Manual

Please note that this story does not follow the prompt in the slightest.

Let’s play a game, you and I.

And you’re probably thinking that it’s incredibly stupid to play a game with words on a screen or sheet of paper, but let me tell you something.

I could not care less about what you think.

Let's play, shall we?

    Now, if I told you to create a place in your head, where would it be? It doesn’t have to be real. In fact, it’s better if it's fake.

    If you’re having trouble, I have a few examples for you. A subway station, maybe. Or a dust-covered treehouse right smack dab in the middle of the woods. 

    Do you have it?

    Hurry up.

    C’mon, you can do this.

    Have you never seen a great cathedral with a rose window shining at its center? Have you never ventured just a few steps too far out into the fog and seen a half-destructed log cabin? Have you never ridden a train or sipped a coffee in an airport terminal? If you have seen anywhere, anytime, then you can do this. 

    I’m not actually sure you have a choice, so maybe just choose the first place that comes to mind, and be quick about it. 

    Got it? Good.

    Now for the next step. I want you to change it. Not the place, exactly. But the contents. Does that make sense? Strip your subway station of people, tear away the paint from the walls of that apartment. Pry up the floorboards of the cathedral and smash through the rotted wood of the cabin. 

If the idea of a ruined place fills you with dread, then don’t ruin it. You’re the boss.

    Or if you’re scared, just sit in the middle of it, alone. 

    Maybe that’s worse for you, I don’t care. 

    Next step. In your ruined half-place, invent a person. And I mean invent, you can’t just recycle a good friend or lover because that’s not fair to them. How would you like the idea of you to be used up and burnt out? Doesn’t sound good, does it? 

The great thing about fake people is that you can either recharge or scrap them once you’re done. If you do that with real people, it’s against the law.

Anyway. Create your person.

Think of it like a game screen. Height, weight, hair, eyes, skin, all of it’s up to you. And surprise! You get to choose everything else too. Want your person to give the best hugs in the world? You can do that! Want them to be smoking on a park bench in the rain? Sure! Make them a mother, a friend, a lover, a brother, whatever you want!

Just don’t abuse them.

Now. They’re in your place, right? If not, put them in.

I’m waiting.

There we go. Now, tell me, what are they doing?

Is that a sea captain lighting up his pipe on deck? Or someone’s mom pulling something out of the oven? What about that guy, over there? Is he texting a dear friend, or is he scrolling through his ex’s Instagram?

Up to you. 

We’re going to skip the step where you make up their voice and outfit and all the tiny little traits about them. You can decide if they have a bandaid on their hand, or if there’s streaks of blue in their hair, all of that by yourself. I don’t need to walk you through that, do I?

The answer is no. I don’t have time for that. 

You have your place, you have your person, you have their action, right? If you don’t you clearly can’t follow instructions and I’m not sure if we should play this game anymore.

If you do, wonderful! We can proceed with that sort of attentiveness. 

As for the next step, well, that’s up to you.

Hold hands, go for a walk, sit quietly. Jump and scream and race through your space with them. Anything you want can be reality, anything at all. 

You’re in complete control. 

It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it? That’s okay. You’re not God, after all. You’re just someone who happened to have the misfortune of stumbling upon me and my games. 

I just told you that you’re in full control. Why are you still listening to me?

I know it’s not because you’re fond of me. 

It’s because you’re not ready to have complete control, huh? Or maybe you’re one of those rare ones who can’t stand to leave something unfinished. Either way, I think we’re nearing the end. All there’s left to do is make a door, right? Or rather, two doors. One to return, and one to push onward.

If you’re the type of person to stay in one place forever, happily content to remain exactly where you are, fine. Don’t make a door. But if you want to explore the deepest, darkest depths of your own head, make doors. Make a room that’s nothing but doors. Blue ones, wood ones, glass and old ones, any door you can think of. Make special rooms for each one, lock away the bad things behind a heavy steel door, have a pretty garden behind an iron-wrought one. For every door you create, follow the same game and make everything up as you go, as long as you follow one rule.

At least one door has to follow these rules.

It must be gray. And wood. A plain silver handle, with the baseboards a slightly darker gray than the actual door.

This is your lifeline. 

It opened up to a void. Black, with no shadow or light, no nothing. That’s all it is, after all. Nothing.

Do not stick anybody in it, ever.

I mean that, too. Would you like to be stuck in a void? Probably not.

What’s the purpose of this void door, you might ask?

It’s the way out. 

Simple. You make up all your dreamlands, all your fake people, rule over a kingdom that is entirely in your hands. The void door is how you come back to reality, okay? This door leads back to your 9-to-5, your home, your life. 

The real life.

You can’t leave the physical world to live in your head. It’s awful crowded up there, after a while.

I would know.

I’m the voice inside it.

And while this game is fun, and while your people are perfect and while you can destroy and create worlds at a whim, come back to the physical. Be sure to come back to the physical. Be sure to arm yourself with the real.

Take care of me.

Take care of yourself