Arc II, Chapter 10: The Cut Scene

Arc II, Chapter 10: The Cut Scene

The time capsule that was buried thirty years too early caused quite a stir. Most who learned of its existence found it amusing. Of course they did. My friends and I knew that it was an omen of what was to come, but everyone else in that part of the square that night were laughing and scratching their heads about it.

The Mayor, however, was some unique combination of angry, embarrassed, confused, and paranoid. He alternated between those emotions with every sentence.

“I demand to know who is behind this!” He whisper-screamed to his entourage as they scrambled to find someone, anyone, who might be able to explain the situation. “Don’t make a scene! We don’t want people walking over here. How.... would there be a time capsule already buried here and why does it say that 1992 was the Centennial? Is this a setup to make me look foolish?”

His people did not know the answer.

The first person who was called in to help was Rhonda Moore, who was the coordinator for the Centennial. She was also a Paragon, which was an NPC that the Atlas defined as “The left and right hands of Carousel. These NPCs play a variety of characters in storylines. They can be protagonists, allies, or villains. The current theory is that each one specializes in either an Aspect or Advanced Archetype (Detective Paragon, Researcher Paragon, etc.), though their exact nature is not understood. They can be more or less powerful depending on what is needed. They pretend not to know anything outside of their scripts, but they are lying. They remember you between stories, I swear.”

I wasn’t sure if that entry was in the version of the Atlas at Camp Dyer like it was in ours. My best guess was that Paragons were on our side. I needed to know more before I could be sure.

The only way I had of recognizing a Paragon was their default level being 50 and the fact that they had numerous small posters on the red wallpaper that should normally have contained tropes, but they were all grayed out. I had originally thought it meant they were secretly enemies, but now I didn't know what to think.

Rhonda Moore, though, was born to tell people what to do. She had a calming presence that put even the mayor at ease, if only for a few moments. I saw her whispering in his ear the moment she arrived. She immediately started to take command of the situation, directing citizens away from the mysterious time capsule.

“I am so sorry that you had to see this whole mess,” she said as she spotted us watching the situation unfold. “I know you probably just want to get to your hotel and decompress so you will be ready for tomorrow. If you could wait a minute, I’ll find someone to show you to your hotel.”

I felt the subtle strings of a trope pulling over me. It was like the allure of watching videos on the internet when you have homework to do, an ever-present temptation. In this case, the temptation was to do exactly as Rhonda had requested of us.

I looked at my friends. They felt it too. Rhonda had just used a trope on us to keep us in that exact location. It appeared that the Tutorial relied on Paragons like Rhonda to ensure players did as expected. That itself was odd. If Carousel wanted us to stick around for some exposition, why not just make us do it all on its own? Why involve a Paragon?

If I were to guess, I would say Rhonda embodied the Team Leader Aspect of the Final Girl Archetype.

Final Girl: Resilient characters often left standing at the end.

Team Leader Aspect: Inspiring figures adept at guiding others through terrifying situations.

It was pretty clear why we were being asked to stay there. Rhonda and the Mayor had brought in the help of several other people from the town: Constance Barlow the Head Librarian we had met, The Police Chief Curt Willis, and Tar Bellows who owned the Pawn Shop.

In fact, everyone other than the Mayor and his aides were Paragons.The initial posting of this chapter occurred via Ñøv€l-B!n.

We were about to watch a type of cut scene. We had to stay there and observe.

Tar was asked to bring a pair of bolt cutters to remove an intimidating metal lock on the top of the time capsule they had just dug up. He was a bald, heavily muscled man. We had met him when we visited his pawn shop. He had hinted to us (not so subtly) that there was importance to the extra tickets I had been awarded, which led us to discover the rough message contained within them.

I half expected for him to give us a wink or some acknowledgment, but he didn’t. He was dead-focused on getting the time capsule open. He stood there, awaiting the command from the Mayor.

The Mayor was failing to conceal his unease about the situation. He wasn’t sure whether to open it or not. The debate that ensued was hushed, but it did help introduce some of the new Paragons.

“How would this end up here?” he asked Constance, “You’re the Carousel historian. Tell me I have not gone mad.”

I had known Constance as the Head Librarian, but apparently, she was an expert on Carousel too. I made a note of that.

