**EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND TWO**
**THE STORY THAT REMEMBERED THE READER**
**RECOVERED MATERIAL // STATUS: IMPOSSIBLE**
FILE NAME: NOVA_102
LOCATION: UNKNOWN
DATE: BEFORE THE BEGINNING
TIME: 03:21
SUBJECT: THE READER
---
[RECORDING BEGINS]
There is no image.
Only sound.
A page turning.
Then another.
Then another.
Then...
silence.
A voice speaks.
Not Nova.
Not the Author.
Not the Reader.
Something older.
«"Begin."»
A second voice answers:
«"Where?"»
The first voice:
«"Anywhere."»
The second:
«"There is no anywhere."»
The first:
«"Then create one."»
A pencil touches paper.
---
[PAGE ZERO]
The first thing created was not a world.
It was an absence.
A blank space.
The absence waited.
It did not move.
It did not breathe.
It did not think.
Until someone looked at it.
The instant it was observed...
it became something.
Not a person.
Not a place.
A possibility.
The possibility asked:
WHO AM I?
And that was the first question.
Not Nova's.
Not the Author's.
Not the Reader's.
The first.
The question waited for an answer.
None came.
So it created one.
A boy.
---
[RECORDING INTERRUPTED]
03:21
Nova woke up.
He was not in the hospital.
He was not on a page.
He was not in the white room.
He was standing in a cinema.
An enormous one.
Rows of empty seats stretched into darkness.
A screen occupied the entire wall.
Nova looked at it.
The screen showed...
him.
Standing in the cinema.
Nova stared.
On the screen, the other Nova stared back.
Then the screen-Nova raised his hand.
Real Nova did not.
The image did.
It pointed behind him.
Nova slowly turned.
Nothing.
He looked back at the screen.
The screen-Nova was gone.
A sentence had replaced him.
YOU ARE WATCHING THE WRONG SIDE.
Nova frowned.
He walked toward the screen.
The closer he came, the larger it became.
Until...
he stepped through it.
---
[SCENE UNKNOWN]
Nova landed in a room filled with photographs.
Thousands.
Millions.
Every photograph showed him.
Nova as a child.
Nova as an adult.
Nova dying.
Nova being born.
Nova sleeping.
Nova writing.
Nova reading.
Nova standing beside people he remembered.
People he had forgotten.
People who had never existed.
One photograph stopped him.
He picked it up.
It showed Nova sitting in the same cinema.
Behind him stood...
the Reader.
Nova turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting.
THIS WAS TAKEN BEFORE YOU ARRIVED.
Nova whispered:
"How?"
A second photograph appeared on the table.
He picked it up.
This one showed the same room.
But Nova was not in it.
The Reader was.
The Reader was looking directly at the camera.
Underneath:
THIS WAS TAKEN AFTER YOU LEFT.
Nova's expression changed.
He looked at the first photograph.
Then the second.
Then the empty room.
"What am I supposed to understand?"
A voice answered.
"Nothing."
Nova turned.
The boy stood beside the photographs.
The Question.
The First Memory.
The boy who had existed before Nova.
Nova had stopped asking his name.
Now he asked something else.
"Why do you keep appearing?"
The boy shrugged.
"Because you keep forgetting me."
"I remember you."
"No."
The boy picked up a photograph.
"You remember the idea of me."
He tore the photograph in half.
Nova watched.
The torn pieces continued moving.
The image repaired itself.
The boy smiled.
"Memory isn't remembering."
"What is it?"
"Choosing what survives."
Nova looked at the photographs.
"And what did I choose?"
The boy's smile disappeared.
"Me."
---
[FILE NOTE]
THE SUBJECT HAS BEGUN TO REMEMBER THE WRONG THING.
---
Nova stared at the boy.
"What did I choose?"
The boy answered:
"You chose to forget that you were the Reader."
Nova felt the room tilt.
"But why?"
"Because being the Reader hurt."
"Why?"
"Because you discovered something."
"What?"
The boy pointed toward the photographs.
Nova looked.
Every photograph began changing.
They no longer showed Nova.
They showed other people.
Archer.
Milo.
Diana.
The First Reader.
The Author.
The nurse.
The banana.
Every character he had encountered.
But now Nova noticed something.
They were all holding pencils.
Every one.
Nova whispered:
"They were all Readers."
The boy nodded.
"No."
Nova looked again.
"They were all writing."
The boy nodded.
"No."
