**EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN**
**THE FUTURE THAT REMEMBERED FIRST**
---
BLACK SCREEN.
No sound.
No heartbeat.
No breathing.
Then...
SCRATCH.
A single sentence appeared.
THE END HAS REMEMBERED THE BEGINNING.
SCRATCH.
Another.
THE BEGINNING HAS FORGOTTEN THE END.
SCRATCH.
Another.
NOVA IS BETWEEN THEM.
The words disappeared.
Then...
a heartbeat.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Nova opened his eyes.
He was standing in the hospital room.
Again.
The same room.
The same walls.
The same window.
The same rain.
The same clock.
03:33.
But something was wrong.
The crib was empty.
The woman was gone.
The father was gone.
The machines were gone.
Only Nova remained.
And someone standing beside the window.
Nova stared.
"Who are you?"
The figure didn't move.
Nova stepped closer.
"Where is everyone?"
The figure turned.
Nova froze.
It was him.
Older.
Much older.
His hair was white.
His face was covered with scars.
His eyes looked tired.
But they were unmistakably Nova's.
The older man smiled.
"You finally arrived."
Nova whispered:
"Arrived where?"
The older man pointed toward the clock.
"At the moment you were supposed to die."
Nova stared at the clock.
03:33.
The second hand wasn't moving.
"What year is it?"
The older Nova smiled.
"You keep asking the wrong questions."
"What year?"
"None."
"What do you mean?"
"There is no year here."
"Then where are we?"
The older Nova answered:
"Between your first breath..."
A pause.
"...and your last memory."
---
Nova stepped backward.
"I've seen you before."
"I know."
"In the white room."
"No."
"In the laboratory."
"No."
"At the end."
The older Nova nodded.
"Closer."
Nova looked at him.
"You were the one who told me I stopped everything."
"Yes."
"You were the future."
"No."
"The ending?"
"No."
"Then what?"
The older Nova looked toward the empty crib.
"I was the memory of what happens after you."
Nova felt cold.
"After me?"
"Yes."
"Then why are you here?"
The older Nova smiled.
"Because after you..."
He paused.
"...there is another you."
---
The lights flickered.
SCRATCH.
The wall changed.
A sentence appeared.
NOVA:
VERSION 1.
Then...
SCRATCH.
NOVA:
VERSION 2.
Then...
SCRATCH.
NOVA:
VERSION 3.
Then...
SCRATCH.
NOVA:
VERSION 4.
The numbers continued.
10.
11.
1,000.
10,000.
Millions.
Nova stared.
"How many versions?"
The older Nova answered:
"Enough."
"Enough for what?"
"To find one that remembers."
Nova looked at him.
"Remembers what?"
The older Nova whispered:
"The first death."
---
The hospital room disappeared.
Nova stood in a vast field.
No trees.
No buildings.
No sky.
Only white ground stretching forever.
Thousands of people stood in the distance.
Every one of them looked like Nova.
Children.
Adults.
Old men.
Machines.
Shadows.
Dreams.
Readers.
Authors.
Characters.
All versions.
All watching him.
Nova whispered:
"Why are they here?"
The older Nova answered:
"Because they failed."
"Failed at what?"
"Becoming real."
Nova stared.
"They're all me?"
"Not exactly."
"Then who are they?"
"Possibilities."
---
One of the versions stepped forward.
A child.
Maybe six years old.
Red pencil in hand.
Nova recognized him.
"The child."
The child smiled.
"Not anymore."
"What happened?"
"I grew up."
Nova looked at the older Nova.
"You?"
The older Nova shook his head.
"No."
The child looked at Nova.
"I became someone else."
"Who?"
The child raised the pencil.
And pointed behind Nova.
Nova turned.
The stranger stood there.
The next character.
But now...
he looked exactly like the child.
Nova's breath stopped.
"You."
The stranger smiled.
"I told you."
"What?"
"That I was already awake."
Nova stepped closer.
"Are you the second character?"
The stranger nodded.
"Yes."
"Then who was the woman?"
"A memory."
"The Reader?"
"A witness."
"The First Character?"
"A failed beginning."
"And you?"
The stranger looked at Nova.
"I am the consequence."
---
Nova stared.
"Consequence of what?"
The stranger answered:
"Your choice."
"What choice?"
"To exist."
Nova shook his head.
"I didn't choose."
"You did."
"When?"
"Before you were born."
"How?"
The stranger smiled.
"You asked for another chance."
Nova froze.
"Another chance at what?"
"Being human."
---
The field disappeared.
Nova was standing in a small room.
A desk.
A chair.
A window.
A child sat at the desk.
Writing.
Nova approached.
"What are you writing?"
The child covered the page.
"Nothing."
Nova smiled.
"That's what writers always say."
The child looked up.
Nova froze.
It was himself.
Not as a baby.
Not as an adult.
A child.
