Developments at "The Promised Land"
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The research and development section of "The Promised Land" isn't exactly as peaceful or pleasant as the name may suggest.

As Andre walked through the dreary, gray hallways, clutching a thick stack of papers and folders under his arm, the echo of his metallic footsteps echoed minatorially across the walls. He mumbled to himself, not speaking anything out loud on purpose; Equations and numbers and concepts most wanderers would not bother trying to comprehend bounced around in his mind, and a few happened to come tumbling out of his mouth.

As he stumbled and stomped around, not paying attention to anything around him, his shoulder bumped into one of his colleagues. He did not attempt to notice who was it that he bumped into, nor did he care about it. Finally, struggling with the door handle for a moment, he pushed his way into his office, where his assistant awaited patiently for him.

"Morning, Andre. Did you sleep since we last talked?", he asked politely, still slightly intimidated by his demeanor, even after all the time he spent working with him. Andre walked past him and dropped the papers on his desk, desperately shuffling and nudging them until they were a somewhat neat stack that wouldn't fall off the table.

He looked back at his assistant. "Nah, I've been up for the past 30 or so hours just crunching numbers and shit". Andre was met with a look of worry from answering his question.

Right. Um… well, you asked to meet me here, sir?", he asked.

"Yeah, I think I've made a breakthrough. Remember what Benna said about 'negative Liminal energy'?".

His assistant nodded.

"Benna brought it up during last week's Administrative meeting, and said it could be utilized more efficiently in the context of inorganic matter decay. But I brought up with her the idea of focusing a current of NLE between atoms, to simulate eurunic vibrations which could lead to-"

"Andre what the fuck are you talking about?".

"IT COULD CAUSE NO-CLIPPING. NO-CLIPPING OUTSIDE OF THE BACKROOMS! Jesus Christ I hate using such childish, simple, video-game words for such a simple concept…"

"Wh-what, no-clipping? People have been using that word for like… at least a decade, I think."

"That's not the point!". Andre looked like he was about to rip his hair out. He regained his composure, and pulled his circular glasses out of his pocket, going back for the papers. Shuffling through the stack of notes, thoughts, ideas, data, and everything in between, Andre pulled out a few papers with a looped square scribbled on the top left corner, a common symbol used by everyone in the Paxels to show importance or urgency.

He nonchalantly shoved the rest of the papers to the floor, and sporadically tapped the papers he pulled out into a neat stack. "Please be a dear and get the box from the storage room— the one with "Project Guidebook" written on it".

"Yes, sir". He practically sprints out of the room.


"Okay, now you see that little opening there, next to that coil? Put this in there, with the open side facing inwards, and don't stop until you hear a click". Andre passively hands the small metallic box over to his assistant, and continues to fidget with the front side of the machine. It had the shape of an electronic drill, with the pointed end facing the wall, similarly to a handgun.

"I'm still not exactly sure how this device converts 'ionic waves' into 'sub-liminal frequencies'. I also don't know what that has to do with negative liminal energy, like you mentioned earlier…?"

"No, totally different things", he says almost on impulse, as if he'd heard the question a thousand times before, like a disgruntled science teacher answering a basic question from a student.

After what felt like hours, with a slight jagged twist of his wrist, Andre twisted shut the last screw near the pointed end of the device. With a satisfied, yet exasperated sigh, he ushered his assistant away with a vibrant motion of his hand, as he struggled to pull the now completed machine a few feet further back from the wall it aimed for.

"Do you need a hand?"

He did not respond. Andre, with wall plugs in his hand, scooted over to the power outlet and plugged all four of them in, and a low buzzing noise began to emanate from the machine.

Andre pulled himself to his feet again. "Get the book out from the box".

In a moment, the journal was in Andre's hand. It was leather-bound with a dark exterior, and was secured shut with a belt made of the same material. On the book itself was a rusted gold-colored latch that locked the book shut. He carefully undid the lock and undid the belt, opening up the book to the very first page, where several wordy paragraphs are presented in an almost indiscernible handwriting. Flipping through the first few pages, Andre felt confident knowing no other force had filled the pages with any foreign runes or words without his knowledge, and that the book was exactly as empty as he needed it to be.

Andre's assistant looked on in horror as his boss turned to face him, shutting the book with a violent thud, and an excited smile growing across his face. "It's ready". He presses the button, and the low humming noise transforms to a crescendo of screaming static and agony-riddled jolts of electricity pumping through the veins of the machine, as it rumbled, each individual part of the machine was like a different organ trying to handle the immense power rushing through it.

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Transmission electron microscopes are typically not the size of a high-school microscope. I'm not entirely sure how he managed to get technology that advanced. Maybe it's because of his genius, maybe it's because of how The Promised Land works.

And then it happened. A burst of negative liminal energy shot out, appearing like a concentrated line of white plasma on the wall. Andre swore under his breath and walked up to the scalding hot device, pulling it slightly to the right, moving the laser with it. The length of the beam did not change, and the wall it once was in-front of remained untouched. "Perfect", Andre mumbled to himself.

