"You shouldn't have come back."
The words were still echoing in my head.
Player 02 stood at the other end of the corridor.
Or rather...
I stood there.
Same face.
Same clothes.
Same accessories.
Only older.
His skin looked tired. His clothes were worn. There were marks across his face that I couldn't explain.
It was like eleven years had happened to him.
And not to me.
I couldn't stop staring.
"Who are you?"
He didn't answer.
Guest 666 stood beside him, strangely silent.
For the first time since I had met him, he looked uncertain.
I took a step forward.
Player 02 raised his head.
Our eyes met.
Then the corridor flickered.
Everything went white.
I opened my eyes.
My room.
My computer.
The clock showed a little after three.
I didn't remember coming back.
The screen was black.
Server 01 was gone.
Player 02 was gone.
Guest 666 was gone.
For several seconds, I just sat there, listening to my own breathing.
Then the monitor turned on.
A single message appeared.
PLAYER 02 HAS LEFT.
I stared at it.
"Of course."
I reached for the mouse.
Before I could click anything, another window opened.
A file.
It was sitting on my desktop.
I hadn't downloaded it.
I hadn't created it.
Its name was:
WATCH_THIS.mov
I moved the cursor over it.
I hesitated.
Then I opened it.
The video began.
Server 01.
I was standing in the middle of the old street.
Walking.
Alone.
The footage had been recorded from somewhere far away.
I could see myself clearly.
Then the angle changed.
Now I was being watched through a window.
Another cut.
A rooftop.
Another.
A doorway.
Another.
Directly behind me.
I stopped breathing.
Whoever had recorded this had been following me.
The entire time.
The footage continued.
I watched myself standing perfectly still.
Then I saw the exact moment before I turned around.
A voice whispered through the recording.
"Don't turn around."
My stomach tightened.
I already knew what happened next.
I turned.
Nothing was there.
The screen went black.
I remained motionless.
"Someone was watching me."
I stared at the dead screen.
"But who?"
I opened the file properties.
The metadata appeared.
RECORDED: 2015
I blinked.
No.
I scrolled.
UPLOADED: 2015
Then:
MODIFIED: TODAY
My hands stopped moving.
Eleven years ago.
Before I remembered ever entering Server 01.
Before I even remembered knowing this place existed.
I scrolled further.
Then I saw:
CREATOR
Beneath it was my current username.
I stared at it.
"No."
I closed the window.
Opened it again.
The name was still there.
My current name.
The name I used today.
A name that shouldn't have existed in 2015.
I leaned back.
"That isn't possible."
But by now, impossibility was beginning to feel like the only rule this world followed.
A notification appeared.
CONNECTION ESTABLISHED
Beneath it:
RECIPIENT: PLAYER_01
I hadn't opened anything.
I hadn't connected to anything.
Yet someone was connecting to me.
A message appeared.
STOP SEARCHING.
I stared at it.
Fear came first.
Then anger.
I typed:
WHO ARE YOU?
Nothing.
I waited.
Then:
HOW DO YOU KNOW ME?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Finally:
I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU SINCE 2015.
I read it twice.
THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE.
The answer appeared immediately.
I KNOW.
I leaned back.
That wasn't an explanation.
It was worse.
Whoever was speaking knew exactly how impossible their statement was.
And they had said it anyway.
I started searching.
Server 01.
Player 01.
Guest 666.
Player 02.
Every name.
Every number.
Every fragment I could remember.
The longer I searched, the stranger it became.
Eventually I found a website I had never seen before.
There was no logo.
No company name.
No explanation.
Only a black screen and a title.
SERVER ARCHIVE
Below it were six folders.
SERVER 01
SERVER 02
SERVER 03
SERVER 04
SERVER 05
USERS
Then:
INCIDENTS
DELETED
I stared at the list.
Someone had archived everything.
Not just the servers.
The players.
The deleted accounts.
The incidents.
Things that were supposed to be gone.
I opened SERVER 01.
Hundreds of files appeared.
Logs.
Recordings.
Chats.
Images.
Memories.
I opened one.
Then another.
Then another.
Almost every file had been created by the same user.
Someone had been watching this world for years.
Maybe longer.
Then I noticed something.
A folder containing hundreds of files.
PLAYER_01_001
I opened it.
Then:
PLAYER_01_002
PLAYER_01_003
PLAYER_01_004
I kept scrolling.
The numbers continued.
Hundreds of them.
I reached:
847
848
849
850
Then I saw:
PLAYER_01_851
I clicked it.
The file opened.
A date appeared.
I stopped breathing.
DATE: TOMORROW
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
The archive contained a recording from tomorrow.
I opened the file.
The image appeared.
I didn't recognize the world.
But I recognized the people.
Me.
Guest 666.
Player 02.
We were standing together.
Behind us were dozens of figures.
Maybe hundreds.
Old Guests.
Broken avatars.
People standing perfectly still.
And behind them rose a massive black structure.
It seemed to stretch beyond the sky.
I didn't know what it was.
I didn't want to know.
Guest 666 looked toward something outside the frame.
Then he spoke.
