>PART 3 IS NOW UP. THE NOSLEEP EXPERIMENT HAS CONCLUDED.
You made your voices heard.
6,597 responses in total.
48.5% to 51.5%.
It was close. So close. Thank you so much for playing.
Because of you, Sam died.
Do you want to hear how it happened?
>LISTEN
Or do you want to avoid the consequences of your actions. Hide away. Pretend it didn’t happen. Pretend it was just some stupid game.
I can tell you now: it wasn’t.
I spent my day waiting, with not much else to do.
I began to enjoy watching to votes roll in. The decision was completely out of my hands now, and, I suppose, in yours. I’d done my best to be a reliable narrator, and I felt I had been unbiased, and now I could just watch – watch what thousands of people across the world wanted to happen.
In the spirit of honesty I feel I should say this: whilst a part of me hated it, a part of me savoured it. They’d wronged me. Both of them. In a way that I would never fully heal from; behind my back. She’d cheated, and he’d betrayed me. I’d loved both of them like my own blood, like they were the only two people in the world. And, I suppose, for me, they were.
Occasionally I would check the stream of their respective rooms, I’d watch Sam struggle in his chair, Marley thrash around in the dirt – or, sometimes, I’d tune in and they’d both be very still, as if they’d made some sort of peace with what was about to happen.
Around midday the water was around Sam’s stomach, and I could see the look of panic plastered across his face, drawing his features tight, his eyes wide and bulging, and I could tell that with every breath he was savouring the taste of the stale air as if it might be his last, and trying not to let the panic envelop him.
The dirt was now beginning to cover Marley, and she’d stopped wriggling and screaming. At least for now. Instead, she lay there, shaking. I wonder if it was cold in the room, or if she was just scared. Either way, it meant that whatever dirt was shovelled on top of her fell off, and so it was rising around her, and with each shiver she’d make the dirt shake. They’d removed her gag now, but there was no audio, and so I could see her lips move, in some silent prayer, or perhaps begging for her life – but all I could think of was her lips on his, and his body on hers.
I watched this for a while, reading your comments, checking on the poll.
So many responses, so many opinions.
I know I apologised last time, but some of you really seemed to enjoy it. Really seemed to be getting into the spirit of D3.
In fact, some of you messaged me.
Some of you had prior experience with D3. We talked for a while, and whilst I’ve learnt the hard way not to trust everyone, some of you had some useful insight.
Some of you even play yourself. More of you than I thought.
>MESSAGE
>TALK
>CONFESS
--
I decided to take a walk. I took a stroll into the city, savouring the fresh air – imagining the two traitors terrified as I walked; elated. Everytime I passed someone on their phone I imagined they were voting in the poll, and it would give me a little frisson of pleasure. The game was growing thanks to me, and it mattered, it was real, D3 was everywhere, and we were all playing together, playing for the ultimate stakes.
They have infiltrated deeper than we would have thought. I saw the logo in political campaigns, in old and new movies, carved into stone that’s decades old, in the loop of my laces when I tied my shoes.
I understand now. They’re trying to help. To free us by bringing us together. It’s a sort of kindness. An act of charity.
When I think of the violence that’s committed on D3, the dog, the beatings, the murders, I feel a profound sense of calm. Free will is an illusion. It’s a joke, pedalled from the top, spun to us so we don’t lose our minds. But ultimately, we’re all playing. Whether we like it or not. It’s just that some of us don’t have the balls, don’t have the guts to face it head on, to lay our chips on the table and say, fuck it, you choose for me.
We pretend, like everyone else, that our Choices are entirely our own, and that we could have chosen otherwise.
But you didn’t.
And, today, when the post was 24 hours old, I watched Sam die.
I watched Sam drown, my best friend since childhood, watched the panic in his eyes as he realised he wasn’t getting out of this, as the water covered first his mouth, then his nose, so he had to tilt his head back just to breathe, and then the water was covering his nostrils too, and his body was still for a moment, before it started convulsing in two or three huge contractions, like he was doubling over as if winded, his body desperate for oxygen, until he finally opened his mouth and gulped in water, like it was air, and it filled his lungs, and it was like his heartbeat was plastered all over his body – veins in his neck and face and arms pulsing and pulsing and pulsing until they stopped.
I thought his face would be fixed in a permanent expression of terror; contorted. But, in fact, it was quite the opposite. At the very last moment he assumed an expression of complete calm, as if a profound sense of peace came over him, and he died.
He died, underwater, water in his lungs; like his father.
On the other screen they’d stopped shovelling dirt on top of Marley, but only just – and in fact all you could see was her nose and mouth sticking out of the soil, like some alien plant, and they’d removed her gag, so I could see her white teeth in a sea of black earth scream and scream and scream.
The screen shows something different now.
Marley, in the back of a truck, bound. The camera is shaking slightly, as if she's being driven somewhere, and the only way I can tell she's alive is watching her chest rise and fall in ragged, deep breaths.
I sent a message to them:
>you promised she’d be free
They replied quickly.
>NVR PROMISD.
>you said one would live!!
>AND SHE DID.
>NOW FINAL DECISION.
I waited to see what it was.
And where Sam’s screen used to be is something familiar.
It takes me a second to recognise it, and then it hits me.
That’s my house. The second screen is watching my house. I go to my window, and I can see myself in the camera, a dark figure in an upper window – waving.
I understand now.
Another message.
>U OR MARLEY
>LAST DECISION.
>UR NOSLEEP FRIENDS CHOOSE
I wait for a second, to see if they have anything else to add.
> :)
They want you to complete one more poll for them.
One more decision.
I stared at the screen for a while. If this had happened yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that, I would have freaked out. I would have sobbed and cried and begged for my life, I would have done anything.
But I understand now.
It’s out of my hands.
And so, I put it to you. As before, there are 24 hours.
You will vote again on who lives.
https://forms.gle/xg4CURTx8ps2ZRrL8
I have left my username and password to Marley, and made it clear that if I die she is to update you. Perhaps she won’t. I don’t know. She might be so sick of the game that she ignores it. But I have a feeling she will, if it comes to that.
I have nothing to do again today.
I might take a walk, and make myself a big lunch. I’m thinking about what to have as I write this; I know there’s aa huge cut of ham in my fridge, some cherry tomatoes and an ice cold beer.
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
Why worry?
It always has been.