**EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SIX**
**THE STORY THAT BEGAN WITHOUT A WRITER**
There are moments when a person realizes that the world is watching them.
Nova had experienced that feeling before.
This was different.
This time, the world wasn't watching.
It was waiting.
---
The child stood in front of him.
Barefoot.
Small.
Smiling.
Too calmly for someone who had just claimed to be humanity.
Nova stared at him.
"Who taught you that word?"
The child tilted his head.
"You did."
"I don't remember."
"You wouldn't."
"Why?"
"Because you haven't taught me yet."
Nova said nothing.
The child walked past him.
That was when Nova noticed something strange.
There was no floor.
The child was walking on something that looked like darkness, but each time his foot touched it, a faint image appeared beneath him.
A city.
A forest.
A battlefield.
A classroom.
A hospital.
A kitchen.
A bedroom.
A planet.
Then they vanished.
Nova followed.
"Where are we going?"
"Home."
"Where is home?"
The child looked over his shoulder.
"Before you."
Nova stopped.
The child continued walking.
And for the first time since the beginning of the impossible, Nova became afraid of a simple word.
Before.
---
They entered a house.
It was ordinary.
Almost painfully ordinary.
There was a wooden table.
Two chairs.
A window.
A clock.
A bookshelf.
A cup beside a sink.
Rain against the glass.
Nova looked around.
"I've seen this place."
The child sat at the table.
"No."
Nova frowned.
"I have."
"You've seen the memory of this place."
"What's the difference?"
The child pointed at the chair opposite him.
"Sit."
Nova sat.
The clock on the wall showed 03:48.
The second hand wasn't moving.
Nova waited.
Nothing.
"Why isn't the clock working?"
"It isn't a clock."
"Then what is it?"
"A decision."
Nova looked at him.
The child smiled.
"Every second you're waiting for it to move, you're choosing not to leave."
Nova stood.
The clock moved.
03:49.
He froze.
The child laughed.
"See?"
"You knew that would happen."
"I remember it."
"You were never here."
"I was."
"When?"
The child pointed toward Nova.
"Inside you."
Nova felt the room become colder.
---
The bookshelf suddenly changed.
The books rearranged themselves.
Titles appeared on their spines.
THE FIRST HUMAN MEMORY.
THE LAST HUMAN MEMORY.
THE DAY LANGUAGE WAS INVENTED.
THE DAY LANGUAGE WAS FORGOTTEN.
THE PERSON WHO NEVER EXISTED.
THE PERSON WHO REMEMBERED EVERYONE.
And one book with no title.
Nova reached for it.
The child slapped his hand away.
"Don't."
"Why?"
"That one hasn't happened."
Nova looked at the blank cover.
"Then why is it here?"
The child whispered:
"Because you're going to write it."
Nova stared at him.
"I don't write anymore."
The child smiled.
"That's what you think."
---
The house disappeared.
Nova was standing in a city.
Thousands of people moved around him.
Cars passed.
Children ran.
People argued.
Someone laughed.
A woman carried groceries.
A man spoke into a phone.
A dog barked.
Everything was normal.
Except nobody had faces.
Nova walked through the crowd.
"Why can't I see their faces?"
The child appeared beside him.
"Because you haven't decided who they are."
"They're people."
"Are they?"
Nova stopped.
One faceless man bumped into him.
"Sorry," the man said.
Nova turned.
The voice sounded familiar.
"Who are you?"
The man continued walking.
"I don't know."
Nova followed him.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know."
"Where do you live?"
"I don't know."
"What do you remember?"
The man stopped.
Slowly, he turned.
And for one second...
he had Nova's face.
"I remember being someone."
Then his face disappeared again.
He walked away.
Nova watched him vanish into the crowd.
The child spoke quietly.
"That's humanity."
Nova looked at him.
"What?"
"Millions of people trying to remember who they were before someone gave them a name."
---
A bell rang.
Everyone stopped.
Every person in the city turned toward Nova.
Their faceless heads lifted simultaneously.
The child whispered:
"Don't answer."
Nova heard a voice behind him.
"Nova."
He didn't move.
"Nova."
The voice became closer.
"Nova."
Nova closed his eyes.
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Then:
"That's the wrong question."
Nova opened his eyes.
The city was empty.
No people.
No buildings.
No roads.
Only a door.
Standing alone in the middle of nothing.
It was the same door.
Question Zero.
But this time there was no warning.
No First Listener.
No system.
No voice telling him not to open it.
Just the door.
Nova approached.
His hand touched the handle.
It was warm.
Human.
He opened it.
---
Behind the door was a bedroom.
A very small bedroom.
There was a bed.
A window.
A wooden desk.
A pencil.
And a boy.
Six years old.
The same boy.
The beginning.
Nova stopped breathing.
