Imagination Cannot Beat Reality
“...What the hell is this?”
Information Team employee Lee Su-ji couldn’t hide her shock.
While monitoring NewTube to keep watch over her assigned liminal space, she had discovered a new variable. A channel run by a Korean person that was uploading recorded footage of live streams from the Backrooms.
“How can they possibly upload three videos a day?”
Special videos that required graphic work took weeks to produce no matter how fast the creator worked. The popular channel that had recently influenced the state of the Backrooms had only managed two videos in three days, and even they had noted in the description that the next episode would take months of dedicated production.
Uploading three videos a day was physically impossible.
And that wasn’t all.
The fact that the channel was replying to comments from yesterday’s video was realistically impossible.
“You’re saying these videos genuinely don’t use AI?”
“The manager asked ‘The Brain Runs on Electricity’ and they said no. Aside from cut editing, there’s zero post-correction applied.”
“Does that even make sense?”
“This is the place that manages things that don’t make sense, Su-ji.”
Kim Sang-jin took a long, indifferent sip of his iced Americano.
“Should we deploy bots and mass-report the channel?”
“Why?”
“Its view count is climbing faster than the channels we placed under surveillance. And it started with a hundred thousand subscribers? They clearly bought the account!”
“And?”
Lee Su-ji’s face crumpled in confusion at her superior’s still-calm expression.
“Pardon?”
“Why waste time and budget trying to stop that channel’s growth? It’s just going to follow the pattern of the existing monitored channels anyway. Are you going to throw a fit then too?”
“That… well…”
“Su-ji. Let’s keep public and private matters separate. You can’t throw a tantrum just to save your favorite channel.”
“Th-that’s not what I’m doing, sir!”
“It’s not…? You even bought all the merch. Oh?”
Kim Sang-jin, who had been watching the video with a completely blank face, suddenly paused it.
The frame showed the bag the uploader had set down.
“Su-ji.”
“Yes?”
“This channel might not last long after all. Just like you wanted.”
Kim Sang-jin said this and dialed a number.
Field Response Team Leader Lee Mi-na
She would soon learn the whereabouts of one of the ten new Human Rights Waiver Admission employees assigned to her department.
Click. Click. Click.
“It actually works.”
A beverage vending machine stood there.
There was no outlet, yet the lights were on.
If not for the desiccated corpse beside it, the sight might have been almost welcoming.
The skeleton’s bony hand still clutched an orange juice can.
In my pocket I could feel the few coins I had picked up while walking.
“One coin means certain death, two coins means fifty percent, and only three coins gets you something safe. That’s the rule I set.”
I inserted three coins, retrieved a cola, and slipped it into my pocket.
Then I started recording.
“Ah, hello there, friends. You have no idea how much it helps to talk with all of you in a place where there’s no one else.”
I recited the prepared lines in a voice that was almost theatrical.
“Do you remember what I said last time? This is that vending machine.”
I turned the camera toward the corpse.
“This person probably only put in one or two coins. That’s why they didn’t get almond water.”
Clink. Clink.
I deliberately spaced out the drops so the number of coins would be obvious, then inserted two.
“I’ll probably follow this person with a fifty percent chance.”
Clatter.
I took out the cola that had dispensed and showed it to the camera.
“Unfortunately I only found two coins while wandering around. And I’ve run out of things to drink.”
I pulled out the cola I had prepared earlier, swapped it with the newly dispensed one, and held it up to the phone camera again.
“Since this might be my last video, I think I’ll read a lot of your comments today.”
.
.
.
After roughly thirty minutes of reading comments, I opened the cola can I had prepared.
Pssshhh.
“Whew. I really hope nothing happens when I drink this. Please leave lots of comments, everyone. And don’t forget to subscribe, like, and turn on notifications.”
With those final words I ended the recording and uploaded the video to the gallery.
One more day and this shitty grind is over. Fuck.
“Whew… shit…”
Click. Click. Click.
I swallowed the cola I had just opened and moved away from the vending machine.
I had set the rule that staying within three meters of an anomalous object for more than an hour would result in death.
For some reason, the only person in the gallery who could connect to the internet was WhiteHacker.
So I promised to grant him one favor if I made it out alive and asked him to create a NewTube channel, edit the footage, and upload it.
He went and bought an Indian channel with a hundred thousand subscribers, edited the videos, and posted them.
Once I started filming exactly as instructed, the rules of the Backrooms began changing after just one day.
My videos had a completely different quality from the ones with obvious VHS filters or heavy graphics.
The activity level of those kids was beyond imagination.
At their request, more and more channels started covering my videos, and the traffic flowing in through them increased tremendously.