The room began to shake. Objects began to vibrate and tumble off the shelf, but Andre just trudged over to it while his assistant panicked and looked at the machine in horror. He picked up a small device that appeared to be a microscope with an internal power supply, which had a scope pointing forward instead of down. It seemed to be modified.

He then leaned against the wall and waited patiently, with a neutral yet satisfied expression on his face, as he looked on at nothing as the machine screamed and thrashed, and light filled the room and darkened it, and the atoms and particles began to collapse in on themselves and cease to exist for short enough bursts for another to take its place. The two noticed it became slightly harder to breathe, as the air pressure in the room decreased.

"Are you making a fucking black hole!?"

"Calm. Please. It should be almost-"

A hard burst of air knocked the two back against the wall, and the room fell silent. Andre picked himself off the wall, and walked back over the machine. It was absolutely thrashed. Chunks of metal hanging off of it, sparks flying up and out, severed cables. It was like someone had taken a bat to it. But Andre did not care. It was what lied in front of the device that caught his attention.

A small floating spheroid shape, no larger than a dime. It was pitch black.

In fact it was so black it appeared as if it was simply an area of absolute void, reflecting no light whatsoever. Branching off from the black sphere were glowing lines that varied in thickness, appearing as a growing fracture within space itself. It floated no more than 4 feet off the ground, and gave off a foul sound.

"What— what IS that??", spoke a weary and dreadful voice. Andre, in response, handed over the microscope-like device in his hand. "See for yourself. I need you to describe exactly what you see".

His assistant apprehensively approached the sphere as the glowing white branches growing from it grew longer. Before he leaned down to examine it, he realized something about the device he was holding.

"This isn't a microscope".

"Nope. Its a transmission electron microscope, can examine the spaces between atoms. It's the only way someone could realistically examine a rift".

"A what?"

"Fucking— you'll understand when you look at the damn thing. Look".

He ushered his assistant to the rift, and he took a closer look at it, in the center, with shaking hands. The microscope showed an image of what looked like hundreds of spherical shapes bundled tightly together, which grew as he upped the focus and zoomed in further; Eventually, he focused on a single cluster of atoms and the space in-between a few of them. And then the picture became clear.

Tears fell to the floor of the metal hallways. "That's— That's impossible".

In that space in-between atoms, an openly rounded rectangular shape, were trees.

Grass.

A small fountain.

Flowers.

A bright, beaming sun.

The white noise of rushing water only barely hid the singing of the small birds flying nearby. The leaves slowly fell to the ground, where they were playfully pushed about by small gusts of wind. It wasn't some creepy forest, a town with faceless inhabitants, an endless dead city, or a dark suburban nightmare realm.

The liminality was not the impossible buzzing or the fake yellow eyes, but the subtle motion of the wind in the trees, and the gentle breath of—

"Aaagh! What the fuck?!"

Andre took the microscope and examined the rift for himself, and sure enough, his invention worked. "Alright, take this".

He quickly reassembled the leather-bound journal, and looked over to hand it to his assistant. However, he realized something. He took the half-empty pen out from his shirt pocket, and detachedly stabbed it into the pages of the book on the top. Then, he turned back around and shoved the book into his assistant's chest.

No matter what happens, do not let go of this book. Am I understood?".

"Y-yes sir, but— what is—"

Andre grabbed his assistant and shoved him back, forcing him to fall directly onto the rift. In an instant, his body was ripped apart on the molecular level, becoming a staticy sandy figure, quickly dissipating. Agonizing screams filled the room. To the delight of Andre, the journal was slightly less broken up than his former assistant's body, as it shrunk into the hole, before disparaging entirely.

He sat down in his chair, and gave a sigh of relief, slightly chuckling to himself. He turned around at the sight of his partner, Benna, standing in the doorframe, gazing upon him with an uncaring expression.

"So. What happened?"

Andre smiles. "I know how to escape the Backrooms".


…but as Sinclair sat on the short brick wall, listening to the birds' chirp, and looking in no particular direction, agonizing screams rang out from a few meters away, deeper into the park. She froze in place, for several minutes, but the screams did not stop. She jolted up and sprinted over to the source of the noise.

In an instant, absolute terror overtook her, as she gazed up at a ghostly figure, a contorted mouth, clutching a book, screaming louder than anything she had heard in her entire life. She froze, her face pale. After what seemed like an eternity, the screaming stopped.

"Wh… what…?"

In place of the ghostly figure was now a leather-bound book, wrapped in what looked like a belt, sitting on the grassy ground. In nothing short of absolute confusion, Sinclair looked all around her. Nothing but cars occasionally passing by. The birds had all flown away. All that was left was this… book. She still had every opportunity to forget this ever happened, or call the police, or run home. But curiosity overtook her.

Sinclair knelt down to grab the book. And when they touched it, static began to emanate from it. And a deafening buzzing noise rung in her ears. The floor beneath her felt softer. Like loose sand. When she finally realized she was sinking down into an ever-growing black void, it was already too late.

And when the darkness enveloped her, all that was left was the hum-buzz. And the journal.

To be continued in…
The Diaries of Sinclair: Part 1


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