Chapter Text
When you do one thing enough times, it leaves an imprint. If you walk across a field enough times, you’ll start to see a path. If you spend your entire life tiptoeing, you may find it hard to walk on your heels. And if you decide to, say, kill an entire people over and over again…
Well, they might start to remember.
The Underground
Thursday
Sans wakes up from a long, convoluted dream. Slowly letting himself sit up, he tries to remember the dream before it can slip away from him. Some parts still haven't faded. He can remember walking through some sort of building, making puns and joking at everyone he saw. And then he was somewhere else, a place with lots of magic. And at some point, he was selling a hot dog but with a live dog between the buns.
And there was also this very vivid part near the end with Papyrus climbing a giant vegetable? No, that can’t be right. He thinks back to the start of the dream and finds he can’t even remember that anymore. He thinks it started in a big lab? No, that’s definitely not right. Oh, well. Most of it’s already left his mind. No point in wasting too much effort over it. He continues sitting on his mattress for another minute or two before he decides he oughta get some grub in his body.
He walks out of his room in a manner akin to that of a zombie. He stumbles down the stairs and collapses lazily onto the couch. He looks up to see his brother in the seat next to him, looking even more zombie-like. Papyrus sits perfectly still on the lightly ketchup-stained couch, looking straight ahead at a blank TV.
“wow. and here i thought we were skeletons. what’s got you so mummified?”
“WHAT? SANS, THAT JOKE IS LAME, EVEN FOR YOU. I'M JUST TRYING TO REMEMBER A WEIRD DREAM I HAD.”
“a dream, huh? most of my dreams seem to involve people screaming.” Pause for comedic effect. “they usually start somewhere around my tenth pun.”
Sans pulls out a bottle of ketchup and starts drinking from it. Not exactly a filling breakfast, but who cares? Skeletons don’t need to eat that much. He wonders idly what’s up with his brother. He briefly wonders if it even matters, given he suspects someone’ll just reset them back to zero sooner or later, but he manages to stop that train of thought before it can even get on the tracks. He'll save the nihilistic thoughts for later.
Papyrus turns to face his brother, an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression plastered on his face, as if glued on. “HEY, SANS, HAVE YOU EVER HAD A DREAM ABOUT A HUMAN?”
“uh, no. why?”
Papyrus turns back toward the TV for a second, then seems to come to a conclusion.
“WOWIE! I MUST BE BECOMING A SEER!! NOW I CAN MAKE VAGUE PREDICTIONS AT PEOPLE!!! I CAN SEE IT NOW! THE GREAT PAPYRUS, CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD AND WISEST PROPHET OF THE UNDERGROUND!!!” As he speaks, he stands up off the couch and strikes a pose.
“I'M GONNA GO FIND THAT HUMAN FROM MY DREAM! AND THEN I'LL WOW THEM WITH MY COOL NEW POWERS!!! AND, WHILE THEY'RE WOWED, I'LL CAPTURE THEM!!! AND TAKE THEM TO UNDYNE!!! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!!! …HEH.” And he swiftly runs off, leaving his poor brother flabbergasted.
“a human, huh?” Sans takes another sip of ketchup. “that’s a new one.”
IF YOUR GOALS INVOLVE THE USE OF THIS MACHINE FOR SOME PURPOSE BEYOND THAT OF A POORLY CONSTRUCTED METALLIC PUNCHING BAG, YOU NEED ONLY CONSULT THIS HANDY GUIDE:
1. RID YOURSELF OF THIS FOOLISH ASPIRATION
2. ACQUIRE AND ACQUAINT YOURSELF WITH A PAIR OF HUMAN BOXING GLOVES, IDEALLY SHOWING MINIMAL SIGNS OF WEAR
Sans stares at the screen, grinning. He should probably be a little annoyed, but he has to appreciate the sense of humor. It may not have made him laugh, but there was clearly an attempt.
The machine vaguely resembles an old-fashioned arcade machine, stripped of all its buttons and paint. It was really more like a metal box with an indent for a screen and a keyboard. The screen displays a few options, none of them serving the actual purpose the machine was built for. The only relevant options are INFO, SETTINGS, and SOLITAIRE.
He stares at the screen, his brain dividing into factions and drawing battle lines for a gruesome civil war about to come. The main two factions are the Progress Party and the Klondike Club. The Klondike Club argues that the machine was never meant to be used and it would be much safer to just play some solitaire, to which the Progress Party retorted that if Papyrus finds him playing solitaire on the machine the both of them agreed not to touch, he’d have bigger problems than whether or not he can find a way to move the red three blocking the black eight.
