**EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND NINE**
**THE DREAMER BEFORE THE DREAM**
---
BLACK SCREEN.
No stars.
No darkness.
No silence.
Only a sentence.
THE DREAMER WAS ALREADY AWAKE.
Then...
SCRATCH.
The sound of a pencil.
SCRATCH.
Another line appeared.
BEFORE NOVA.
SCRATCH.
BEFORE THE FIRST STORY.
SCRATCH.
BEFORE THE FIRST HUMAN.
The screen remained black.
Then a voice whispered:
"Do you remember me?"
Nova opened his eyes.
There was nothing.
No room.
No floor.
No ceiling.
No body.
He tried to breathe.
He couldn't.
He tried to move.
There was nowhere to move.
He tried to speak.
There was no mouth.
Yet somehow...
he heard himself.
"Where am I?"
The voice answered:
"Before."
Nova waited.
"Before what?"
"Everything."
Nova tried to remember.
The laboratory.
The city.
The white room.
The child.
The older man.
The writer.
The mirror.
The hand.
The page.
The dream.
Nothing stayed.
Every memory appeared...
then disappeared.
Like words being erased immediately after being written.
Nova whispered:
"Who are you?"
The voice didn't answer.
Instead...
something appeared.
A tiny point of light.
Then another.
Then another.
Three points.
They formed a triangle.
The triangle became a doorway.
The doorway opened.
Behind it...
was Nova.
Standing.
Watching.
But this Nova was different.
He was asleep.
---
Nova stared.
"That's me."
The voice replied:
"No."
Nova looked closer.
The sleeping figure was lying inside a vast darkness.
No bed.
No room.
Just darkness.
His eyes were closed.
His hands were folded across his chest.
He looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Nova whispered:
"He's dreaming."
"No."
"Then what is he doing?"
"Remembering."
Nova frowned.
"Remembering what?"
The voice answered:
"You."
Nova stepped closer.
The sleeping Nova suddenly opened his eyes.
Nova stopped.
The two versions looked directly at each other.
Neither spoke.
Then the sleeping Nova smiled.
And said:
"You're late."
Nova felt cold.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because you keep arriving after yourself."
"What does that mean?"
The sleeping Nova closed his eyes again.
"It means you were never moving forward."
Nova stared.
"You were moving backward."
---
The darkness trembled.
A sound appeared.
THUMP.
Nova looked around.
THUMP.
Another.
THUMP.
Another.
A heartbeat.
Then another heartbeat.
Then thousands.
Then millions.
The entire darkness became alive with human hearts.
Nova whispered:
"Whose hearts are those?"
The voice answered:
"Dreams."
"Dreams have heartbeats?"
"Only the ones that haven't happened yet."
Nova looked at the sleeping version of himself.
"Is that me?"
The voice said:
"That is the first dream of you."
Nova stepped closer.
"What is the first dream?"
The sleeping Nova opened his eyes.
"The dream before the dream."
Nova frowned.
"That doesn't make sense."
The sleeping Nova smiled.
"Good."
The darkness suddenly became white.
---
A field.
Endless.
No trees.
No mountains.
No buildings.
No roads.
A single human being stood in the middle.
Primitive.
Barefoot.
Alone.
Nova appeared several meters away.
The human looked at him.
Nova froze.
He recognized the eyes.
The same eyes.
The same impossible awareness.
The human pointed toward the sky.
Nova looked upward.
Nothing.
The human smiled.
Then he drew a circle in the dirt.
Inside the circle...
he drew a person.
Then another.
Then another.
Nova watched.
"What is he doing?"
The voice answered:
"Imagining."
"He doesn't have language."
"Language isn't required."
"He doesn't know what he's drawing."
The voice paused.
"He doesn't know that yet."
The human drew one final figure.
It looked like Nova.
Nova stepped backward.
"No."
The human looked directly at him.
And spoke.
One word.
"Dreamer."
Nova's entire body froze.
The word echoed across the field.
DREAMER.
DREAMER.
DREAMER.
The human dropped the stone.
The circle disappeared.
The field disappeared.
The human disappeared.