"He's here."
Player 02 turned his head.
"Which one?"
Guest 666 answered:
"All of them."
The screen went black.
I sat there with my mouth slightly open.
A recording from tomorrow.
A world I hadn't seen.
A conversation that hadn't happened.
Not yet.
I kept searching.
I don't know why.
Maybe because I was afraid to stop.
That's when I found another folder.
PROJECT MEMORY
Inside was a single directory.
SUBJECTS
I opened it.
Six names appeared.
PLAYER 01
PLAYER 02
PLAYER 03
PLAYER 04
PLAYER 05
PLAYER 06
Beside each was a status.
PLAYER 01 — RECOVERED
PLAYER 02 — ACTIVE
PLAYER 03 — LOST
PLAYER 04 — LOST
PLAYER 05 — UNKNOWN
Then:
PLAYER 06 — ARCHIVIST
I stared at the word.
Archivist.
A new window opened.
I hadn't clicked anything.
A live connection.
A camera feed appeared.
A dark room.
Several monitors stood against the walls.
Each screen showed a different world.
Server 01.
Server 04.
Server 05.
Then I saw one screen that made my stomach drop.
Me.
Right now.
I was sitting in front of my computer.
The camera wasn't showing a recording.
It was showing me.
Live.
Someone was sitting in front of another monitor.
I couldn't see their face.
They were watching me.
The figure moved.
A file opened on their screen.
INCIDENT 001
Then:
RULE 01
DO NOT INTERACT WITH THE GUESTS.
Another file.
RULE 02
DO NOT ENTER SERVER 05.
Then a third.
The figure stopped.
RULE 03
DO NOT ALLOW PLAYER 01 TO REMEMBER.
They remained still for several seconds.
Then they spoke.
"Too late."
The voice was quiet.
Tired.
Not angry.
Not threatening.
It sounded like someone who had been fighting the same battle for far too long.
I stared at the screen.
"You're the Archivist."
The figure didn't answer.
I typed into the connection.
WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME?
Nothing.
WHO AM I?
Nothing.
WHAT IS PLAYER 02?
Still nothing.
Then the screen changed.
A new folder appeared.
PLAYER_06
I clicked it.
An old photograph loaded.
The Archivist stood in a room I didn't recognize.
Or thought I didn't.
He looked younger.
Much younger.
The date appeared beneath the image.
2015
The recording started.
The younger Archivist looked directly into the camera.
"If you're watching this..."
He paused.
His eyes shifted toward something behind the camera.
"You're already too late."
The recording ended.
I stared at the screen.
Then something behind him caught my attention.
A monitor.
Only part of it was visible.
But I could read the name displayed on it.
PLAYER 01
My username.
My current username.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
The same name.
The same player.
Eleven years before I remembered creating the account.
A memory flashed through my mind.
A room.
A desk.
Someone standing behind me.
A voice saying:
"You promised."
I blinked.
The memory was gone.
Every window on my screen flickered at once.
The archive disappeared.
The live connection was severed.
The monitor went black.
Then one message appeared.
PLAYER 06 HAS LEFT THE ARCHIVE.
I stared at it.
Player 06.
The Archivist.
He had left.
But left where?
Then another message appeared.
PLAYER 06 HAS JOINED SERVER 05.
I stood up.
"No."
I didn't know why I said it.
Maybe because I knew what Server 05 meant.
Maybe because nobody was supposed to go there.
Or maybe because I had finally understood something.
The Archivist wasn't watching the world from outside.
He was part of it.
The screen went black again.
Then an old recording appeared.
Player 01 stood beside Guest 666.
I recognized the scene.
I had seen it before.
But this time, something was different.
Guest 666 wasn't looking at Player 01.
He was looking directly into the camera.
"There are six of us."
Player 01 frowned.
"I thought there were five."
Guest 666 went silent.
Then slowly turned toward the camera.
"There are."
The image froze.
Six.
Not five.
Six.
I thought about the list.
Player 01.
Player 02.
Player 03.
Player 04.
Player 05.
Player 06.
And suddenly I understood why the number had always felt wrong.
But another question appeared.
If Player 06 was the Archivist...
who were the other five?
And why had Guest 666 spoken as if he knew someone was watching?
I stepped away from the computer.
The monitor went dark.
For a moment, I saw my reflection.
Then someone appeared behind me.
I turned.
Nothing.
My heart hammered.
I looked back at the screen.
My reflection was gone.
One sentence had replaced it.
THE ARCHIVE IS STILL RECORDING.
I slowly raised my hand.
My fingertips touched the glass.
It was warm.
Far too warm.
Then I heard three deep tones from somewhere inside the computer.
BOOM.
BOOM.
...
BOOM.
Guest 666.
I closed my eyes.
And somewhere deep inside me, something remembered.
Not a face.
Not a place.
A feeling.
I had been here before.
I had watched these screens before.
I had seen these files.
Maybe I had even created some of them.
My eyes opened.
The archive hadn't found me.
It had never needed to.
Because I had already been part of it.
And somewhere in that archive, there was a version of me that still remembered everything.