Reality

2023-10-30

Chapter 4: Observations

The soft golden rays of the morning sun filtered through the branches, casting dappled patterns on the park's dew-kissed grass. Birds chirped in the background, their songs harmonizing with the distant sounds of the waking city.

David arrived at their usual meeting spot, a quaint wooden bench overlooking a serene pond. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm the unease that had been gnawing at him since he woke up. He took out a small notebook from his bag and started jotting down a few points, lost in thought.

A few minutes later, Jacob ambled in, his usual sarcastic grin in place. "Another beautiful day in... wherever we are," he quipped, referencing their shared predicament.

David chuckled weakly, "You have no idea, Jake. My street... it's changed."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Changed how?"

"The name," David replied, frustration evident in his voice. "I've lived on 'Cedar Lane' for years. This morning, the sign said 'Maple Street'. I thought I was losing it. So, I asked my parents, and they just looked at me like I was crazy, saying it's always been Maple Street."

Jacob leaned back, processing the information. "I haven't noticed any street name changes. But then again, it's hard to notice when you're busy trying to figure out if your cereal brand has been rewritten."

Their banter was interrupted by the arrival of Alice. She looked pensive, her usually calm demeanor slightly ruffled. Without any pleasantries, she got straight to the point. "It's not just your street, David. I noticed it too. The coffee shop I visit every weekend? It's now 'Brewed Delights' instead of 'Café Serenity'. And before you ask, no, it's not a rebranding."

David looked at her, a mix of relief and concern in his eyes. "So, it's not just me."

Alice shook her head, her blunt nature shining through. "Definitely not. And I think it's bigger than we initially thought. We need to start documenting these changes systematically."

Jacob, ever the skeptic, interjected, "Before we jump down this rabbit hole, are we absolutely certain we're not just... misremembering things? Human memory is fickle."

Alice fixed him with a piercing gaze, her voice firm. "I know what I saw, Jacob. And I trust David's observations as well. We're not making this up."

Jacob held up his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm just playing devil's advocate. I've seen my fair share of oddities too. I just want to be sure before we dive deeper into this."

David, sensing the tension, stepped in, "Let's just focus on what we know. And more importantly, let's find out if anyone else is experiencing these... glitches."

In the secluded section of the library, David, Jacob, and Alice reconvened, notes and observations sprawled across the table. With their prior observations confirming the bizarre reality shifts, the focus now was on discerning a pattern.

David began, "So, we know something is happening. But what's the common thread?"

Alice, always keen on details, added, "Most of the changes have been at school. Maybe it's location-based?"

Jacob pulled out a detailed map he'd sketched of the school, marking spots where they'd observed changes. "There's a concentration around the central courtyard and the main building."

David pondered, "So, more frequented areas have more changes? Places with more... collective memories?"

Alice nodded thoughtfully, "That makes sense. The places students pass through most often."

Jacob flipped through his notebook, "There's another thing. Big, established details remain the same. The school's location, the principal's name, the overall structure. But smaller details, like a missing bench or a changed classroom poster, fluctuate."

David looked intrigued, "It's like the smaller details are more malleable. Easier to shift."

Alice proposed an idea, "Let's test it. We'll make deliberate, small changes in the school and observe. Like moving a classroom's desk arrangement or swapping out posters."

For the next few days, the trio executed their plan. They made subtle changes, ensuring not to disrupt the overall school environment but enough to test their theory. And sure enough, some of these changes reverted, while others remained.

Jacob, always the logical one, started documenting these shifts meticulously, "It's like there's a certain 'threshold' for changes. Minor ones can flip, but major ones are anchored."

Alice added, "And all these changes revolve around collective memory. The more people familiar with a detail, the harder it is to change."

David's face lit up with realization, "That's it! It's a game of collective perception. If we can predict what most students are unaware of, we can anticipate the shifts."

Jacob, holding a notepad with scribbles and arrows, leaned in, "You know, I thought the classroom clocks changing time was just a battery issue. But three clocks, all lagging by exactly seven minutes? That's no coincidence."

David flipped open a textbook, pointing to a passage. "This paragraph here, about the school's founding date. It changed from June to July. I bet most students don't even know the exact month."

Alice took a deep breath, "Yesterday, I moved a potted plant from the east wing to the west. It was back in its original spot today. I doubt anyone even noticed its brief absence."

Jacob raised an eyebrow, "The school's trophy cabinet. Remember the football trophy from three years ago? It's missing now. And honestly, who remembers a victory from three years ago?"

David nodded, "So, it's not just about the number of people who know a fact, but the intensity of their memories. A recent win would be fresh in their minds, but an old one?"

Alice looked thoughtful, "This is bigger than just our school. It's about the human psyche, collective consciousness. The shared memories, the common knowledge we all hold."

David leaned back, "It's like... the more solidly embedded a memory is in the collective mind, the harder it is to change. Like trying to erase a mark from a thick sheet of paper compared to a thin one."

Jacob smirked, "So, if we can anticipate the weak points, the 'thin sheets' of collective memory, we can stay ahead of the shifts."

Alice, ever the voice of reason, added, "But we need to be careful. We're treading on unknown territory. We don't know the implications or consequences."

Jacob's sarcastic wit came to the forefront, "What's the worst that could happen? We wake up and the school's become a circus?"

David gave him a light shove, "Don't jinx it. But Alice is right. We proceed with caution."

Alice pulled out a small notebook, "Let's keep this updated. Everything we notice, every change, every observation. We need to understand the limits, the boundaries."

"Hey, Jacob, remember that weekend hike we took last month to Blue Ridge Mountains? The view from the summit was incredible. And those candies we bought from that old store at the base? They had that odd but addictive flavor."

Jacob nodded in agreement, "Absolutely. That sunrise? Worth every exhausting step. And those candies... I remember not being able to place the flavor. I left some in my backpack." He began rummaging through his bag. "It was a great break from all the craziness."

Alice, who had been listening to their conversation with growing confusion, finally spoke up. "Blue Ridge Mountains? Wasn't that area closed off for reforestation last month?"

David and Jacob exchanged confused glances. "No, it was open when we went. And I distinctly remember those candies." David started scrolling through his phone, trying to locate photos he took.

Alice pulled out her phone, scrolling through a news article she'd saved. "I was considering going there for a solo hike, but then I saw this announcement." She turned the screen toward them, revealing a headline: Blue Ridge Mountains Closed for Reforestation: All Activities Suspended.

David's brows furrowed, "I can't find the photos."

Jacob, after emptying half the contents of his bag onto the table, looked up despondently. "The candies... they're gone. But I swear they were in here."

David raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the mystery of the missing candies. "That's strange. I vividly remember you buying them. Heck, I even remember us laughing about that bizarre flavor. It tasted like... was it a mix of cherry and mint?"

Jacob nodded in agreement, "Exactly! It was such an unusual combination, but it somehow worked."

Alice, watching the two intently, slowly interjected, "I've never heard of cherry-mint candies. And I certainly don't recall any weekend trip you both went on."

David shook his head, "We talked about that trip in school, remember? I even showed you the candy wrapper."

Alice's voice took on a more serious tone, "David, I remember you talking about a hike, but not that mountain. And certainly not those candies."

The weight of the revelation hung heavily between them. Their shared memories, their anchor in this shifting reality, had just been thrown into question. Was their collective memory really infallible? Or were there more cracks in their understanding than they realized?

Jacob, trying to lighten the mood, quipped, "Guess we can't trust anything anymore, not even our memories."

David, however, looked lost in thought, "If our memories aren't consistent... what else might we be missing?"