Nova was alone again.
---
A door appeared.
White this time.
Nova approached it.
Before he touched it...
it opened.
Inside was a bedroom.
A child was sleeping.
Nova stepped inside.
The child was perhaps six years old.
A red pencil lay beside him.
Nova stopped.
"The child."
The voice answered:
"Not the child you know."
The sleeping boy suddenly spoke.
"I'm not him."
Nova looked at the bed.
The boy hadn't opened his eyes.
"Who are you?"
The boy whispered:
"The first dreamer."
Nova's heart stopped.
"You dreamed me?"
The boy smiled while sleeping.
"No."
"Then what did you dream?"
"You."
Nova stared.
"But you just said... "
"I dreamed someone who would dream you."
Nova couldn't move.
The boy continued:
"And someone dreamed me."
Nova whispered:
"Who?"
The boy opened his eyes.
Behind them...
there was no child.
There was a sky.
Endless stars moving inside his eyes.
He whispered:
"The one before me."
---
The bedroom vanished.
Nova fell.
Again.
Not downward.
Not backward.
Sideways.
He passed through memories that weren't his.
A woman standing beside a river.
A soldier staring at the moon.
A child drawing a door.
An old man burning a book.
A scientist building a machine.
A writer deleting a character.
A reader closing a novel.
A civilization watching the stars.
A species staring into an ocean.
A machine dreaming of becoming human.
A human dreaming of becoming a machine.
Everywhere...
the same thing.
Someone imagining something that did not exist.
And somewhere...
that imagined thing was watching back.
Nova screamed:
"STOP!"
Everything stopped.
Silence.
He floated among billions of unfinished dreams.
Then the voice spoke.
"You finally understand."
Nova breathed.
"What?"
"Creation is not the beginning."
Nova looked around.
"Then what is?"
"Attention."
Nova frowned.
"What?"
"Something exists when something notices it."
Nova whispered:
"So before humans discovered the stars... "
"They were still there."
"Before humans imagined God's... "
"They were still possible."
"Before someone imagined me... "
"You were waiting."
Nova closed his eyes.
"Where?"
The voice answered:
"In the attention of the future."
---
A page appeared.
Floating in front of him.
Nova reached for it.
Words appeared.
YOU WERE NOT CREATED.
Nova read the sentence.
Another line.
YOU WERE SELECTED.
Nova's hand trembled.
"Selected by whom?"
The page remained blank.
Then...
one word appeared.
THE DREAMER.
Nova whispered:
"Who is the Dreamer?"
The page answered:
ASK YOURSELF.
Nova stared.
"I don't know."
The page changed.
GOOD.
Nova frowned.
"Why does everyone say that?"
Because the moment you stop pretending to know...
you can finally remember.
Nova touched the page.
The paper became warm.
Then...
a memory entered him.
---
He was a child.
Not six.
Younger.
Much younger.
He was sitting beneath a table.
Someone was reading nearby.
A voice.
Soft.
Human.
"Once upon a time..."
Nova listened.
He couldn't see the reader.
Only the hands.
Turning pages.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The child Nova looked upward.
"Who is the story about?"
The reader answered:
"Someone who doesn't exist yet."
Child Nova smiled.
"What's his name?"
The reader paused.
Then...
"NOVA."
The memory shattered.
Nova screamed.
"No!"
He fell backward.
The page disappeared.
The voice asked:
"Do you remember?"
Nova shook.
"I've never been a child."
"Yes."
"I don't remember that."
"Yes."
"Then it didn't happen."
The voice replied:
"Memory doesn't decide whether something happened."
"Then what does?"
"Consequence."
---
Nova opened his eyes.
The field had returned.
The primitive human stood before him.
But now...
he was older.
Then younger.
Then older again.
He changed with every blink.
Nova stared.
"Are you the first human?"
The figure smiled.
"No."
"The first dreamer?"
"No."
"The first character?"
"No."
"Then what are you?"
The figure answered:
"The first witness."
Nova stepped closer.
"Witness to what?"
The figure pointed toward the sky.
Nova looked.
The sky was blank.
Then...
one star appeared.
