Fairytale

"And so the world was saved yet again, for Orie had placed the heart in its rightful place."

"Um! What happens to Orie now?" Asked a child. His pure, unadulterated eyes looking at Orwell as he read them a book — 'The World in a Hand'.

"He plays with his friends, of course. He saved the world after all." Orwell responded.

The two children sitting beside Orwell voiced noises of awe, it seemed that they really enjoyed the book. Orwell smiled at them, who listened intently to his reading. He adored the innocence of children — the curiosity of the world, the wonders behind the supernatural. They were all something to be explored as a child. But innocence fades away; people grow up and leave it behind.

Orwell's smile faded after a moment. His mind was occupied by that sorrowful thought. Trying to distract himself, he shook his head lightly, taking a look at the room he was temporarily taking residence in.

Orwell's bed was accompanied by a small, retractable desk. His laptop full of work-related items was still open, occasionally notifying him of another email by one of his juniors. On both sides of Orwell were two nightstands; the one on the right held a picture of his family, whereas the other side was used by a picture of his mother. There was a vase of flowers beside it.

His gaze laid there for a few moments, occupied with the burden of his mother's death. He still hadn't gotten over it.

"Mr. Chief, can you read us another story?" One of the children requested, interrupting Orwell's reminiscing.

Orwell paused for a moment, before responding. "Sure, I can. I'll read you as many—"

A knock on the hospital room's door cut Orwell's response short. Shortly after, a nurse's voice was heard.

"Mr. Orwell, there's a visitor for you. May we come in?"

"One moment!" Orwell returned, turning to look at the children. "It looks like our little meeting was a bit shorter than planned." he handed the book to them. "How about you visit tomorrow? We'll continue next time." He smiled.

The children nodded, taking the book.

"Keep it. It's my gift to you two."

"Really?"

"Of course. I can always get another one."

"Thank you, Mr. Chief!" The children exclaimed. They were excited.

Orwell scratched his cheek with one finger. He laughed nervously, he was a bit embarrassed to be thanked by the kids. With that, he lightly tapped the kids so they could leave.

"Have a good day, you two." Orwell waved. "You can come in now. Sorry for the wait, Mrs. Morrow."

"No, it's fine." Mrs. Morrow responded after opening the door. The kids ran outside as another man entered the hospital room behind the nurse. His attire was that of a business suit, fitted alongside SCP-212 after a rather unfortunate accident. His skeleton arm held an envelope. From the outside, the sender appeared to be Orwell's brother.

"Still an avid fairytale lover?" He asked. His name was Cal.

"Always been. I specialize in that thing, you know." Orwell joked.

Cal grinned. "Sure you do. With all that dimension stuff or whatever."

"Hey, it's not just 'whatever,' it's cool as shit."

"Yeah. Anyway, I dropped by to check on you. Everyone's worried about you. Your family's even sent a letter." Cal presented the letter.

"Yeah? That's reassuring to hear." Orwell said, his hands opening the letter sent to him.

"No, that's not reassuring." Cal's gaze laid on Orwell's open laptop. "How're you gonna get better if all you're doing is working?"

"Come on, it's just an hour or two. I'm not even doing anything extraneous." Orwell opened the letter.

Cal sighed, seemingly tired of the conversation. "I don't know man."

Orwell didn't respond to him, reading the letter his family had sent him. He looked rather relieved from its contents. Smiling slightly, in fact.

"Looks good, from what I see."

"My brother's gotten accepted into a good university. Looks like he's following in my footsteps."

Cal furrowed his brows. "What, working in the Foundation?"

"No. I mean, he wants to become a professor. Like what I used to be."

"Oh. I see."

There was an odd silence for a few moments, as Orwell placed the envelope and its contents on the nightstand to his right.

Cal checked his watch. "I don't have much time to stay here anymore, but… people are worried. Just take it easy, don't work too much."

"I know."

"I don't know what happens to those who pass, but it's not gonna be pretty." Cal stared intently at him. "Life isn't a fairytale, Orwell."

Orwell was silent.

"I've gotta get going now. I'll see you next time."