“You haven’t gone mad yet,” Constance answered. “Unless you’re asking if the people of Carousel somehow lost track of the date for thirty years.”

“Of course not,” the Mayor said. “But I do want some other explanation for the circumstances we find ourselves in.”

The time capsule they had dug up was supposedly buried during the Carousel Centennial thirty years prior in 1992. That was confusing, given that the town was currently celebrating its centennial in 2022. A hundred-year anniversary is typically a once-in-a-lifetime experience for any town. Not for Carousel, apparently.

“Aren’t there procedures and regulations for things like this?” the Mayor asked harshly.

“Fortunately, the procedures are printed on the side,” Constance said dryly. “Open in a hundred years. We’re 70 years shy.”

The Mayor shot her a sharp look.

“Chief,” the Mayor said. “Do you have any ideas?”

“What do you want me to do, Roderick?” Police Chief Willis asked. “Call in the bomb squad? Tell them we have a mysterious object?”

“I am here to ease your mind, Roderick,” she said looking at the Mayor.

The Mayor didn’t see the humor that the Police Chief did.

“And how will you do that?” he asked.

Madam Celia moved close to him and said, “You will open the capsule. That’s what I have to say. Whether it is now, tomorrow, or the next day, or thirty more years from now, you will open it. When you do, you will figure out what message the past has for us. The voices of the dead can be louder than the living here in Carousel. When they choose to speak, you will hear them. There is no use delaying what will happen. There is even less use ignoring what already did.”

The other Paragons acted slightly unsettled by her tone.

“Celia,” the Mayor said in a worried tone, “This was buried on August 5, 1992. Surely I don’t have to tell you what day that was.”

The was a silence as the Paragons suddenly seemed to realize whatever it was the Mayor was hesitant about.

“No...” the Chief Willis said. “You're not suggesting... I’m not sure where your mind is, but you’re wrong. Whatever it is... it can’t have anything to do with that.”

“I’m telling you,” Rhonda Moore said, “It had to have been put there recently. It doesn't make sense. The date they put is in bad taste, but there is no reason to think it is accurate. Either way, it could be a PR disaster now that you bring that up.”

Constance the librarian started to argue her prank theory again, but she was cut off.

“Open it,” Mayor Gray said. “Celia is right. I will open it. No use putting it off. Go ahead, Tar.”

It sounded like something happened thirty years ago, something that might be related to the contents of this time capsule. Something they weren't talking about.

Tar had the lock snipped in seconds. He stepped aside and eagerly awaited a glimpse at the contents.

“If you could back up for a moment,” the Mayor said. “I’d like to see what’s in it first myself.”

Tar and the others reluctantly moved to the side so that only the Mayor was facing the latch that would open the capsule.

Mayor Roderick Gray stood before the metal cylinder with raw reverence. It could have been a prank, a typo, a casket, or something beyond explanation. It was all of those things until he opened it.

It took a bit of pulling. The hinges were rusted, and a seal had been formed. He did manage to get it open.

As he did, he stared down into the container, grabbed a flashlight offered by Tar, and examined the contents. His expression of curiosity never changed. He just stared. I couldn’t read his face. He stood still for a minute. I never got a clue of what he saw.

He closed the lid.

“Did you bring another lock like I asked?”

“Yep,” Tar answered, brandishing a padlock from his pocket and handing it to him.

“Have this brought to my offices... the ones at the clock tower. We should get the hole covered with a tarp so we can bury the proper time capsule tomorrow as planned. Can someone remind me of when it is supposed to rain again?"

"Three days from now," Rhonda answered quickly.

"Good. We're in the clear. The contents of the previous capsule deserve careful consideration, Rhonda. We won’t be showing them to the populace just yet. Clear out. It’s near curfew, isn’t it?”

All the while he spoke, he stared into the distance, like he was still processing what he had seen.

The police chief looked at his watch. “It is. We need to get these people cleared out of here.”

The Mayor accompanied the workers as they loaded the old time capsule into the crate that the new one had come out of. They used a forklift to haul it away.

A calm had come over the Mayor that he didn’t have before.

Something else had changed too.

On the red wallpaper, in addition to the appearance of a collection of unreadable tropes, his Plot Armor had risen to 50.