Nova turned.
"Then what?"
The boy said:
"They were all trying to remember who they were before they became characters."
Nova stepped backward.
The photographs fell.
Every image landed face-up.
Every face looked toward him.
Every mouth opened.
And every photograph spoke simultaneously.
«"WE REMEMBER YOU."»
Nova covered his ears.
"Stop!"
The voices continued.
«"WE REMEMBER YOU."»
"STOP!"
«"WE REMEMBER YOU."»
Nova screamed:
"I DON'T KNOW YOU!"
Silence.
Every photograph went black.
The boy whispered:
"That is why you created us."
Nova looked at him.
"What?"
"You couldn't remember yourself."
The boy pointed at Nova's chest.
"So you created people who could remember for you."
---
[RECORDING: 03:21:04]
A new object appeared.
A small metal box.
Nova opened it.
Inside was a cassette.
No label.
He inserted it into a machine that had not been there a moment earlier.
Static.
Then...
Nova's voice.
Younger.
Frightened.
«"If you're hearing this, I failed."»
Nova froze.
The recording continued.
«"Don't trust the Author."»
Static.
«"Don't trust the Reader."»
Static.
«"Don't trust me."»
Nova stepped closer.
The younger voice whispered:
«"Most importantly…"»
The tape distorted.
«"Don't trust the question."»
The recording stopped.
Nova stared at the machine.
The boy looked worried.
Nova asked:
"Who recorded that?"
The boy answered:
"You."
"When?"
"Before you became Nova."
Nova looked at the cassette.
"What was I trying to warn myself about?"
The boy did not answer.
Nova pressed PLAY again.
Static.
Then his younger voice returned.
But this time...
it was laughing.
«"If you've reached this recording…"»
A pause.
«"…then the Reader has already found you."»
Nova stopped breathing.
The voice continued:
«"And if the Reader has found you…"»
The tape began slowing.
«"…then there is only one thing left to discover."»
Nova leaned closer.
"What?"
The tape whispered:
«"Why the Reader is afraid of you."»
---
[SYSTEM MESSAGE]
THE READER HAS ENTERED THE STORY.
---
Everything stopped.
The photographs.
The machine.
The boy.
The air.
Even Nova's breathing.
A door appeared.
Not ahead.
Not behind.
Inside the wall.
Nova walked toward it.
There was no handle.
Only a sentence.
KNOCK.
Nova raised his hand.
He knocked.
Once.
Nothing.
Twice.
Nothing.
Three times.
The door opened.
---
[THE ROOM OF UNREAD BOOKS]
Books covered the walls.
But these books were different.
None had been opened.
None had been read.
Every cover carried a name.
Names Nova knew.
Names he didn't.
Some were crossed out.
Some were burned.
Some were still blank.
At the center of the room sat a single person.
The Reader.
Nova stopped.
"You."
The Reader looked up.
This time there was no shifting face.
No mystery.
No impossible appearance.
Just a tired human being.
The Reader closed the book.
"I was wondering when you'd arrive."
Nova walked closer.
"You're afraid of me."
The Reader did not answer.
"You are."
Silence.
"Why?"
The Reader looked toward the shelves.
"Because you remember."
"Remember what?"
The Reader whispered:
"The first time you read me."
Nova frowned.
"I've never read you."
"Yes."
The Reader smiled sadly.
"You forgot."
Nova looked at the books.
"Which one is yours?"
The Reader pointed.
A black book slid from the shelf.
It landed at Nova's feet.
The title appeared.
THE READER
Nova opened it.
The first page:
A BOY FOUND A BLANK PAGE.
Second:
THE BOY ASKED A QUESTION.
Third:
THE QUESTION CREATED A READER.
Fourth:
THE READER BECAME A WRITER.
Fifth:
THE WRITER CREATED A CHARACTER.
Nova turned the page.
THE CHARACTER WAS NOVA.
He looked at the Reader.
"That's my story."
"No."
The Reader pointed to the next page.
Nova turned it.
A new sentence appeared.
NOVA CREATED THE READER.
Nova stared.
"That can't be."
The Reader nodded.
"It happened."
"How?"
The Reader leaned forward.
"You wanted someone to witness your existence."
Nova said nothing.
"So you imagined a Reader."
"But then who imagined me?"
The Reader answered:
"You did."
Nova looked at the book.
The words were changing.
THE READER CREATED NOVA.
Then:
NOVA CREATED THE READER.