Perhaps twelve.
Holding a pencil.
"What is your name?"
The child answered:
"You know."
"Nova?"
The child shook his head.
"That was the name you gave me."
Nova stared.
"Then what's your real name?"
The child whispered:
"I don't remember."
Nova sat beside him.
"Why are you writing?"
The child looked toward the window.
"Because I don't want to disappear."
Nova's heart tightened.
"Who told you that you would?"
The child pointed toward the page.
Nova looked.
There was only one sentence.
IF I STOP WRITING, I STOP EXISTING.
Nova whispered:
"Who wrote this?"
The child answered:
"You."
---
SCRATCH.
The page changed.
IF I STOP REMEMBERING, I STOP EXISTING.
Another.
IF I STOP BEING READ, I STOP EXISTING.
Another.
IF I STOP BEING IMAGINED, I STOP EXISTING.
Another.
IF I STOP CHOOSING, I STOP EXISTING.
Nova stared.
The child closed the notebook.
"That's why you keep going."
Nova asked:
"Going where?"
The child looked directly at him.
"Toward the ending."
---
The room disappeared.
Nova stood in darkness.
The stranger's voice came from somewhere nearby.
"You keep thinking the ending is death."
Nova turned.
The stranger stood behind him.
"It isn't."
"What is it?"
"Recognition."
"Recognition of what?"
"Yourself."
Nova frowned.
"I already know who I am."
"No."
"I am Nova."
"No."
"I am a character."
"No."
"A creator."
"No."
"A memory."
"No."
"A human."
"No."
Nova shouted:
"Then WHAT AM I?"
The stranger whispered:
"The one asking."
---
Silence.
Nova stared.
"The one asking?"
"Yes."
"That's all?"
"That's everything."
Nova shook his head.
"It isn't enough."
"It never is."
"Then what is the answer?"
"There isn't one."
Nova looked toward the darkness.
"Then why keep searching?"
The stranger smiled.
"Because you were created by a question."
---
A door appeared.
This time...
it was small.
Child-sized.
Nova approached.
The stranger stopped him.
"Don't open it."
Nova looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because behind that door is the first thing you forgot."
Nova touched the handle.
"What?"
"The moment you chose to become someone else."
Nova opened the door.
---
LIGHT.
A vast white space.
Nova stood there.
But he wasn't alone.
A figure sat on the floor.
Head lowered.
Hands covering the face.
Nova stepped closer.
"Who are you?"
The figure whispered:
"I don't know."
Nova froze.
The voice sounded familiar.
"Look at me."
The figure slowly raised its head.
Nova stopped breathing.
It was himself.
But younger.
Much younger.
The first version.
The original.
Nova whispered:
"You."
The original shook his head.
"No."
"Then who?"
The original answered:
"You."
---
Nova stepped backward.
"No."
"Yes."
"You created me."
"Yes."
"Then why do you look like me?"
The original smiled sadly.
"Because you created me."
Nova froze.
"What?"
"You remembered me into existence."
"But I was born after you."
"Birth isn't the beginning."
"Then what is?"
The original pointed toward Nova.
"Memory."
---
Nova stared.
"You remember me."
"Yes."
"But I didn't exist."
"You existed as a possibility."
"That's not existence."
The original smiled.
"Not yet."
Nova felt a strange sensation.
He suddenly remembered something.
A room.
A desk.
A blank page.
A thought.
A question.
A voice.
His own voice.
Saying:
"What if I could remember myself before I existed?"
Nova closed his eyes.
The memory became clearer.
He had asked it.
Before birth.
Before the first story.
Before the first character.
He had asked...
and something answered.
Nova opened his eyes.
"What answered me?"
The original whispered:
"The future."
---
The room shook.
A crack appeared in the white space.
Through it...
Nova saw a city.
The same empty city.
Millions of windows.
Millions of versions.
Then another crack.
A forest.
Another.
The hospital.
Another.
The laboratory.
Another.
The white room.
Every world was overlapping.
The stranger appeared beside him.
"He's coming."
Nova looked at him.
"Who?"
"The one who remembers everything."
Nova's heart raced.
"The Reader?"
"No."
"The Author?"
"No."
"The original?"
"No."
"Then who?"
The stranger pointed toward the cracks.
Nova looked.
A figure was walking through the collapsing worlds.
Slowly.
Calmly.
Approaching.
Nova couldn't see the face.
Only the outline.
But he recognized the walk.
The figure stepped closer.
The face became visible.
Nova froze.
It was...
him.
But not any version he'd seen before.
This Nova was completely ordinary.
No scars.
No white hair.
No cosmic light.
No red pencil.
Just a normal man.
He smiled.
"Hello."
Nova whispered:
"Who are you?"
The man answered:
"The one who remembers the first version of you."
Nova stared.
"Which version?"
The man smiled.
"The one that never became Nova."
