Info
Written by Mctoran.
Original concept for Baughust created by Smith Machine.
It was a rather slow shift at The Middlesorts. Ben sat watching the TV, his attention glued to the screen as his spindly arm contorted and zig-zagged behind him to reach into a tube of Prongles. “These shows ur pish; whit were the producers hinkin'?” He grumbled, munching on a handful of chips. Contrary to his seemingly casual demeanor, the current work environment in The Middlesorts was in fact quite stressful. The tension of their duties loomed heavily over all their heads like the gathering clouds of a storm.
Simon walked into the room, upon which Ben scrambled to attempt appearing productive. “Ben, quit slacking and get back to w-” Simon paused to observe several prongles flying through the air as Ben lunged towards his work station. “…You know what, forget about it.” He waved his hand in dismissal as he approached the desk. “Molly, what is the progress on damage control? Corporate is due to arrive soon for their audit.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m workin’ on it. Ava’s covering reception…” Molly flusteredly huffed.
Simon turned to glance at Ava, frantically working the desk. One foot clutched a phone against her ear, while the other furiously typed away at the keyboard of the terminal, and all the while she used the crook of one leg to hold a pen and write down notes on paper. He then looked back at Molly, now thumbing through an issue of Forbes from U-000000. “‘Finally, The Internet Found "The Backrooms"’…” She read aloud. “It seems like this whole incident has had farther-reaching consequences than we thought…” Molly then turned her attention to the terminal in front of her, reading through several reports. “Daedos has taken a real beating from this whole ordeal. Thankfully, The Stack's structural integrity remains largely intact. But a crucial knot has taken a lot of damage.” She glanced over at the horned Keymaster, who was currently transporting a Traveler to Level 119. “This is all largely his fault, yet it feels like we’re being punished more harshly than him. We're the ones who have to actually clean up his mess, and what's his punishment? Unpaid internship. And he's only here because that last guy bailed out on us and caused one of those exclamation levels to go to shit!”
Simon shrugged. “I know it's not fair, but this is our job, and if we value it, we need to clean up this mess…”
Molly sighed. "I know…" She looked back at the monitor. “The only way to fix this is to send in a team of specialized workers to repair the damage.”
“But where can we even find the bodies for such an operation?” asked Ben.
Suddenly, a new commercial proceeded to play on the TV. A humanoid figure appeared on the screen, with a TV not unlike the one playing the commercial affixed upon his shoulders in place of a conventional "head". He stood before the backdrop of a nondescript, dimly-lit liminal level. “You there!” The figure exclaimed, pointing towards the viewers. “Yes, you four! Molly, Ben, Simon and Ava!” The four Corpus Cores unanimously looked at the TV, then at each other, and then back to the TV. “We all know The Backrooms is vast, endless, and… let’s face it, a bit unsettling.” The camera zoomed out to reveal the figure wearing a professional uniform bearing the logo of "Backrooms Remodeling Co.", as he began walking confidently through the halls. He carried a clipboard in hand, occasionally gesturing to different areas. “-But what if The Backrooms could be more than just an eerie labyrinth? What if they could be a place of comfort, style, and even luxury?” The figure reached a door and opened it, revealing a beautifully remodeled well-lit room with modern furniture, vibrant colors, and stylish decor. “At Backrooms Remodeling Co, we specialize in transforming the unnerving into the unbelievable. Whether it’s a complete overhaul or a touch of finesse, our team of experts turns your vision into reality.”
The commercial cut to a faceling in a newly renovated room, sitting on a chair surrounded by several TV-Heads. “Thanks to Backrooms Remodeling Co, my space truly feels like home.” The faceling said, albeit in a manner which sounded forced. One of the TV-Heads standing beside the faceling seemed to be holding something against the faceling’s back from behind the chair.
The commercial abruptly cut back to the figure, looking directly at the camera. “At Backrooms Remodeling Co, your satisfaction is our top priority. We’re here to turn your endless corridors into endless possibilities.” A phone number then displayed at the bottom of the screen. “Call 𑪟༒౷-᳄፠᳀-༇๚𞥞꡴ for your consultation today!”
The Corpus Cores looked amongst each other once again.
“I dinnae ken, maybe we should jist dae it…” Ben murmured.
Molly scoffed. “Really? With their track record? When was the last time a job did not end in disaster? This will only give the auditors more ammunition.”
