A/N: I don't own TSP

My name is Stanley and I am stuck in this 'Parable' made by The Narrator.
I have lived, died and relieved in every possible way and outcome made by him, for me, in this god forsaken place.

I do not know if there is a God. At least, anymore.

I've wondered, as I absent mindlessly ran through these halls, if this is my punishment. If I have already died and this is my retribution for the life I'd had before now. It was not much of a life, I had lead, but it was mine.
I was free.

I've wondered, for what possible reason that I've angered some deity so much that 'it' saw fit that I be stuck in this place forever.

I no longer actively listen to what that voice says, I know all the routes by heart. I go through the motions of listening, of obeying and disobeying. There is nothing that surprises me.

I remember, coming into this place that mirrored my own far away work place. I felt-I felt a fearful curiosity. That perhaps there was a possibility of escape, of answers, of adventure.

I soon learned that while I did gain all of these, I gained something else.

A distressing understanding. It had been a depressing discovery but all the better. Better for me to understand that I had no true freedom. No matter if I listened, if I disobeyed I was always made to redo 'the game' as he put it.

I bet it was a game for him. It still is, although I suppose he's mellowed out.

I don't think he knows I remember. It doesn't matter anymore.

My name is Stanley.

And I am already dead.