Spider’s Web, Part 1

Looking back on everything I would've done differently, I probably wouldn't have done much else except pay attention in school. Not that it matters now, at the edge of a blade. 

I'm guided to my house by the tip of a weapon, giving a very lackadaisical excuse for bringing a new 'friend' home unannounced when I should be at school. We make our way to my room, knife point still pressed against me, and enter the door. 

At this point, we haven't spoken about my room. This was intentional.

My room is at the peak of personality. I have a one-person bed with patterned covers - not a race car, unfortunately. One desk with a single calendar, pencil pot, and PC monitor on top. The desk sits away from the window to enhance my gloomy aesthetic and poor stature at home, and most of, if not all of my clothes are on the floor. Few posters on my wall depict epic battles throughout fictional history. Goku fighting King Piccolo, Spike Spiegel's gun drawn on Vicious, a picture of a bulldog looking gruff with a caption saying "Bad to the Bone". 

A boys room. As traditional as one gets.

We make our way to the PC to insert the USB stick, fire it up and look inside to see what secrets await. Keep in mind, we are in the year 2000, so technology is not as advanced wherever you may be reading this - presuming one is reading the memoirs of a lunatic. The PC takes up to 10 minutes to boot up, load AOL, attempt connection to what we could call 'decent' internet, and open said USB drive. Unfortunately, is wasn't just secrets hidden on it. This single stick contained more 'truths' than we had ever anticipated. Folders upon folders of files, videos and pictures. Surveillance footage, documents, authors notes, theories that have been reread and debunked by the author themselves. If this is what Raphael wants me to see, either he really trusts me or he knows that I could never truly be a threat to whatever scheme he might have in mind.

"I'm going to start clicking now." the man says,

cold and unfeeling. A mission is afoot, and he instantly clicks the first folder of many. Trying to count, it appears to be roughly 56, but the man is so quick-handed that I don't have a chance to think. The first file inside the folder is a video, a surveillance video of a train attempting to leave the town. The train goes just far enough to be leaving the town, and then the footage glitches. 2 seconds after, the train is seen reversing down the same railroad. 

"I don't understand. Is this a train spotting video?" He asks, as if he's being made fun of, but then he looks deeper at the video. "That train did a U-turn." as he rewinds the video, he points out the numbers on the side of the first carriage that read "11561", as the second reads "11562" and so on until the 6th carriage. What I had believed to be the train reversing, was the train bouncing back nose first back to its starting point. The carriage 11566 should have been first, but the train had appeared to have been picked up and turned around. How else would it come back like that? We click another file next to it, this time being a document that explains this hypothesis. The exact theory I was scratching my head over about the train doing a U-turn.

"We are living in a bubble. A dome, if you will. A soul cannot exit the dome. If they do attempt to, they are returned back to their exiting point at the moment of  their exit. Further analysis is desired. However, all agents sent out for recognisance have lost will to speak about such situation. I desire someone who will remember, a soul connected to the main game. A contender, or main protagonist, if you will. Contenders I have in mind include 12 people other than myself with a special trait. Further analysis is desired."

What a load of bullshit.

As if we've been stuck in a bubble for this long. 

How long, exactly? 

God knows.

Million face man  - we'll call him Milli for short - speaks, confused at first, and immediately dismissive. 

"You had me riled up and set on pursuit for conspiracy theories?" 

"I wouldn't have invited him out for ice cream." I say out loud.

"What did you just say?" He sounds almost insulted.

That was supposed to be in my head.

"That aside, I don't care if you have plans, we're going to investigate this in person. I don't believe the nonsense in front of us." His insulting tone progressively increasing.

"Why don't we check more files? There are what looks to be hundreds." My index finger hovers over specific files on the screen. Folders with numbers that excel triple digits, numbers no-one sane would immediately understand. We click a folder labelled '22 5 2' and click the video. It's a video of Raphael himself, sitting in front of the camera, talking as if he cracked some kind of code.

*

"My name is Raphael, as you may know. I am currently the smartest and wisest mind alive within the Spider's Web. It's unknown exactly how long we've been here, or how many would technically exist within it, but one thing is for certain. We started with 3, and have now progressed to 13 individual souls caught in the Web. God hasn't explained how one finds themself in the Web, and given the additional 10 souls appearing almost overnight, we can assume one of two things. Either A; a soul can enter the Web, but not escape - hence the name Spider's Web. This is the least favourable outcome, due to the inevitability that one can escape. There is also B; individuals within the Web can obtain personal consciousness and maintain their memories inside the Web. With this theory, we can presume multiple things."

Milli simply stares at the screen, almost dumbfounded at the mass of information in front of him. No words escape his cold lips.

"Think of the Web as a computer program. Overload the program with as much information and the program either stops working or prompts to restart the system. Restart the system and we finally reach June 8th. My second hypothesis involves God. If as many people obtain consciousness, we can collectively conduct an all-out question assault and chastise God into setting things right, herself. As unfavourable as it sounds, due to the dependency that we need every single individual to comply with the Celestial Judgement program."

Both of us glance briefly at one another almost to signify that we have a plan, maybe even an iota of a plan, but immediately look back at the screen when we realise Raphael hasn't stopped monologuing. 

"However, there is also a third presumption to assume. C; that one person among us 13 is an outlier, and not only doesn't belong, but whose very existence holds us in the perpetual and eternal judgement of June 7th. Find the outlier, throw them out the Web, and the week should resume."

We both pause in a stricken stupor. Kill the outlier and erase the cycle? 13 unique souls trapped in a web? What does any of this truly mean?

"Or kill them. Choices are many. I leave these memoirs to peruse and ponder at one's experience. Please consult memoir 717 for further details on each possible theory."

*

Milli takes a minute to process the hoard of information we'd just absorbed. After what feels like an eternity, he stands up. His stature overshadows mine immediately. He stands at 6'4" while i stand at 5'8". I look up into his cold and almost passionless eyes.

"Give me 3 reasons why I shouldn't kill you for wasting my time." 

"You don't believe it?"

"No, I don't believe it. This operation was a waste of

time." He breaks out a Nokia phone and starts typing as if he's breaking an encrypted code of sorts, and places his phone to his ear. He speaks softly but the room is so small that I hear his and his receivers every word. 

"Agent?" I hear over the phone.

"What mission did you send me on?"

"Recon." 

"I've just undergone reconnaissance, but the information I've just received is supernatural at best. You'd be better off sending the D-Squad."

"Request denied. D-Squad, although are skilled in supernatural operations are not designated to this sector."

Milli pauses in thought.

"You've barely been there for 24 hours. Are you retracting this mission?"

Milli pauses once more before unveiling an almost unbelievable tone. "Barely 24 hours? I've been here

for 2 years."

"Now is not the time for humour, Agent. I expect results by tomorrow morning." Her voice is robotic in nature. Uncaring, unwavering, devoted to the mission. She hangs up immediately after her demand.

"2 years, huh? It's been that long?" I exclaim in an almost sarcastic tone.

"You stop talking. You speak your mind too much. Talk in your head from now on." As cold as ice. 

Since I'm talking in my head now…

What a dick.

I'd do anything to be partnered up with a cute girl in a purple tracksuit right now. 

"We're going."

"Where?" Even though I was ordered, the question still escapes my mouth. 

Annoyed, he looks at me and simply states: "Train station."