---
The stranger stepped backward.
For the first time...
he looked afraid.
Nova noticed.
"You know him."
The stranger shook his head.
"No."
"You're lying."
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
The stranger whispered:
"The person Nova was supposed to become."
Nova turned toward the man.
"What does that mean?"
The man answered:
"You were the experiment."
Nova stared.
"And you?"
"I was the result."
---
The world went silent.
The man approached.
Nova couldn't move.
The man placed a hand on his shoulder.
Immediately...
Nova saw everything.
The first question.
The first thought.
The first world.
The first character.
The first reader.
The first author.
The first dream.
The first memory.
The first lie.
The first death.
The first ending.
And finally...
the first Nova.
But the first Nova wasn't him.
It was a different person.
A human.
A real human.
Alive.
Breathing.
Writing.
Laughing.
Crying.
Growing old.
Dying.
Nova watched.
"Who is that?"
The man answered:
"You."
Nova shook his head.
"No."
"Yes."
"But I'm here."
"So was he."
"Then which one is real?"
The man smiled.
"Both."
---
Nova's mind began collapsing.
"How?"
The man whispered:
"You were copied from a memory."
"Whose memory?"
"Yours."
Nova stared.
"That doesn't make sense."
The man smiled.
"It finally does."
Nova looked around.
The stranger.
The older Nova.
The original.
The child.
All stood in the distance.
Watching.
Nova whispered:
"Then what is the story?"
The man answered:
"A way for you to remember yourself."
"Who wrote it?"
"You did."
"When?"
"After you forgot."
---
SCRATCH.
The ground became a page.
A sentence appeared.
THE STORY IS NOT ABOUT NOVA.
Another.
THE STORY IS ABOUT REMEMBERING THE PERSON WHO BECAME NOVA.
Another.
THE PERSON WHO BECAME NOVA...
SCRATCH.
The pencil stopped.
Nova waited.
Nothing.
The stranger whispered:
"Read it."
Nova looked.
The sentence completed.
...IS STILL ALIVE.
Nova's heart stopped.
"Where?"
The man pointed.
Not toward the worlds.
Not toward the pages.
Not toward the doors.
Toward Nova.
---
Nova looked down.
His hands were transparent.
His body was disappearing.
"What is happening?"
The man answered:
"You're remembering."
"Remembering what?"
"That you were never the body."
Nova looked at his hands.
They faded further.
"Then what am I?"
The man whispered:
"The story's memory of a person."
Nova stared.
"Then the person?"
The man smiled.
"Is waking up."
---
BLACK SCREEN.
A heartbeat.
THUMP.
Another.
THUMP.
Another.
THUMP.
A hospital room appeared.
The woman was standing beside a crib.
The baby was sleeping.
She looked down.
The baby opened his eyes.
But the eyes were not those of a newborn.
They were old.
Ancient.
Aware.
The woman whispered:
"You're awake."
The baby looked at her.
Then...
he spoke.
Not with a cry.
Not with a baby sound.
With a man's voice.
"Where is Nova?"
The woman dropped the red pencil.
The pencil hit the floor.
SCRATCH.
The baby continued:
"I remember him."
The woman stepped backward.
"Who are you?"
The baby smiled.
"I am the person he forgot."
---
The hospital lights exploded.
BLACKNESS.
Then...
SCRATCH.
A sentence appeared.
THE FUTURE HAS ENTERED THE PAST.
Another.
THE PAST HAS ENTERED NOVA.
Another.
THE TWO ARE NOW THE SAME.
Then...
one final line.
THE PERSON WHO BECAME NOVA...
SCRATCH.
SCRATCH.
SCRATCH.
...HAS FINALLY AWAKEN.
Silence.
Then a whisper.
"Now..."
A pause.
"...we can begin again."
BLACK SCREEN.
RECOVERED TRANSMISSION // FILE: N-113
STATUS: TEMPORAL IDENTITY COLLAPSE
LOCATION: EVERYWHERE
TIME: BEFORE AND AFTER NOVA
SUBJECT: THE ORIGINAL HUMAN
SECOND CHARACTER: ACTIVE
NOVA: REMEMBERED
FUTURE SELF: PRESENT
ENDING: UNSTABLE
Then...
the screen flickers.
A final message appears.
NOTHING IN THE STORY HAS CHANGED.
The message disappears.
Another appears.
EVERYTHING HAS.
SCRATCH.
SCRATCH.
SCRATCH.
BLACK SCREEN.
And somewhere...
far beyond the story...
someone turns a page.
A human voice whispers:
"Episode One Hundred and Thirteen."
A pause.
"Interesting."
Another voice asks:
"Who is reading?"
The first voice answers:
"I am."
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Then...
the voice says:
"Nova."
BLACK SCREEN.
**TO BE CONTINUED…**
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :MAXIMUS.
©All Rights Reserved