Episode 23 - What’s on the Reel

Olivia didn’t want to screen the reel.

She also didn’t want to not screen it.

Because leaving unlabeled film humming on the front desk was like leaving a lit candle on a bookshelf labeled “Do Not Burn Unless You Really Mean It.”

And because Dr. Torpor kept circling it like a moth, murmuring things like, “It wants to be known,” and “I’m fairly certain I’ve seen this before, but with more teeth.”

So they voted.

Sort of.

Charles was “indisposed” in the East Wing—his way of saying the walls were trying to rearrange themselves again and he was having none of it.

Miss LaDonna simply said, “If you’re going to screen it, at least do it in Theater Three. The walls there know how to close their eyes.”

Bernard abstained by pretending to be asleep, but gave Olivia a silent thumbs-up with one tentacle.

Which left Olivia… with the key to Theater Three.

They loaded the reel onto the dusty projector.

It didn’t resist, but it didn’t help either. The film was warm to the touch. Slightly moist. Dr. Torpor described it as “thoughtfully clammy.”

The room filled with that old, familiar smell—popcorn and ozone—and Olivia flicked the switch.

The screen glowed to life.

Static.

Then shapes.

At first, it looked like a standard public domain horror short—something about a haunted house with a very dramatic organ score and one too many fog machines.

But the longer it played, the more Olivia realized…

The camera angles were wrong. They weren’t watching the actors. They were watching the audience.

Black-and-white footage of theater seats.

Some full.

Some empty.

Some… watching back.

Dr. Torpor leaned forward in his seat. “This is magnificent.”

Bernard, coiled in the corner, said nothing. Just pulsed faintly, like a warning light.

The film crackled. The footage shifted.

Now it showed Olivia’s desk.

Now the breakroom.

Now Theater Three.

Now—

The screen went dark.

They sat in silence.

Then the reel began to rewind… on its own.

Miss LaDonna’s voice drifted into the theater without her presence.

“Don’t let it finish.”

Olivia reached for the stop switch.

The projector fought her.

Just for a second.

Then stopped.

Hard.

The film snapped.

A single frame fluttered to the floor.

She picked it up.

Held it to the light.

It showed the four of them in Theater Three.

Except… she wasn’t in her seat.

She was standing behind herself.

Smiling.