The figure whispered:
"I saw it before it existed."
Nova stared.
"How?"
The figure looked at him.
"Because I expected it."
Nova's voice became quiet.
"Expectation created reality?"
The figure shook his head.
"No."
"Then?"
"Reality answered."
---
The star began moving.
It came closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Until it became a glowing sphere.
Inside it...
Nova saw a room.
The white room.
The table.
The book.
The older man.
The child.
The writer.
All of them.
But something was different.
They weren't waiting for Nova.
They were waiting for someone else.
Nova whispered:
"Who?"
The primitive human pointed.
Behind the writer...
was another chair.
Empty.
Nova stared.
"Who sits there?"
The answer came from behind him.
"I do."
Nova turned.
Nobody.
Then...
a hand touched his shoulder.
Nova froze.
The voice whispered directly beside his ear:
"You finally found me."
Nova turned again.
Nothing.
Only a shadow.
A human-shaped shadow.
Nova stepped backward.
"Show yourself."
The shadow laughed.
"I've shown myself every time you've looked away."
Nova clenched his fists.
"Are you the Dreamer?"
"Sometimes."
"Are you the Author?"
"No."
"The Reader?"
"No."
"Then what are you?"
The shadow leaned closer.
"The reason they exist."
Nova whispered:
"Who?"
"The Dreamer."
"The Author."
"The Reader."
"The Character."
"The Memory."
"The Story."
Nova stared.
"Then what are you?"
The shadow answered:
"Attention."
---
The word appeared everywhere.
ATTENTION.
On the ground.
In the sky.
Inside the stars.
Across Nova's hands.
On every page.
Then...
the word disappeared.
Replaced by another.
CHOICE.
Nova stared.
"Choice?"
The shadow spoke.
"You think stories happen because someone writes them."
Nova said nothing.
"They don't."
"You think dreams happen because someone sleeps."
"No."
"You think memories happen because something happened."
"No."
Nova looked around.
"Then why?"
The shadow answered:
"Because something chooses to continue."
Nova's eyes narrowed.
"So every time I continued..."
"You chose."
"Even when I didn't know?"
"Especially then."
---
The shadow disappeared.
The field changed.
Nova was standing inside the city again.
But this city was empty.
No people.
No cars.
No sound.
Every building had a single door.
Nova walked toward the nearest one.
It opened.
Inside...
the laboratory.
Another door.
The forest.
Another.
The white room.
Another.
The black door.
Another.
The writer's room.
Another.
The childhood bedroom.
Another.
The field.
Nova stopped.
Every door led somewhere he had already been.
Except one.
At the end of the corridor...
was a small red door.
Nova approached.
There was handwriting on it.
NOT YET.
Nova touched the letters.
They moved.
Changing into:
NOT AGAIN.
Nova stepped back.
The door opened.
Behind it...
was darkness.
But this darkness was breathing.
Nova whispered:
"What is this?"
The shadow answered from somewhere far away:
"The first place you existed."
---
Nova entered.
A sound.
SCRATCH.
Then...
a page.
SCRATCH.
Another.
Nova walked forward.
A voice spoke.
Not the Dreamer.
Not the Writer.
Not the Reader.
A human voice.
A woman's voice.
"Don't write his name."
Nova stopped.
"Who are you?"
"Don't write his name."
"Whose?"
Silence.
Nova stepped forward.
A table appeared.
On it...
a notebook.
Beside the notebook...
a photograph.
Nova picked it up.
The photograph showed a family.
A father.
A mother.
A child.
Nova stared.
The child was him.
He turned the photograph over.
One sentence.
THIS WAS NEVER YOUR FAMILY.
Nova dropped it.
Another photograph appeared.
Nova.
Different parents.
Different house.
Different life.
Another.
Nova.
Another life.
Another.
Another.
Another.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Millions.
Every possible childhood.
Every possible family.
Every possible version.
Nova whispered:
"Which one was real?"
The voice answered:
"All of them."
"That's impossible."
"Again."
Nova closed his eyes.
"Why do you keep doing that?"
"Because you're still trying to find one reality."
Nova opened his eyes.