Then:
THE READER CREATED NOVA.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Faster.
The pages began turning by themselves.
Nova grabbed the book.
"Stop!"
The Reader stood.
"You can't stop it."
"Why?"
"Because you're looking for a beginning."
Nova stared.
"Yes."
The Reader shook their head.
"There isn't one."
Nova's voice became quiet.
"Then why does everything keep saying there is?"
The Reader answered:
"Because beginnings are easier to live with than responsibility."
Nova froze.
"What responsibility?"
The Reader looked directly at him.
"You asked the first question."
Nova's heart stopped.
"No."
"You did."
"When?"
"Before the boy."
"Which boy?"
The Reader whispered:
"All of them."
---
[RECORDING TERMINATED]
For exactly seven seconds...
nothing existed.
Then a single sentence appeared.
Not on a page.
Not on a screen.
Not in a book.
Across reality itself.
NOVA ASKED THE FIRST QUESTION.
A second sentence followed.
THE FIRST QUESTION CREATED THE STORY.
A third.
THE STORY CREATED THE READER.
A fourth.
THE READER CREATED NOVA.
Then the final line:
SO WHO CREATED THE FIRST QUESTION?
Nova stared.
The Reader stared.
The boy appeared between them.
Even the banana emerged from beneath a shelf.
Nobody spoke.
Because the answer was already appearing.
One letter at a time.
Y
O
U
Nova stepped backward.
"No."
The word completed itself.
YOU.
Nova shook his head.
"I couldn't."
The boy looked at him.
"You did."
"I was never here."
"You were."
"I wasn't Nova."
"No."
"I wasn't the Author."
"No."
"I wasn't the Reader."
The boy smiled.
"No."
Nova's voice trembled.
"Then who was I?"
The boy answered:
"The person who wanted to know."
Nova closed his eyes.
And suddenly...
he remembered.
Not a childhood.
Not a hospital.
Not a book.
Not a universe.
A moment.
A blank page.
A lonely room.
A hand holding a pencil.
And a voice...
his own...
asking:
"Is anyone there?"
The first question.
The first sound.
The first desire to be heard.
The first Reader.
The first story.
All of it began there.
Not with creation.
With loneliness.
Nova opened his eyes.
The Reader was crying.
Nova looked at them.
"You heard me."
The Reader nodded.
"Before there was a story."
"Yes."
"Before there was Nova."
"Yes."
"Before there was an Author."
"Yes."
Nova whispered:
"You were the one who answered."
The Reader shook their head.
"No."
Nova frowned.
"Then who answered?"
The Reader pointed toward the blank space behind Nova.
Nova turned.
Nobody was there.
Only a sentence.
I DID.
Nova stared.
The sentence changed.
I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE.
Then:
I AM THE QUESTION YOU ASKED YOURSELF.
Nova's face went pale.
The boy whispered:
"Now you know."
Nova slowly turned toward him.
"What?"
The boy smiled.
"Why the story never let you finish."
The Reader picked up the black book.
The pages began burning without flame.
Nova stepped forward.
"What happens now?"
The Reader looked at him.
"Now we stop trying to find the first page."
Nova frowned.
"Then what do we do?"
The Reader handed him the pencil.
"We find the last question."
Nova took it.
"How many questions are left?"
The Reader looked toward the darkness.
"Eighteen."
Nova counted silently.
Episode 102.
Eighteen.
He understood.
The ending was no longer somewhere impossibly far away.
It had a shape.
A destination.
A final page.
Nova tightened his grip on the pencil.
"Then let's finish it."
The Reader smiled.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
The Reader pointed toward the door.
Someone was standing there.
A figure Nova had never seen before.
A figure carrying...
the original manuscript.
The one marked:
THE FIRST STORY
The figure lifted it.
Opened to the final page.
And read aloud:
«"NOVA MUST DIE BEFORE THE READER CAN LIVE."»
Nova went still.
The boy began crying.
The Reader dropped the pencil.
And somewhere beyond the room...
the Author laughed.
Not because something was funny.
Because the Author had finally understood the ending.
Nova looked at the figure.
"Who are you?"
The figure closed the manuscript.
"I am the first character you ever killed."
Nova's blood turned cold.
"You don't remember me."
The figure smiled.
"I know."
A pause.
"That's why I survived."
The lights went out.
And in the darkness...
something enormous opened its eyes.
**TO BE CONTINUED…**
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :Maximus.
©All Rights Reserved