The door closed shut, the nurse following with him. She never spoke, the air was too serious. That aside, Orwell felt like the weight holding him down just grew larger. He knew Cal meant goodwill, but it just worsened his already dreadful guilt. It was his own fault he got into this mess. After his mother passed, he was so dead set on trying to find a way to bring her back. He knew life wasn't as appealing as a fairytale, but since he worked in the anomalous, he'd figure it out. He could feel it.

Orwell stared at his mother's portrait. Despite trying to bring his mother back on the side, he never made any progress. There were major leads, no theories, no nothing. Sure, Orwell might've found something at some point, but it wasn't big enough to constitute the importance of a project. As such, the effort at bringing his mother back dwindled day by day, until there was no merit to do so. It was futile.

Orwell sighed, there was nothing he could do. He moved his gaze from the portrait to his laptop. It was off now, but it was still running. He reached out his hand to grab it, before stopping himself midway. He had no motivation to work.

He looked at a clock. It was almost 6 P.M.

"Maybe I should just sleep."

He thought, before covering himself in the bedsheets. He felt weak and frail. He may have feigned appearances in front of the others, but he knew himself he wasn't fine. After all, his latest examination informed him of his abnormally low blood pressure, loss of weight, and the like. Though, he couldn't do much about that.

In the end, all Orwell could do was sigh. He knew life wasn't a fairytale, and lamented, before closing his eyes and falling into a slumber. Life just wasn't as pretty as he hoped.

Just as he never woke up to the same hospital room.

---

Orwell awoke to a (some stuff)

cut content

Orwell had always been a fairytale lover.

As such, when he'd been informed of his accepted project researching parallel worlds, different dimensions, he was ecstatic. The anomalous had always been a concept he loved—the dimensions, the possibilities, they were limitless among an endless universe. The knowledge was boundless.

With this passion, he made several achievements, easily earning the interest of Site Directors. Though his achievements weren't grandiose enough to gain the attention of the O5 Council, they were certainly enough to promote him to direct his own Site: Site-441.

And so Orwell strived further. He wanted to live up to the expectations of others. He worked and worked, pouring his soul to create the best results possible. Eventually, he gained recognition from one of the O5 Council; his efforts had paid off. He was content.

Even so, Orwell also had a life outside of his work. He had a family, one he loved very dearly. Though his father had already passed, his mother and two younger siblings were still there to support him. Once a year, Orwell would visit his hometown, talking about his achievements, how he was recognized by the top officials, and the like. Of course, he couldn't disclose information about what he worked for, but he could most certainly tell them what his work was like. His family was proud.

But even a stale, blissful life doesn't last.

Orwell's mother had passed, leaving himself and his siblings alone. He took time off work, visiting his hometown for the funeral. He paid for most of the expenses, his younger brother paying the rest. His sister, still sixteen, could only watch as Orwell took on most of the burden. The living expenses for the rest of his family were paid for by their mother's life insurance. Their blissful reality was shattered.

Yet the flow of time doesn't stop.

Moments passed, years went by, and Orwell was back to work. He still hadn't fully recovered from the death of his mother—constantly working in an attempt to distract himself from reality. He'd get sick more often, eat unhealthy foods, and drown himself in papers. Surprisingly, he never drank alcohol. His mother was vehement about avoiding alcohol.

Eventually, Orwell landed himself in the hospital. His unfinished work now being taken care of by his juniors. His complexion was now pale, his blood pressure at its lowest, he could only mock himself as he sat on his hospital bed. He insisted to the workers he was fine, and that he needed to help his family, but they refused—they didn't understand his circumstances.

Orwell stayed in that hospital for three years. He'd gotten so familiar with the workers that they even allowed him to work for a short amount of time through his laptop. But he wasn't satisfied with that. He feigned satisfaction, but he was discontent inside. Though, there was nothing he could do about it.

Orwell thought many things before his death. Like many others, he'd reminisce about the life he lived before death. Oddly, however, there was one memory that he could perfectly recall. It wasn't about his family, nor was it about his promotion—all of that was vague memories to him now. It was a question; a question that was imposed on him by a friend. That friend sustained a similar position to him, so they got along rather well.

In any case, he could vividly picture sitting in a café within their workplace, accompanied by a few other of his friends. The friend in question, who wore a business suit alongside SCP-212, looked at him with a rather serious gaze as he asked:

"Do you ever wonder what happens to those who pass?"