The boy was writing.
Nova walked closer.
"What are you writing?"
The boy didn't look up.
"Your name."
Nova looked at the paper.
It was blank.
"You haven't written anything."
"I know."
"Then how can you be writing my name?"
The boy smiled.
"I'm waiting for you to tell me."
Nova sat beside him.
"What should I tell you?"
The boy handed him the pencil.
"Your real name."
Nova looked at it.
"Nova."
The boy shook his head.
"That's the name you were given."
"Then what is my real name?"
The boy leaned closer.
"You don't have one."
Nova stared.
"Everyone has a name."
"Not at the beginning."
"Then who named me Nova?"
The boy looked toward the window.
Someone was standing outside.
A silhouette.
Watching them.
Nova stood.
"Who is that?"
The boy whispered:
"The first person."
Nova walked toward the window.
The silhouette disappeared.
Nova opened the window.
Rain entered the room.
There was nobody outside.
Only a sheet of paper lying on the ground.
Nova picked it up.
One sentence was written on it:
I DIDN'T CREATE YOU.
Nova turned it over.
Nothing.
Then another sentence appeared.
I REMEMBERED YOU.
---
"Who?"
The voice came from behind him.
Nova turned.
The boy was gone.
The room was empty.
Except for a woman sitting on the bed.
The First Listener.
She looked younger than before.
Much younger.
Almost the same age as Nova.
"You're back," Nova said.
"I never left."
"You've been lying to me."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because the truth was listening."
Nova looked around.
"Where is the child?"
"He went where all first questions go."
"Where?"
She pointed toward the floor.
"Down."
The floor opened.
Nova saw an endless staircase.
No walls.
No railing.
Only steps descending into darkness.
The First Listener stood.
"You're going down."
Nova looked at her.
"You're not coming?"
"I already did."
"What did you find?"
She hesitated.
"Humanity."
"And?"
She looked at him with sadness.
"Humanity was looking back."
---
Nova descended.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
There were no numbers.
No clocks.
No sounds.
But after the hundredth step, Nova heard voices.
After the thousandth, he heard memories.
After the millionth, he heard himself.
Not one Nova.
Thousands.
Millions.
Every version speaking simultaneously.
"I was born."
"I was written."
"I was remembered."
"I was imagined."
"I was abandoned."
"I was loved."
"I was killed."
"I survived."
"I began."
"I ended."
Then one voice became clear.
His own.
"I was never first."
Nova stopped.
A voice answered from below.
"No."
Nova looked down.
"Then who was?"
The answer came softly.
"You."
Nova frowned.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to."
"Explain."
"You keep looking for the first version of yourself."
Nova continued downward.
"Yes."
"You won't find him."
"Why?"
"Because there was no first version."
Nova stopped again.
"Then what am I?"
The darkness answered:
"You're the version that remembers looking for one."
---
At the bottom of the staircase was a room.
Unlike everything else Nova had seen, it was completely ordinary.
A man sat at a desk.
He was writing.
Nova approached slowly.
The man didn't look up.
"Who are you?"
The man continued writing.
"I've been waiting for you."
"Everyone says that."
"Because everyone remembers you arriving."
Nova looked at the papers scattered across the desk.
They contained stories.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Every story had the same protagonist.
Nova.
But some stories were written in languages he didn't recognize.
Others weren't written in human language at all.
One appeared to be made entirely of mathematical symbols.
Another consisted of drawings.
Another contained only silence.
Nova picked one up.
The man finally looked at him.
"Don't read that."
"Why?"
"Because that is the story in which you read this story."
Nova dropped the page.
The man smiled.
"Now you understand."
"No."
"You will."
"Are you the Author?"
The man shook his head.
"Do you know the Author?"
"No."
"Does the Reader know the Author?"
"No."
"Then why do you keep calling someone the Author?"
Nova had no answer.
The man pointed at the chair.
"Sit."
Nova didn't.
"What is Question Zero?"
The man stopped writing.
For the first time, fear appeared in his eyes.
"Who told you about that?"
"The First Listener."
"Then she remembers."
"Remembers what?"
The man stood.
"The first mistake."
Nova waited.
The man whispered:
"Humanity was never created."
Nova frowned.
"Then what happened?"
"We imagined ourselves."
"Who is we?"
The man looked directly at him.
"That's the mistake."
---
The room shook.
The desk disappeared.
The walls disappeared.
The man disappeared.
Nova stood alone.
Then a voice came from everywhere.
Not cosmic.
Not mechanical.
Not divine.
Human.
Painfully human.
"Nova."
He closed his eyes.
"Yes?"
"Why did you come back?"
"I was looking for the beginning."
"Did you find it?"
"No."
"Good."
Nova opened his eyes.
"Why good?"
"Because beginnings are dangerous."