While these two factions argue, Sans makes an executive decision, selecting the SETTINGS option and pressing Enter.
SETTINGS:
THERE ARE NO SETTINGS BECAUSE THIS MACHINE IS A WORTHLESS ABOMINATION THAT IS DOOMED TO FAIL. FRANKLY, IF WE EVER FIND OURSELVES ON THE SURFACE, I AM GOING TO LOCATE HUMAN MAGES AND HIRE THEM TO MANIFEST ANOTHER BARRIER FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF SEALING THIS MACHINE DEEPER UNDERGROUND.
Hilarious, but unhelpful. On a normal day, Sans would've given up long ago. But today isn’t a normal day. It’s a Thursday.
Oh, and also he suspects there’s a human in the Underground who has control over time itself and he’s likely lived and relived this day an uncountable number of times. And based on Papyrus’ odd look when he came downstairs, he can deduce that the human must’ve been involved in some violent spinoff on Groundhog Day that nobody wanted. But really, if there’s one thing Sans has learned from human literature, this is the least bizarre thing that could happen on a Thursday.
Anyway, Sans figured he might as well give trying a shot. But so far, he hasn’t been able to find any hints on what this machine is supposed to do. He looks through every menu and finds nothing. In fact, the INFO menu was even less helpful than the SETTINGS menu, going on a long, wordy tirade about how machinery shouldn’t be able to interact with anything past the third dimension, let alone time. A sentiment Sans finds himself agreeing with.
oh well, i tried.
He yawns and presses the OFF button, ready to get to his station before Papyrus notices he’s missing.
IGNORE SAFETY OVERRIDES?
YES >NO
He stops mid-yawn, a power he’s developed after years of professional tiredness. Why should turning off the machine prompt him to ignore safety overrides? He takes another glance at the OFF button and notices for the first time another button next to it. It reads SYSTEM TEST. Now this is something he can work with.
He selects ‘yes’ and presses Enter. Another message flashes onto the screen.
IGNORE VAGUE YET FOREBODING WARNINGS?
>NO!!! yes
Man, if only all computers had some of those. If there’s one thing Sans’ life is lacking, it’s vague yet foreboding warnings.
He selects ‘yes’.
ADMIT YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING?
>YES YES
He presses enter. The machine is right on the mark, he has no clue what he’s doing. The screen simply displays an ominous “GOOD”. And suddenly the it switches to a different screen, showing a multitude of intriguing apps and buttons. Sans gravitates towards the application sensibly labeled HELP.
Because if you’re ever operating a strange machine that comes with vague yet foreboding warnings, it’s best not to fiddle around with anything until you’ve learned what it does.
[ERROR: application.definition.help] Application HELP not defined. Defaulting to backup state
Oh. Must be broken. Well, at least-
[ERROR: errors.main.666] Backup state missing or missing or missing or missing or mis
[FATAL-ERROR] Machine has been pulled through time in a non-standard fashion; shutting down
The screen is suddenly shut off, replaced with a simple message.
EMERGENCY RECALIBRATION AND REACTIVATION PROCEDURES INITIATED. PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB THIS MACHINE IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO BE FLUNG ACROSS THE VERY FABRIC OF SPACE AND OF TIME. AND I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT YOU DO NOT.
The machine started playing music that was probably meant to be calming. Given the circumstances, though, Sans found it hard to be calm.
Just kidding. Sans was leaning on the door and snoring in only a couple of seconds.
Papyrus runs through the snow with a goal. No, scratch that. A mission. Today is no day for ordinary goals, it’s the most important day of his life! And Sans is missing it!
He sprints through, around, and over his meticulously crafted puzzles on his quest to fetch his brother. He had told the human that he had predicted them staying right where they were while he ran off to get his lazybones brother. Then when he would get back, they could be properly japed and bamboozled.
He sprints across his gauntlet and arrives shortly at his house. Once inside, he stomps up to Sans’ room and opens the door where he finds… nothing. No matter! Sans must be at that greasehole!
Papyrus dislikes going there, but this is no time for petty concerns like that! Sans is going to do his job whether he likes it or not!
But still nothing. Maybe Sans is trying to sell hot dogs at one of his stands. It’s worth a check, at least.
After a bit of sprinting, he’s stopped in his tracks as a sudden realization hits him. Of course! Why didn’t he think of it earlier? He can just call his brother!
He’s just picking up his phone as he hears a familiar voice.
"Howdy, Papyrus! Whatcha doing?”
Flowey wouldn't say that he’s friends with Papyrus, but the goofy skeleton is definitely Flowey’s favorite game piece. Mainly because of how unpredictable he is. After so many resets, so many games, every other monster is so easily predictable.