And that was all Orwell could recall. Of course, he never knew the answer, despite working on a project about death and parallel worlds. It was a strange concept to understand, but even so, Orwell challenged it. There was something within him that grabbed that abstract idea of death.

Those feelings only grew stronger as Orwell neared his deathbed. He was saddened and frustrated that he would never find the answer. He was dissatisfied that it wouldn't be him who'd made the breakthrough. He was discontent. Discontent with the fact that his passion would never be rekindled.

In the end, Orwell died unwillingly. His goals left unreached. Like his mother, his life insurance went to his remaining family, as they grieved over the loss of yet another loved one. His work was left to his juniors, and his position was handed to somebody else. Orwell could do nothing but lay in the darkness of death.

Life just wasn't a fairytale, after all.

But that belief shattered, for he awoke again in his office. Those words his friend spoke flashed through him once more. He felt as if he'd taken a step closer to the answer. It wasn't just a shallow belief, but a solid one. The concept was less strange to him, having gone through it himself. Even if he didn't understand it yet, he could find a way to understand. That was what he's best at.

And despite knowing that life wasn't a fairytale, he couldn't help but hope he was given another chance. A chance that he would use to its fullest. He wouldn't drown himself in work, he wouldn't spend his life lazing around, and he most definitely wouldn't engulf himself in the death of his mother. No, he wouldn't do any of that. He would find answers.

After all, being alive meant that he could find his mother.

critters dont need to read this

note for tale:

• starts in hospital bed, orwell reads to kids a fairytale
• somebody enters hospital room, presumably cal? or someone high official
• weave in backstory (everything in tale) to dialogue
• stuff

Worldbuilding

basically useless at this point this stuff is scrapped mostly vvv

• there are several universes, and a universe at the epicenter of everything - the human consciousness.
• this consciousness universe cannot be perceived as one singular universe
• the consciousness universe is perceived as the most ‘significant’ and/or ‘painful’ thought in each person
• time does not pass in that universe
• can only be accessed when the following prerequisites are met:
  • • • • death on the ninth of september, within a specific timeframe
        • refusal of death
        • endure hardship within life
        • some form of regret and/or current problem which you feel must be fixed
• individuals cannot leave the other universe unless they have fulfilled any of the following conditions:
  • • • • acceptance of death
        • current problem or regret has relieved
        • forcibly escaping the universe
          • • • • individuals can escape the universe if there is a ‘crack’ within it, an opening back to baseline universe
                • this normally occurs when the individual’s mind is hellbent on escaping/wanting to live

Orwell

• AA development will be a series
• orwell’s mother died when he was young - she was murdered
• orwell, because of this, develops trust issues
  • • • • he doesn’t want his other loved ones to die, so he doesn’t want to make new loved ones
• family dies in an anomalous event affecting the national gallery of canada
• family and orwell sent to the epicenter universe (alone)
• orwell forcibly escapes the epicenter universe, but is instead sent to a parallel universe
  • • • • due to this, orwell gains the ability to hop universes when he dies - however, the universes cannot be chosen
• friend also dies in the original universe (later revealed to be due to an external force, the foundation)
  • • • • this external force knows of the other universe, and is trying to get there by their own means
• at this time, orwell ends up hopping back to his original universe, but is struck with the revelation that his friend is dead
• orwell’s existence is realized by the foundation > he is captured
• orwell is recruited by the foundation, establishing a new department (Department of Interdimensional Stability)
• the hidden meaning behind the department is in order to access the other universe, and get back his family
• ends with orwell trying to enter the other universe by his own means

---

Thinking about doing this:

• orwell escapes the epicenter universe, back into his original universe
  • • • • similar as above, orwell gains the ability to hop universes when he dies - universes cannot be chosen
• same plot beats for now
• at the end, orwell dies of old age, but when he dies he hops to a parallel universe

---

xtra stuff:

• orwell doesn't enjoy studying, that's just how he is, but he studies hard so he can fulfill what his mother wanted him to be.
• he likes music - he picked it up from a friend and his father (or mother, but i think father should work better in this aspect)
• orwell finds satisfaction in following his mother's dying wish - to become someone she can be proud of
• of course, the one thing he hates the most is losing people close to him
• orwell's brother works in the foundation but he dies :')

critters

(insert something here)

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