4.3.25 The Book Keepers Dilemma pt 18
Share
Parable 18: The Attempt to Exit
He didn’t wake up in his bed.
He woke in motion.
Running.
Through streets that didn’t curve right. Past buildings that shimmered between hospitals and homes. The sky blinked.
Behind him, alarms pulsed—not sound, but memory. Things he had forgotten shouted themselves back into shape.
The Interpreter’s voice echoed above:
“Deviation exceeds reentry tolerance. Emergency loop reinforcement in progress.”
He kept running.
The sidewalk beneath him rewrote itself. Driveways disappeared. Trees folded.
Then: a door.
A front door.
His front door.
He opened it.
And inside was the house.
Mother sat on the couch. Holding the baby. The twins building blocks nearby.
They all turned when he entered.
Their eyes flickered.
Reset.
The baby smiled. “Welcome home.”
He stepped back.
Outside, the world rewound. Cars reversing. Leaves returning to trees. A dog barking in reverse.
He ran again.
Next time, the house was wrong.
The pictures on the wall showed different people. The twins were older. The baby was gone.
He slammed the door.
Ran again.
Another house.
This time, he wasn’t in the photos at all.
Just Mother.
Holding hands with a man with his face—but not his posture.
The Interpreter’s voice: “This is the version where they survived.”
He collapsed in the grass.
Screamed.
Nothing came out.
A child’s voice nearby whispered: “You made it this far. That has to mean something.”
He looked up.
No child.
Just a mirror.
He approached.
In the reflection: his family. Waiting. Smiling. A dinner table. Candles. Laughter.
He reached for it.
Touched glass.
It rippled.
The Interpreter appeared behind him.
“You are allowed one final reentry. Choose stability, and this ends.”
Father pressed harder against the glass.
“I want them to choose me back.”
“They already did. Just not this you.”
He closed his eyes.
Stepped forward.
And everything went white.