Thanks to that, it was now safe to say the chance of being blindsided by sudden irrationality was almost zero.
The two Smilers no longer chased me.
I had subtly slipped in the setting that once they tasted blood they would be satisfied.
Instead, I made various objects appear at regular intervals.
Almond water, almond water, almond water, almond water…
Why the hell do our kids like almond water so much?
After I said it would kill you, even more of it started popping up.
Of course I didn’t only add gentle settings.
No one watching Backrooms footage wants the uploader to broadcast a safe and happy live stream.
So instead I wrote in the description or mentioned in the videos the things that would kill you if you didn’t know the rules.
Like that, for example.
A single green tile that stood out against the uniformly yellow floor of the Backrooms.
I tossed the empty can I had just drained onto it without hesitation.
Crunch!
“Whoa, crushing a cola can with a compression press.”
The can that touched the green zone was crushed under immense pressure and flattened into an impossibly thin sheet.
If I had stepped on it, I would have been juiced like a tomato.
Things that could be seen with the naked eye and avoided once known.
I deliberately added lines with that kind of nuance at the start of every video. It gave me a justification to insert safety measures.
The result was a Backrooms that was still insanely dangerous but somehow survivable if you were careful.
This kind of setting play is popular because it makes people think, If I were the uploader, I could avoid it by doing this and that.
Plus the audience is mostly young, so they prefer straightforward, intuitive rules rather than the tangled, complicated ones adults come up with.
Click. Click. Click.
Anyway, thanks to WhiteHacker I had managed to seize control of the Backrooms.
Rejoice, newbie. The money you borrowed from me will be settled with the earnings from here.
No complaints, right?
Even if you do complain, what can you actually do about it?
Just accept it.
The kids were happy to have new content to watch, and WhiteHacker got a nice cut of the profit, so everyone came out winning.
Click. Click. Click.
“Time to get some sleep, I guess.”
Sleeping more than four hours would cause my body to melt in excruciating pain, so I set ten alarms for three and a half hours later.
I briefly regretted not adding an extra hour, but quickly shook my head.
“This is good enough…”
Feeling how full my stomach was, I closed my eyes.
When I opened them again—
“Ugh…”
Almost everywhere except the spot where I had been lying had turned green.
[Photo showing only the yellow floor near where I was lying]
I slept for three hours and woke up to this absolute bullshit.
Threw a coin and it flattened instantly.
What the hell happened?
Only the area right around where I was lying stayed unchanged.
Just before falling asleep I had thought I had seized control of this place, but it seemed I had severely underestimated how much dopamine the outside world craved.
If the video hadn’t been entertaining, the comment saying I should die slowly and start the next series would probably have received the most likes.
Click. Click. Click.
If I could endure another twenty-one hours, the promised week would be over. There shouldn’t be any major problems.
I filmed a new video while panning across the changed scenery and reading comments, then uploaded it.
“Hello again, friends. Did you sleep well? Luckily it seems the cola I drank yesterday wasn’t my last one after all.”
“At this rate I won’t be able to reach the exit I scouted yesterday. There was another spot I had checked out for today.”
“I’m sorry, everyone. In this situation it looks like I’ll have to conserve battery, so I won’t be able to film much.”
Of course I didn’t hide my passive-aggressive tone toward the people who had supported this particular setting, nor the expectant comments meant to help me survive the day.
Since I wouldn’t be able to upload anymore once I got out, the channel was going to explode anyway.
Sorry, but since I nearly died because of you, stay as the reason for the channel’s destruction.
I glanced at the timer I had activated when I first entered.
00:02:57
Three minutes.
There really wasn’t much time left until the full week.
If the Bureau hadn’t lied, they would get me out of here somehow.
If not, I would end up becoming the owner of a liminal space exploration channel…
“Ten, nine, eight, seven…”
The countdown approached zero.
And the instant it was about to hit zero—
“GRAAAAAHHHHH!”
An inhuman scream that could not possibly belong to this world rang out, and my vision flickered.
When I opened my eyes, the gate I had seen seven days ago filled my view.
“I’m alive…”
I had returned to reality.
Overwhelmed with emotion, I felt an enormous wave of exhaustion and collapsed on the spot.
All the tension I had been holding must have released at once.
The moment I was wrapped in relief, grateful simply to be alive—
A woman’s voice came from behind me.
I slowly turned toward the voice. The Field Response Team employee who had thrown me into the Backrooms was standing there with several heavily armed personnel.
“I’d love to celebrate right away, but I have quite a few questions for you, you see.”
Click.
The employee who approached me snapped handcuffs around both my wrists.
“I’d appreciate it if you cooperated nicely, okay?”