"What should I find?"
The voice answered:
"The reason you need one."
---
The photographs disappeared.
The notebook opened.
The first page was blank.
Nova stared.
Then letters appeared.
NOVA WAS NEVER BORN.
Nova swallowed.
Another line.
HE WAS DREAMED.
Another.
HE WAS NEVER DREAMED.
Another.
HE DREAMED HIMSELF.
Nova stepped backward.
The page continued.
HE IS THE DREAMER.
HE IS THE DREAM.
HE IS THE ONE WHO DREAMS.
HE IS THE ONE BEING DREAMED.
All four sentences remained.
Nova stared.
"Which is true?"
The voice answered:
"Yes."
Nova laughed.
A strange, exhausted laugh.
"That's not an answer."
"It is here."
"Here where?"
"Where logic hasn't arrived yet."
---
The notebook slammed shut.
The entire room shook.
A heartbeat began.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Nova looked down.
His chest was beating.
But the sound wasn't coming from his body.
It was coming from the notebook.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Nova opened it.
The pages were turning by themselves.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Then...
they stopped.
One page.
A drawing.
A human eye.
Inside the eye...
a smaller eye.
Inside that eye...
another.
And another.
Infinite eyes.
Nova stared.
Then the eye blinked.
Nova whispered:
"Who's watching?"
The page answered:
"Everyone."
Nova looked behind him.
Nothing.
Then he looked at the eye again.
The eye was gone.
In its place...
was his own face.
Nova stared.
His reflection smiled.
But this time...
it spoke.
"Don't trust the Dreamer."
Nova froze.
"Why?"
The reflection whispered:
"Because the Dreamer is afraid of waking up."
---
The notebook disappeared.
The room became white.
Nova stood alone.
Then...
the child appeared.
Red pencil.
Six years old.
Except now...
he was crying.
Nova approached.
"What's wrong?"
The child shook his head.
"He's awake."
"Who?"
"The Dreamer."
Nova's heart sank.
"Where?"
The child pointed upward.
Nova looked.
There was no sky.
Only a massive closed eye.
Nova stepped backward.
The eye opened.
Everything stopped.
The child whispered:
"Don't let it see you."
Nova asked:
"Why?"
The child answered:
"Because it has been dreaming you for too long."
The eye looked directly at Nova.
A voice came from everywhere.
Not loud.
Not angry.
Almost gentle.
"Nova."
Nova froze.
The voice continued:
"I've missed you."
Nova whispered:
"Who are you?"
The eye closed.
The answer came:
"I am the dream you had before you learned how to dream."
---
Nova fell.
Again.
But there was no darkness.
No memories.
No pages.
Only sleep.
He could feel himself becoming unconscious.
His thoughts slowed.
His identity weakened.
Nova.
The name became distant.
Then...
another name appeared.
Not Nova.
Something older.
Something he couldn't pronounce.
Something that existed before language.
He tried to remember it.
The moment he did...
the universe screamed.
Not metaphorically.
Every star exploded.
Every ocean rose.
Every planet shook.
Every human being on Earth woke simultaneously.
Children cried.
Adults stood from their beds.
Scientists abandoned laboratories.
Prisoners looked upward.
Pilots turned toward the windows.
Every person...
everywhere...
heard the same sentence.
DON'T LET NOVA REMEMBER HIS FIRST NAME.
Nova heard it.
The Dreamer heard it.
The Reader heard it.
The Writer heard it.
The child heard it.
The older man heard it.
And somewhere...
something else heard it too.
Something that had been waiting.
---
Nova opened his eyes.
He was standing in the white room.
The older man was there.
The child was there.
The writer was there.
But none of them spoke.
Nova looked at them.
"Why are you afraid?"
The older man answered:
"Because you almost remembered."
"Remembered what?"
The writer stepped forward.
"Your first name."
Nova looked at him.
"What is it?"
The writer shook his head.
"You don't want to know."
"I do."
"No."
"I need to know."
The child began crying.
Nova looked at him.
"Tell me."
The child whispered:
"If you remember it..."
He stopped.
Nova waited.
"If I remember what?"