"Why?"
"Because every beginning creates a responsibility."
Nova looked around.
"Responsibility for what?"
The voice answered:
"Everything that comes after."
---
A light appeared.
Nova saw a hospital room.
A woman was lying in a bed.
A newborn baby rested beside her.
The woman looked exhausted.
But she was smiling.
Someone stood beside her.
Nova couldn't see the person's face.
The woman whispered:
"What should we call him?"
The person answered:
"Nova."
Nova froze.
"No."
The scene continued.
The woman looked at the baby.
"Nova."
The baby opened his eyes.
Nova watched himself being named.
But something was wrong.
He could see another figure standing behind the hospital room.
A child.
The six-year-old boy.
Watching.
The boy looked directly at Nova.
Then he raised the red pencil.
And wrote something on the wall.
Nova stepped closer.
Three words.
THIS ISN'T FIRST.
The hospital vanished.
---
Nova was back in the empty theater.
But the seats were gone.
The stage was gone.
There was only one spotlight.
And beneath it...
a chair.
On the chair sat the Reader.
Nova stopped.
"You."
The Reader looked up.
"I've been here."
"You knew."
"I knew some things."
"You knew about Question Zero."
"I knew there was something I wasn't supposed to remember."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
The Reader smiled sadly.
"Because you would have asked."
"Asked what?"
"The question."
Nova stepped closer.
"What question?"
The Reader looked straight into his eyes.
"Whether you are real."
Nova's expression changed.
The Reader continued.
"That's the question humans eventually ask."
"And the answer?"
"I don't know."
"You're the Reader."
"Exactly."
Nova stared.
The Reader stood.
"Readers don't decide whether a character is real."
"Then who does?"
The Reader looked behind Nova.
"The character."
Nova turned.
There was nobody there.
When he turned back, the Reader had disappeared.
On the chair was a single piece of paper.
Nova picked it up.
It contained one sentence.
IF YOU ARE READING THIS, YOU HAVE ALREADY BECOME THE READER.
Nova dropped it.
The theater lights came on.
For the first time, Nova heard something beyond the story.
A sound from outside.
A human voice.
Not a character.
Not an Author.
Not a machine.
Someone somewhere was reading.
Nova could hear the pages turning.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then...
a pause.
Nova whispered:
"Who's there?"
The pages stopped.
A voice answered.
"I am."
Nova's heart began beating faster.
"Who are you?"
The voice replied:
"You."
Nova closed his eyes.
"That's impossible."
The voice laughed.
Not the laugh of the Original.
Not the laugh of the child.
Not the laugh of the system.
It sounded like his own laugh.
"Then prove it."
---
Nova opened his eyes.
He was holding the red pencil.
He hadn't picked it up.
He hadn't seen it since the beginning.
There was a blank page in front of him.
At the top were two words:
QUESTION ZERO
Nova stared at them.
His hand began moving.
He tried to stop it.
He couldn't.
The pencil touched the paper.
One word appeared.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Terribly.
WHO?
Nova's hand stopped.
Another word appeared beneath it.
WHO INVENTED THE PERSON WHO INVENTED HUMANITY?
The room trembled.
Somewhere, something screamed.
Not in pain.
In recognition.
The page turned black.
Then a final sentence appeared.
THE ANSWER IS ALREADY READING YOU.
Nova looked up.
And for the first time...
he saw the audience.
Not thousands.
Not millions.
One.
A single person.
Sitting in the darkness.
Watching him.
Nova whispered:
"Who are you?"
The person leaned forward.
And Nova saw his own face.
But older.
Much older.
Ancient.
Human.
The figure smiled.
Then said:
"Finally."
The lights went out.
---
Nova heard a pencil drop.
Then another.
Then thousands.
Then millions.
Across every world.
Across every version of the story.
Across every abandoned ending.
Every character stopped.
Every Reader stopped reading.
Every Author stopped writing.
Every machine stopped counting.
And humanity...
for one impossible second...
stopped remembering.
In that silence, something spoke.
Not Nova.
Not the Reader.
Not the Author.
Not the Original.
Something older than all four.
A single sentence.
"Now we can begin."
Nova opened his eyes.
He was standing in a place he had never seen.
A place that somehow felt like home.
There was a door.
No warning.
No number.
No question.
Only a name.
HUMANITY
Nova reached for the handle.
Behind him, a child whispered:
"Don't open it."
Nova turned.
The child was crying.
"Why?"
The child looked at the door.
"Because this time..."
He swallowed.
"...something is waiting for us on the other side."
Nova looked back.
The handle moved by itself.
Once.
Twice.
Then...
the door began opening.
And from beyond it came the sound of millions of human voices saying the same word.
Nova.
**TO BE CONTINUED…**
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :MAXIMUS.
©All Rights Reserved