Episode 25 - The Ones Who Work Remotely (Until They Don't)

Olivia held the badge like it might start ticking.

It was the same weight, same lanyard, same plastic sheen as her own—but the nameplate read “PROJECTIONIST” beneath her name.

She didn’t feel like a projectionist.

She felt like someone who had just picked up an identity that belonged to her in theory, but not in practice.

She took it to Miss LaDonna.

Didn’t even hesitate.

Miss LaDonna took one look at the badge and exhaled through her nose—soft, slow, like the release of pressure from a tea kettle that knew something dangerous had just been confirmed.

“Well,” she said. “That changes things.”

“Is it mine?” Olivia asked.

“Yes,” LaDonna said.

“Was it always?”

“Yes,” LaDonna said again.

“But not yet.”

LaDonna tapped her phone—an old rotary-style piece of tech that absolutely should not have had signal—and spoke into it in a calm, measured tone:

“Ralph. Mariann. It’s time.”

They arrived exactly 47 minutes later.

Ralph walked in first. Heavy coat. Retro radio badge. A small notebook already open, mid-scribble.

He looked around once, took in the air like a sommelier sampling ectoplasm, and said, “This place feels wrong in a very specific way.”

Mariann followed, holding a thermos and wearing a shirt that read “Protect the Monster.”

She handed Olivia a peanut butter cup. “You look like someone who found a projection booth that wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“I… did,” Olivia admitted.

“I cry over Godzilla once a year on principle,” Mariann said, then smiled. “Let’s figure this out.”

Back in Theater Three, Olivia showed them the booth.

Ralph paced inside once clockwise, then back the other way, muttering phrases like “overlapping role slots,” “identity bleed,” and “cross-time memory prints.”

Mariann simply stared at the dusty projection equipment and said, “This was used recently. But not by anyone alive.”

Then, to Olivia: “What did you see?”

Olivia showed them the frame.

Mariann’s eyes narrowed.

Ralph took it and held it to the flickering theater light.

“Yep,” he said. “That’s the Olivia from the 6B Loop. Thought she’d been absorbed.”

“She wasn’t,” Mariann said. “She’s learning.”

Ralph sighed. “So now we’ve got two Olivias, one booth, and a reel that doesn’t belong to any known reality. Great.”

Mariann grinned. “I’ve had worse Tuesdays.”

Miss LaDonna stood in the hallway, calm as ever.

“This isn’t about danger,” she said. “It’s about alignment.”

Olivia looked from the badge to the booth.

To the frame.

To herself.

And then said softly:

“Then let’s line things up.”