The child looked upward.
"...you'll remember who dreamed the Dreamer."
Nova froze.
The older man closed his eyes.
The writer dropped his pencil.
And the white room cracked.
---
A sound emerged.
SCRATCH.
The floor split.
SCRATCH.
The walls split.
SCRATCH.
The ceiling split.
Behind everything...
was darkness.
And inside the darkness...
a woman was sitting at a desk.
Nova stared.
"Who is she?"
Nobody answered.
The woman was writing.
Slowly.
Carefully.
She stopped.
Then looked directly at Nova.
For the first time...
Nova saw her face.
She was neither old nor young.
Neither human nor anything else.
But her eyes...
were familiar.
Nova whispered:
"Mother?"
The woman smiled.
"No."
Nova's voice trembled.
"Then why do I know you?"
She placed the pencil down.
"Because you met me before you were born."
Nova stepped forward.
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
Nova stopped.
"That's impossible."
The woman smiled.
"You've said that before."
She turned the notebook around.
Nova looked.
One sentence.
THE DREAMER IS NOT THE BEGINNING.
Another sentence appeared.
THE DREAMER WAS DREAMED.
Nova's heart stopped.
The woman wrote another line.
AND THE ONE WHO DREAMED THE DREAMER...
She stopped.
Nova stared.
"Who?"
The woman looked at him.
Then she wrote:
...IS STILL DREAMING.
Nova whispered:
"Where?"
The woman pointed behind him.
Nova turned.
The older man was gone.
The child was gone.
The writer was gone.
The white room was gone.
Only one thing remained.
A mirror.
Nova approached.
His reflection stood inside it.
But this time...
the reflection wasn't smiling.
It was terrified.
Nova touched the glass.
The reflection whispered:
"Don't wake me."
Nova froze.
"You're me."
The reflection shook its head.
"No."
"Then who?"
The reflection looked behind Nova.
Nova turned.
Nothing.
He looked back.
The reflection was gone.
Instead...
there was another Nova.
Then another.
Then another.
Each reflection different.
One was older.
One younger.
One human.
One machine.
One child.
One corpse.
One stranger.
One writer.
One reader.
One dreamer.
And one...
was asleep.
Nova stared at the sleeping reflection.
It opened its eyes.
And whispered:
"Wake up."
Nova said:
"I am awake."
The sleeping reflection smiled.
"No."
The mirror cracked.
"You are the dream."
---
The mirror shattered.
Nova woke.
A real bed.
A real room.
Sunlight.
A window.
Birds.
Traffic.
A clock.
Everything ordinary.
He sat up.
His breathing was fast.
He looked around.
No child.
No writer.
No older man.
No impossible doors.
No white room.
Nothing.
Nova slowly stepped out of bed.
His feet touched the floor.
Warm.
Solid.
Real.
He walked toward the window.
Outside...
people were living.
A woman crossed the street.
A man carried groceries.
A child rode a bicycle.
Someone laughed.
Someone shouted.
Someone was late for work.
Nova smiled.
"Finally."
He turned.
On the table...
was a notebook.
Nova stopped.
He hadn't seen it before.
He approached.
The cover was blank.
He opened it.
The first page contained one sentence.
WELCOME BACK.
Nova stared.
Then another sentence appeared.
DID YOU SLEEP WELL?
Nova whispered:
"Who wrote this?"
No answer.
He turned the page.
A new sentence.
YOU DID.
Nova's hand trembled.
He turned another page.
A drawing.
A bed.
Nova sleeping.
Someone standing beside him.
Watching.
Nova turned another page.
The same drawing.
But now...
the watcher was closer.
Another page.
Closer.
Another.
Closer.
Another.
The watcher was standing beside Nova's sleeping body.
Another page.
The watcher leaned toward his ear.
Another.
The watcher whispered something.
Nova turned the page.
The sentence was:
WAKE UP.
Nova stopped.
His bedroom suddenly became silent.
The clock stopped.
The birds stopped.
The traffic stopped.
Everything stopped.
Except the notebook.
One final page turned by itself.
Nova read the sentence.
YOU HAVE BEEN ASLEEP FOR 109 EPISODES.