And sure, to an extent, Papyrus can be just as predictable as the others. Especially when it comes to violence. Papyrus literally won’t hurt a fly. He doesn’t understand it, but Flowey can respect him for sticking so hard to his principles. The thing about Papyrus, though, is that he’s the only monster left who can still surprise Flowey. It seems like every time he talks to the skeleton, he learns something new and unexpected.
"OH! HI, FLOWEY! I'M A SEER NOW!!!"
See? Just like that. Flowey’s pretty sure that isn’t true, but with Papyrus, it might be.
“AND WITH MY SEEING POWERS… I CAN SEE YOU HELPING ME FIND MY BROTHER!”
His brother on the other hand… stupid Smiley Trashbag is so easy to predict because no matter what you throw at him, he never does anything! Flowey just can’t seem to get him to raise so much as a finger! Except for that one time, many, many resets ago. And that's what's so infuriating about the skeleton. Flowey knows there's more to that lazy pile of bones, he's seen it himself! But no matter how much he tries, Flowey just can't seem to figure him out.
"Really? Well, sure, if you say so!"
And that always bothered Flowey in the back of his mind. There was always just one more thing to try, one more test to run. But every time he tried something Sans-related he always ended up with more questions pestering him in the back of his mind than he had come in with.
But why not just try this one thing? One last test, one last mystery.
"Come to think of it, I’m sure I saw him just a couple hours ago! I think he was doing something behind your house. Do you have a basement or something?"
One last try. Flowey's made countless failed attempts to get into that place. He has no idea what it is, but it's one of the very few places in the Underground he can't access. And he's certain that it'll reveal some kind of secret about Sans.
Papyrus gasped loudly in shock.
"GASP! MAYBE HE'S TRYING TO GET THAT WEIRD MACHINE TO WORK!! I HAVE TO STOP HIM BEFORE HE WORKS HIMSELF TO DEATH!!!"
Then he suddenly bolts off so quickly that Flowey, who was rooted into the ground, is somehow left spinning.
Bored.
Frisk sits in the snow, looking at the scenery. Boring. Why are they even waiting here? Because Papyrus said he foresaw it? Because this run was ever so slightly different? It's already been twenty minutes; they’re starting to doubt either one of the skeletons will show up.
Hmm…
Hey, partner. Why don’t we see if anything changes on a more pacifistic run? I believe that'd be a good way to try and figure out what’s going on. It would sure beat just sitting here.
It’s really not a bad idea. Frisk is just scared that everything will go back to normal if they reset. They don’t want that.
C’mon, there’s no harm in it. If everything goes back to normal, we can just keep trying until this happens again. It’s not as if we're strapped for time. You really might as well.
They’re right. Frisk walks to the nearby SAVE point, SAVEs and RESETs. Everything looks exactly the same.
What were you expecting to happen?
No, of course Frisk wasn’t expecting anything else. It’s just a good probing test. Or maybe they’re just stalling.
C’mon, partner. I’m not gonna force you to do anything, but what else are you gonna do? Go find Papyrus and not know what’s going on?
Hmmm…
In order to succeed, it is said, one must do the right thing at the right time.
But that is such a rare occurrence that it might as well never happen.
After all, how can one know when the time is right?
It is so much more common that people will do the right thing at entirely the wrong time.
Sans startles awake to the sound of his brother yelling at him from just a short distance away.
"SAAAANS!!! I'M COMING TO SAVE YOU FROM THE CLUTCHES OF THAT CONFOUNDED CONTRAPTION!!!!!"
He slams the door open. The one Sans was leaning on.
Sans has no time to react. The force from from the door slamming into his skinless, muscleless body is enough to send him flying directly at the machine. It hits him so suddenly that all of his backup reactions fail. Time seems to slow down for him as he quickly tries to mitigate potential damage.
Of course, you can't say for certain that this wouldn't repeat itself upon a reset. After all, why should it not?
He can't freeze time while he himself is moving so quickly. This room was somehow always able to block shortcuts, and anyway, he was already flying through the air. He tries to manipulate gravity but only manages to make himself hurtle toward the machine even faster. Even the row of bones he hastily put up to protect the machine are aimed incorrectly, and only hurt the machine more.
And whatever must be going on right now would almost certainly be more interesting on a different route.
The only thing he's able to do successfully is twist himself in the air so he doesn't hit skull-first. The machine displays words so scathing that Sans is half expecting the creator to suddenly walk through the door just to berate him in person. Sans can feel sparks flying through the air. Looking up, he can see ketchup dripping down the sides of the machine. It begins to emit… well, not light. It seems to emit darkness somehow, as if darkness was a thing, and not just the absence of light.
