroy the house.
The system removed its elements.
Those who stay
"You must go," said one of the other Mages.
I looked at her.
"Everyone.
She shook her head.
"No.
"Why?"
This time the gray-haired professor answered.
"Because it wasn't us who opened the passage.
He pointed to me and the professor.
"You."
The professor looked around at the crowd.
"We will not leave you here.
This was a very characteristic reaction of the professor. A person learns that reality is about to cease to exist, and his first problem is that others may not be able to get out.
I was beginning to understand why the system had labeled it as the most defective copy.
I smiled.
The professor noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing.
"Maga."
"I'll tell you later."
There was no time to explain to him that his "flaw" was beginning to seem to me the most interesting feature of the whole project.
Final instruction
The observer approached us.
"When you pass, you may lose your bearings. Places may not match. Time may not agree. Don't trust what you see first.
The professor frowned.
"And what should we trust?"
The observer looked into our wide-open eyes.
"To that which will remain permanent.
We already knew that.
Not the place.
Not the date.
Not a memory.
Report.
If the Creators could change the environment, reset the memory, and create more variants of reality, we had to need a point of reference that they didn't control.
Apparently, we have just found it.
The End of Otherworld
The door leading to the outside still existed.
That was enough.
The professor pressed the doorknob.
Behind them there should be a garden, a gate, a road and a forest through which the Observer brought us.
There was none of these things.
There was light.
Not dazzling. Not supernatural. Ordinary morning light.
We took a step.
Then the second.
I turned around.
For a few seconds I could still see the room. The table. The other magicians. The professors. The observer.
One of the Mages raised her hand.
I did the same.
The door closed.
And then they disappeared.
Behind us was the wall of the tenement house.
The Otherworld project has just ceased to exist.
Back
We were standing on the pavement.
A bus passed in front of us.
Someone was leaving the bakery with a paper bag. The man was leading a dog. The woman was talking on the phone. The cyclist almost hit a passerby who entered the path without looking.
The professor did not say anything for a long time.
Then he let the air out.
"We're back.
I wanted to believe him.
Really.
Even the smell of the city was right. Exhaust fumes. Bread. Damp pavement. Perfume of a woman who had just passed us.
Everything was ordinary.
But ordinariness can also be an anomaly.
Especially if it is too accurate.
The first mistake
We moved forward.
After a few dozen meters, I noticed a clock above the entrance to the bank.
9:00.
I wouldn't have paid much attention to it if a moment later the electronic board at the bus stop hadn't shown the same time.
9:00.
I took out my phone.
9:00.
The professor did the same.
We looked at each other.
"Network synchronization?" He offered.
"Possibly.
We passed a café.
The clock hanging above the bar showed 9:00.
On the phone screen of the man sitting by the window, I saw 9:00.
On the watch of the woman passing by us as well.
9:00.
The professor stopped looking for a rational explanation.
That was reasonable.
Second mistake
"Which one is today?" I asked the woman standing by the pedestrian crossing.
She looked at me.
"Am I listening?"
"What is today's date?"
Her face did not express surprise.
She expressed a lack of recognition.
As if I were using a word she had never heard before.
"It's nine," she finally answered.
The professor stiffened.
The woman smiled kindly and walked away.
We watched her for a moment.
"Let's ask someone else," he said.
We asked.
The man with the dog replied:
"Nine."
Kiosk Vendor:
"Nine."
Elderly Woman:
"It's nine o'clock.
No one knew the date.
What is more worrying, no one was surprised.
Third mistake
We sat down in a café.
I needed a moment to sort out the information. The professor obviously needed coffee.
The waiter brought two cups.
"We'll ask for a bill," said the professor.
The waiter looked at him confused.
"A bill?"
The professor looked at me.
"Yes. How much do we pay?"
The waiter smiled.
"It's nine.
He left.
The professor looked at him for a long time.
"I'm starting to dislike nine.
"You used to like full hours.
"I'm withdrawing."
That made me laugh.
And that's when I noticed something else.
The professor's coffee did not cool down.
The world after the experiment
We sat at the table for more than twenty minutes.
At least that was what I had to say about my subjective feeling.
The coffee continued to evaporate.
People were passing down the street, but after a while I began to recognize the same people.
The man with the dog appeared for the third time.
Woman with paper bag second.
The same bus passed in front of the café at the exact same moment that the waiter put the glass on the table by the window.
I looked at the professor.
He has already noticed it too.
"A loop?"
"I don't know.
"I really don't like it when you don't know.
"I'm also starting to notice that people feel less comfortable then.
Reference point
The professor stretched his hand across the table.
I touched his hand.
The environment changed immediately.
Not spectacularly.
For a split second.
The sounds of the café died down. People froze. The light became flat.
And on the window in front of us, words appeared.
VARIANT 9 - STABLE
The professor read them at the same time as me.
Then the inscription disappeared.
The café came to life again.
A man with a dog walked in front of the window for the fourth time.
"Did you see?"
"Yes.
"Good.
"Why is it good?"
"Because it means I don't have hallucinations.
The professor thought for a moment.
"This is a very low threshold for good news.
He was right.
Something was waiting before
We left the café.
We didn't know where to go, so we went ahead. For the first time since the beginning of our acquaintance, neither of us was leading.
And then I saw a bookstore.
I don't know why I didn't notice it earlier.
It was small, old, squeezed between modern windows. It looked as if it had been in this place much longer than all the buildings around it.
There was one book lying in the window.
I came closer.
The professor stood next to me.
There were no illustrations on the cover.
Just the title.
OTHERWORLD
Below were two names.
Mine.
And the professor.
Last record of the project
The professor opened the door of the bookstore.
There was no one inside.
On the counter lay a second copy of the book.
I opened it.
I knew the first pages.
Sighting of object F #2203.
Square.
Headphones.
A professor hiding behind people.
Our first conversation.
Box.
Archive.
Variants.
Home.
Everything.
The professor turned the pages faster and faster.
"Who wrote it?"
I didn't answer.
We have reached the last saved page.
There was our conversation from a few minutes ago.
Exactly.
Word for word.
The professor stopped turning the pages.
There are still a few hundred blank pages left.
On the next one, letters were just appearing.
We watched how the sentence wrote itself.
The Otherworld project was successfully completed.
A second line appeared below.
Variant 9 accepted for further observation.
The professor looked at me.
Then came the last sentence.
Welcome to the AFTER project.
Final note
For a while, nothing happened.
Then we heard the doorbell ringing.
Someone entered the bookstore.
We turned around.
A little girl was standing in the doorway.
She was just looking at me.
Not for a professor.
On me.
She came closer and held out her hand.
She was holding a metal box.
The same as ours.
"A magician?" She asked.
"Yes.
The girl breathed a sigh of relief.
"Good. So this time I made it.
The professor looked at me.
I am on it.
"With what?" I asked.
The girl placed the box on top of the open book.
The lights in the bookstore went out.
And all the clocks in the city started for the first time.
9:01.
The girl looked at me and said:
"We need to find Lilith before she remembers who she really is.
End of the OTHERWORLD project.
The beginning of the project AFTER.
CDN...
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