Nova froze.
"No."
Another line appeared.
EVERYTHING YOU REMEMBERED WAS THE DREAM.
Nova's hands began shaking.
"No."
Another line.
INCLUDING THIS.
Nova dropped the notebook.
The floor disappeared.
The room disappeared.
The city disappeared.
Nova fell into darkness.
But this time...
he didn't scream.
Because he remembered.
The first dream.
The first witness.
The first story.
The first character.
The first reader.
The first writer.
The first memory.
And finally...
the first name.
Nova whispered it.
One impossible sound.
The universe stopped.
Every star went dark.
Every human heartbeat stopped.
Every page froze.
Every writer stopped writing.
Every reader stopped reading.
Every dreamer stopped dreaming.
Then...
something answered.
"Yes."
Nova opened his eyes.
A vast figure stood before him.
No face.
No body.
Only two enormous eyes.
The Dreamer.
Nova stared.
"Was it you?"
The Dreamer said nothing.
Nova asked again.
"Did you dream me?"
Silence.
Nova stepped closer.
"Did you?"
The Dreamer finally answered.
"No."
Nova froze.
"Then who did?"
The Dreamer looked behind him.
Nova turned.
There was a chair.
Someone was sitting in it.
A human being.
Holding a pencil.
Writing.
Nova couldn't see the face.
But the hand...
was familiar.
Very familiar.
Nova whispered:
"Who is that?"
The Dreamer answered:
"You."
Nova's heart stopped.
"No."
"You wrote me."
"I don't remember."
"You erased the memory."
"Why?"
The Dreamer smiled.
"Because you were afraid of what you would write next."
Nova looked at the figure.
The figure slowly turned.
Nova saw the face.
His own.
But this time...
there was no reflection.
No older version.
No younger version.
No alternate version.
Just Nova.
Exactly as he was.
The figure looked at him.
And said:
"You're finally here."
Nova whispered:
"Here where?"
The figure lifted the pencil.
"At the beginning."
Nova stared.
"But this is the end."
The figure smiled.
"No."
He placed the pencil against the page.
"This is where you wrote the beginning."
SCRATCH.
A sentence appeared.
IN THE BEGINNING, NOVA DREAMED.
Nova stared.
Another sentence.
THEN HE WOKE UP.
Another.
THEN HE FORGOT.
Another.
THEN HE CREATED THE DREAMER.
Nova's eyes widened.
"No..."
Another sentence.
THE DREAMER CREATED THE STORY.
Another.
THE STORY CREATED THE READER.
Another.
THE READER CREATED THE AUTHOR.
Another.
THE AUTHOR CREATED NOVA.
Nova stepped backward.
"But if I created the Dreamer..."
The figure nodded.
"And the Dreamer created the story..."
"Yes."
"And the story created the Reader..."
"Yes."
"And the Reader created the Author..."
"Yes."
Nova stared at the page.
"Then who created me?"
The figure smiled.
Nobody.
Nova's face went pale.
"Nobody?"
The figure shook his head.
"You created yourself."
Nova whispered:
"That's impossible."
The figure smiled.
"There is that word again."
The pencil moved.
One final sentence appeared.
THE FIRST CHARACTER WAS ALSO THE FIRST AUTHOR.
Nova stared at it.
The figure stood.
Then...
the entire universe folded inward.
Every world.
Every memory.
Every dream.
Every page.
Every character.
Every reader.
Every author.
Everything became a single point.
A tiny black dot.
The dot pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then...
it opened.
An eye.
Nova stood inside the eye.
And the eye looked back.
A voice whispered:
"Now you remember."
Nova closed his eyes.
"I remember."
"What?"
Nova opened them.
For the first time...
he wasn't afraid.
"I remember why I dreamed."
The voice asked:
"Why?"
Nova looked toward the endless pages.
"Because I was alone."
Silence.
Then...
the voice whispered:
"And why did you create the Dreamer?"
Nova smiled.
"Because I needed someone to dream with me."
The universe became silent.
Then the voice asked:
"And why did you create the Reader?"
Nova answered:
"Because dreams need witnesses."