All in all, the worst-case scenario.
Thinking logically, the possible upsides outweigh the possible downsides.
"WOWIE! I BROKE IT ALREADY!! CONSIDER YOURSELF RESCUED! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!"
Papyrus very sensibly leaves the room, satisfied with a job well done. Completely forgetting his original goal.
The machine flails around wildly, desperately searching for open timelines and worlds.
Frisk RESETs.
The machine thinks Frisk is a massive jerk for not waiting their turn to mess around with time. The machine was already in a tough position, it didn't need some human to turn back the clock. That is extremely unhelpful of them, and they should feel ashamed.
Or something like that. As far as reality is concerned, the machine can't really think.
As far as Sans is concerned, the machine can not only think, it can also throw a temper tantrum. Metaphorically enraged, it grabs the nearest thing it can find and throws it across the multiverse. And that nearest thing happened to be Sans.
“dude,” he protests as the machine hurls him straight out of his universe. He metaphorically tumbles across the infinite waste that both is and isn’t the multiverse. Well, he doesn’t actually tumble, he has no physical body here. And, well, he’s not actually outside of universes. Though he isn’t in the void either. He’d know if he was.
And really, there isn’t, strictly speaking, such thing as a multiverse, and Sans knows this. But when you’re dealing with stuff as hopelessly complicated as this, you have to avoid the technicalities in order to keep your sanity. As far as Sans is concerned, he was in one universe and now all of a sudden, he’s in another. Standing on top of a gravel pile, seeing moonlight for the first time.
He looks up to the sky, as if addressing reality itself, in order to finish his complaint.
“uncool.”
United States of America, Earth
November 19th, 1998
Thursday
Cassie
Four heads snap.
Five pairs of eyes stare.
Two mouths and two thought-speak voices, all speaking the same word. And mine isn’t one of them.
We’re back in the barn, in the present day. But it doesn’t feel like it. I feel like I’m still in San Francisco, watching Jake talk on a muted TV. No, I’m somewhere else. I feel like I’m on the reflection side of a mirror, watching the world go by from the wrong angle. Everything looks correct, but it all feels wrong.
Everyone else looks at Jake, confused. I guess I should be too. But it’s as if this all happened long ago, and I’m only remembering it, not actually there.
Snap, snap
“Hellooo? Earth to Cassie?” I only just now notice Marco talking to me. I blink and shake my head.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
“Oh, good. Another minute of that blank stare, and I would’ve had to find a hose to snap you out of it.”
I notice everyone staring at me. Instead of at Jake, who-
“Jake?”
Marco cuts me off before I can say anything else. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve been through this already. Jake’s alive, and we put history back to normal. You're a bit late on that revelation.”
“Cassie,” Jake says, worried, “You looked like you were in a trance or something for almost two minutes. Are you okay?”
Two minutes? That can’t be right. As I look around the barn, the feeling of wrongness I had earlier slowly starts disappearing. “No, I’m fine. I must’ve just gotten... time sick or something.”
"If you say so…” Jake says, looking at me like he doesn’t believe me. That’s fair, I don’t believe myself either. I shake my head, trying to clear the fog away. Everything’s fine. We put history mostly back as it was. And there’s nothing wrong with the barn.
I’m probably just exhausted. How many hours has it been since I slept? How many hours did we spend in the past? I force myself to ignore the uneasiness. Except…
“Do any of you feel something… off?”
“Off? Off how?” Marco asks, “Off like most of us died in major wars and are only alive to tell the tale because of a deal between omniscient aliens and sheer dumb luck? That kind of off?”
I ignore him and begin to stumble over to… somewhere. I seem to be gravitated towards it. I feel like I’m in a trance, watching myself walk without actually experiencing it. I don’t hear the concerned voices of my friends. The only “sound” able to penetrate the thick barrier of the not-quite-trance is thought-speech.
<Cassie, are you sure you’re okay? You're walking around like a zombie. Where are you going, anyway?> Tobias sounds concerned. Well, maybe sounds isn’t the right word. <Can you even hear me? …Wait, did you see that?>
Somehow that’s enough to snap me out of my not-trance. “See what?”
<I thought I saw… never mind, I would’ve heard it if someone was here.>
Looking around, I find myself outside of the barn, in front of the old water pump. Where the blue box is stored. That can’t be a coincidence. My hand shoots out to unscrew the mechanism. Looking inside, I see nothing. No bright blue light. No cube. Nothing.
“The blue box! It’s gone!”
entry number one:
dear diary,
today was a normal thursday.
i had a fun conversation with my brother and tried to use an old computer. then i went on vacation and got a cool souvenir.
the end.