Simon cleared his throat. “As much as I hate to admit it, Ben is probably right. In any other event I would immediately veto this, but we are under extenuating circumstances.”
“Better hurry! Time is running out!” The figure on the TV shouted.
Molly sighed exasperatedly. “Fiiiiine.” She picked up a phone, proceeding to begin punching in the number begrudgingly.
“Excellent choice!” Exclaimed the figure on the TV.
Before Molly could even finish dialing, a team of Salarymen suddenly stormed into the office, parading a headless corpse which they proceeded to affix the TV to. The body twitched to life and sprung to its feet, the screen changing its display. “Ah, apologies for the long commute…” he said, stretching his body and dusting off his suit before facing the Corpus Cores. “Now, then, to business.” He pulled out a clipboard and pen, clicking it open. “What services would you like for the Remodeling Company to provide?”
Molly began to explain. “Well, you see-”
The figure suddenly raised a finger to interrupt them. “-Ah! Don't tell me…you need repairs to Knot Null?”
“Well, yes. But how can we be sure this won’t worsen things?”
“I understand your hesitancy to enlist our services — especially considering our previous attempts at renovating this particular knot. But I assure you, this work is just as much in our interests as it is in yours. The recent crisis has destabilized and displaced much of Daedos, but that leaves our line of work in high demand — especially with Etinil. There is much profit to be made, so rest assured that we do not want to lose an opportunity such as this.”
The Corpus Cores looked amongst each other once again, before Simon nodded. “Alright then, we’ll do it.”
A wide grin of static tore across the screen on the figure’s head. “Wonderful…” He extended his clipboard and pen to Simon. “Just sign here.”
Simon briefly skimmed the fine print of the contract, finding phrases such as "loss of life", "spaghettification", and "horrors beyond comprehension".
“-Oh, don't worry about any of that legal mumbo jumbo, it’s not important. Just sign it and we can proceed,” the figure interjected, pointing to the signature line impatiently.
Simon sighed with resignation, writing his name on the line. Immediately, the gathering of Salarymen applauded in rejoice.
The figure clasped his hands together excitedly. “Now, then, what form of new life do you wish to breathe into this knot? I hear furniture stores and RC hobby shops are all the rage these days.”
Molly shook her head. “O-oh, no, I’m afraid you misunderstand. We don’t want a complete renovation —just damage repairs.”
The figure nodded. “Ah, I see. Very well, then…” With the snap of his fingers, the workers scrambled off to initiate the job.
Before long, a team of TV-Heads were deployed into Level 0, overseen and directed by a Foreman. Live video feeds and several still images were streamed directly from the brains of the workers to a terminal in the Middlesorts, displaying real-time progress on the repairs and renovations.
Surprisingly, the work swiftly proceeded at an efficient pace. Out went the nasty old carpet, leaving in its place pristine hardwood; though the carpet staples were a pain to pry from the floor. Reality Fresheners were then installed, reversing liminalization in the environment. A TV-Head stood triumphantly atop a heap of rolled-up carpet, like a hunter above a vanquished beast.
The Corpus Cores began to feel hopeful. Perhaps this job would be completed without incident, everything would be fixed, and everything would work out.
However, this hope was quickly snuffed out when one of the live video feeds was suddenly cut off. “I’ve lost visuals on one of the workers…” Molly stammered. It seemed that the worker was in fact missing from the entire site, as several TV-Heads and even the Foreman reported them being left unaccounted for. Molly then attempted to pinpoint the location of the missing worker, only to become further puzzled. “Their last recorded position was somewhere in the Ginnungagap, approximately at the coordinate point 146,460,486, 355,169,123,7,413,234,105,123.”
“We’ve lost all signal from that worker now,” Simon reported, surveying the situation from another terminal. “One last image was sent over first, but it’s heavily corrupted. It’s currently being decrypted, but Koko and Juna are both losing their shit over whatever it is.”
Molly peered closer at the monitor, as the image gradually loaded. She could already tell it was heavily contaminated by phenomenon 43, judging by the way it moved as if alive. She could almost feel it “speaking” to her, whispering the deepest secrets of the omniverse in a language forgotten by all. When the image finally loaded, Molly gasped in shock at what she saw staring back at her. A red, beady eye, stirred from an eternal slumber.
“…Holy shit. The auditors will really kill us now…”
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