"And the Author?"
"Because witnesses need stories."
"And the Character?"
Nova looked directly at the voice.
"Because stories need someone to become."
A pause.
Then...
the final question.
"And what does the Character need?"
Nova looked down.
A pencil appeared in his hand.
He looked at it.
Then at the blank page.
He smiled.
"An ending."
The voice whispered:
"No."
Nova waited.
"Characters don't need endings."
Nova looked up.
"What do they need?"
The voice answered:
"A choice."
Nova looked at the page.
For the first time...
the page did not tell him what to write.
It waited.
Nova lowered the pencil.
And wrote:
I CHOOSE TO WAKE.
The page remained blank.
Nothing happened.
Nova waited.
Then...
the word appeared.
ACCEPTED.
The universe exploded into light.
---
BLACK SCREEN.
No music.
No heartbeat.
No pencil.
Nothing.
Then...
a single whisper.
"Nova."
His eyes opened.
He was standing in a room.
A normal room.
A human room.
A desk.
A chair.
A window.
A bed.
A notebook.
A pencil.
And someone sitting across from him.
Nova stared.
The person smiled.
It was the child.
Except he wasn't six anymore.
He was older.
Much older.
But not the older man.
Not the writer.
Not Nova.
Someone else.
Nova asked:
"Who are you?"
The person answered:
"The first reader."
Nova froze.
"You were there?"
"I've always been here."
"Why didn't I see you?"
"Because you weren't ready."
"For what?"
The first reader leaned forward.
"To understand that reading changes the story."
Nova looked at the notebook.
"Did you read me?"
The reader smiled.
"I did more than read you."
"What?"
"I remembered you."
Nova stared.
"Before I existed?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
The reader pointed toward the notebook.
"Because someone asked me to."
Nova looked down.
A new sentence appeared.
DON'T TRUST THE FIRST READER.
Nova looked up.
The reader was gone.
The room was empty.
Nova slowly turned toward the window.
Outside...
the sky was black.
Not night.
Not space.
Black like an unwritten page.
Then...
something enormous moved across it.
A hand.
But this hand was different.
It wasn't turning a page.
It was holding a pencil.
The pencil touched the sky.
SCRATCH.
A line appeared across the darkness.
SCRATCH.
Another.
SCRATCH.
Another.
Nova watched as enormous letters formed above the world.
THE DREAMER IS AWAKE.
Then...
THE AUTHOR IS MISSING.
Then...
THE READER HAS LIED.
Then...
THE FIRST CHARACTER REMEMBERS.
Nova stared.
One final sentence appeared.
THE SECOND CHARACTER IS ALREADY HERE.
Nova whispered:
"Second character?"
Something knocked on the door.
KNOCK.
Nova froze.
KNOCK.
Again.
He slowly approached.
His hand reached for the handle.
Before he touched it...
a voice spoke from the other side.
"Nova."
He stopped.
The voice sounded human.
Familiar.
But impossible.
Nova whispered:
"Who are you?"
The voice answered:
"I'm the character you forgot to create."
Nova's eyes widened.
The door opened by itself.
Behind it...
stood a woman.
She looked at Nova.
And smiled.
In her hand...
was a red pencil.
Nova stared at it.
"Where did you get that?"
The woman answered:
"You gave it to me."
"I've never met you."
She smiled.
"Not yet."
Nova stepped backward.
"Who are you?"
The woman looked directly into his eyes.
Then whispered:
"Your first unfinished story."
The lights went out.
BLACK.
A final sound.
SCRATCH.
SCRATCH.
SCRATCH.
Then...
a sentence appeared.
RECOVERED TRANSMISSION // FILE: N-109
STATUS: DREAMER AWAKENED
LOCATION: BEFORE THE FIRST STORY
TIME: LOOPING
SUBJECT:
THE SECOND CHARACTER
Then another line.
WARNING:
NOVA IS NO LONGER THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN WRITE.
BLACK SCREEN.
A final whisper.
"Begin again."
SCRATCH.
**TO BE CONTINUED…**
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :MAXIMUS.
©All Rights Reserved