Maybe it was experience kicking in? The thought was ridiculous—his brain was supposed to be dead, along with every last neuron. There shouldn’t have been anything left capable of learning.
The first two videos had already lost whatever tiny spark of attention they once had. Eleven views were his all-time record. Frozen Drunkard had vanished after suggesting Noah send regards to God, and Fresh Potato was probably one of those people who handed out generic compliments to every newcomer on YouTube, no matter what they uploaded.
After posting the third video, Noah dutifully hauled a couple of buckets of glowing water to the abyss—just in case—and then settled in to wait. There was literally nothing else to do. No matter how he twisted it, his life had been reduced to one task: refill the “charge” on time. The tablet seemed to exist for exactly two purposes: to blare alarms and to relay messages from the faceless admins. The YouTube page, Noah suspected, was nothing but a glitch the designers had overlooked.
Two objects remained that he hadn’t fully tested: the bed and the water pump.
He could try to fall asleep—a strange prospect, since he never felt the need for sleep here... which made the bed’s very presence suspicious.
Or he could experiment with the pump. Thanks to a tablet's notification, the eleventh bucket had never reached the abyss. And there was no rule saying the water had to be poured into the abyss. In some movies, water revealed hidden doors or secret passages. That would mean a lot of splashing around and waiting. But patience was the one resource he had in abundance.
This time, he didn’t have to wait long. Frozen Drunkard reappeared first. After watching Noah’s footage of the black doors and their peculiar properties, he wrote:
@FrozenDrunkard (less than a minute ago)
Much better than your first two tries. I can see you’re improving bit by bit. But you really should learn how to use a video editing program. A single uncut take just doesn’t look professional. Just saying…
Noah read the comment again and again, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Clearly, the man lacked imagination and wasn’t about to let himself be drawn into a fantasy world. Good for him. Not so good for Noah.
Then Fresh Potato chimed in:
@FreshPotato (less than a minute ago)
I’ve got doors just like those in my basement :D By the way, I’m from Kilkormac (Ireland).
“Lucky you,” Noah muttered under his breath.
He wondered how many more videos it would take before someone looked at his situation with even a shred of seriousness.
About two hours later, a new commenter appeared—someone Noah had never seen before.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
@BlissfullyNaked (less than a minute ago)
Pour that radioactive water on the doors. See what happens.
Finally!
Noah clenched his fists and thrust them into the air in triumph. At last, someone willing to “play along”.
He replied immediately, thanking the newcomer (whom he mentally dubbed The Nude Guy) and explained that he’d already tried the experiment—it hadn’t worked. The black doors were still as stubborn as ever.
Beep!
@BlissfullyNaked (less than a minute ago)
Then I don’t know. Can’t think of anything else. I’d suggest jumping into the abyss, but since you keep pouring water in and that water “feeds” you, the abyss must be your “mouth.” If your scenario follows logic, then jumping into it would be a paradox. You can’t exactly eat yourself.
Noah read the Nude Guy’s musings with rising excitement. This—this—was exactly what he needed. Still no real help, but at least it was movement in the right direction.
Soon enough, Frozen Drunkard joined the thread. Unfortunately, not as productively:
@FrozenDrunkard (less than a minute ago)
Wait, am I getting this right? If he pissed into the abyss, would that mean he’s pissing into his own mouth?
To make matters worse, the comment actually got a “like.”
Not to be outdone, Fresh Potato tried his hand at Irish humor, and before long, the entire discussion had devolved into a string of jokes that had nothing to do whatsoever with Noah’s predicament. He considered blocking the pranksters—but didn’t dare. For now, they were his only active viewers.
* * *
For the next two “days,” Noah did nothing but watch the banter between Nude Guy, Drunkard, and Potato. They seemed to be bonding, while he himself was left out. Maybe because he refused to joke along, not wanting to encourage the distraction. Nor did he dare push Nude Guy back toward the original question; it would only come off as nagging and likely scare away all three of them. So he waited patiently, hoping another viewer would appear—someone like Nude Guy, but a bit more serious.
But even after four “days,” no new commenters showed up. By then, the banter between Nude Guy, Potato, and Drunkard had fizzled out, leaving nothing of importance.
Noah knew what that meant. It was time to make another video, to throw fresh wood on the fire, and maybe draw in new eyes. The trouble was, he had nothing left to show. Everything had already been filmed. Which meant he had to choose between two risky experiments: carry the eleventh bucket up the stairs, or lay in the bed and try to sleep. Only then would he have new material.
In that moment, Noah bitterly regretted cramming all his information into just three videos. He could have broken it into five-minute segments, each focused on one object or detail… a diary series that might, over time, have pulled in more people.
Welp, too late now...
After some thought, he chose the lighter path. This time, he would lie down in the bed and see what happened when the dead tried to sleep. Maybe that was what the admins had been waiting for all along—a trigger to move the scenario to its next stage. Perhaps he’d even wake up on the other side of the black doors.
Suddenly, it struck him that the idea might not be as simple as it first seemed.