“If you make it to the day of the Centennial?” I repeated as Sidney walked away.

Her words hung in the air. The Stranger had said the same thing the day before. Back then it had just sounded like an odd way of saying “See you tomorrow” but when Sidney said it, it made no sense at all.

It was the day of the Centennial. I was sure of it. The NPCs and signage had been clear that the Centennial was the 5th of August. The day before had been the 4th of August.

How were we not on the day of the Centennial?

I looked at the others.

“Oh no,” Bobby said.

“I thought today was the day of the Centennial,” Kimberly said.

We looked around the festivities for a sign, any sign. Unfortunately, there was nothing to set us on the right path.

The Leads board on the red wallpaper simply said:

Leads

The Founder’s Tale.

· Cemetery on Geist Estate [?]

· Jedediah Geist[?]

Nothing that I couldn’t have already memorized.

“If the Centennial isn’t today, does that mean we started everything over?” Antoine asked.

“A time loop?” Isaac asked. “Like Groundhogs Day.”

I was glad there was someone around to pick up my slack on movie references.

“Maybe we didn’t do the storyline right,” Bobby suggested.

We didn’t need to speculate.

“Let’s retrace our steps from yesterday just to be sure,” I said. If it was a time loop, that wasn’t the worst news. That would mean time was on our side.

Possibly.

We quickly walked into the crowds of people enjoying the rides and booths that had already been set up. Like the day before, many booths had not yet been opened because it wasn’t the official start of the Centennial yet.

We were headed to the history displays that the local junior high had put up.

“Wait,” Dina said. Her eyes were on a swivel. “The mayor is over there.”

I followed her gaze and saw that the mayor of Carousel was walking on the same street he had been on when we had seen him the day before.

“His Plot Armor is back to three,” I said.

We watched as he spoke with his assistants about something passionately, how he greeted passersby.

“We need to check on the time capsule,” Antoine said. “That’s the best way to be sure. The old one was dug up yesterday. If everything is happening over again, then the hole won’t be dug yet.”

I agreed mostly. “If we go over there we risk triggering that cutscene where they dig it up again.”

Before we could make a decision, we were accosted by a familiar nondescript face.

“How did you get to Carousel?” The Stranger screamed at us from across the clearing we were standing in. Nice to see he was alive.

I turned to see him as he closed in, the same intense look in his eye I remembered.

As he approached, I could have sworn there was a glint in his eye as he watched our reactions.

“Wait,” he said. “You were here before. I’ve seen you before. You’re not that new. When did you get here?”

He really managed to sound unhinged in a way that made me feel like I might have been the crazy one.

“Yesterday,” I said. “You spoke to us.”

“I did?” he asked. He turned around and thought for a moment. “How many days has that happened?”

“Just the one,” I said.

“Carousel has a hard time letting go of the past,” he said. “You have to find a way forward. If you make it to the day of the Centennial—”

“Come find you?” I asked.

“I guess I’ve said that before,” he answered. “Carousel won’t let me go. There are some of us that still have the hooks in. Others walk around, enjoy the festivities, and look forward to the Centennial that just won't come…. But even Carousel can’t keep this façade up perfectly. You need to move forward before the cracks start to show again.”

I'd get right on that.

“Why is it doing this?” Antoine asked.

The Stranger looked at Antoine and immediately recoiled in pain as if remembering how Antoine had beat his head in with a baseball bat while possessed.

“To let things go forward, you would have to leave things behind,” The Stranger said. He started to walk away but then turned back. “Figure this out quickly. There’s a long way to go.”

And then he left, but not before looking back over his shoulder one last time.

“So it is a time loop,” Isaac said. “We’re just going to do this again.”

I wasn’t sure what The Stranger had meant completely. A time loop would mean everything started over except the memories of those trapped in it, but more than that had changed. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Something felt off. We had not woken in the B&B for one. We still had our prizes from the last storyline.

“The histories then back to the time capsules?” Antoine suggested.

I nodded.

We didn’t need to go to the Diner. That had been a detour.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

----------------------------------------

We approached the line of boards filled with clippings from newspapers and online print-offs. It all appeared the same as I remembered it. That is until I read it. The board on the display said:

> The Founding of Carousel

> August 6, 1922

> The Haunted History of the Geist Family

…

I read the title of the history display again. Then I skimmed through the articles some junior high kid had added to the board in a rush to get the project done.

“August 6th?” I asked. “There is no way this said August 6th. Carousel was founded on the 5th.”

“Great,” Isaac said. “I was worried this would be too straightforward.”

“Today is the 5th,” Antoine said. “Tomorrow is the Centennial on the 6th.”

“Tomorrow the Centennial will still be a day away,” Bobby said. “If I’m following this right.”

Everything else on the board looked the same. The only differences were the dates related to the founding of Carousel.

“What does it mean?” Cassie asked. She hadn’t spoken up all afternoon. “Why change it?”

I had a hunch, but I had to keep looking.

“What are we supposed to do?” Kimberly asked. She wasn’t asking anyone in particular.

I pulled out the little laminated cards we had received for playing the Ten Second Game storyline.

“We got back to the hotel, I bet,” I said. “But this time, we don’t have to do the storyline.”

Our licenses could allow us to break the pattern.

“Are you sure?” Cassie asked, not managing to hide the twinge of desperation in her voice.

“No,” I said. “But it looks that way. We really weren’t directed toward anything else. If any of you know better, speak up. Otherwise, let's get a move on. I’d rather find out sooner rather than later.”

No one had an objection. There were no other clues. It was clear where the path was pointing us. This part of the Throughline was called the Tutorial by the players, after all. I had to hope that meant it was hard to miss something important. Of course, most of the players probably didn't play the full Tutorial if my understanding was correct.

We knew where to go. None of us wanted to go that way, not if it risked us getting close to that Strander Blake character again. The ghosts themselves were unsettling, but a powerful entity with a disregard for the rules was wholly more terrifying.

Cassie was starting to struggle carrying her luggage, so I went and offered to help her with it. Last time she had declined the offer, but this time she didn’t. It must have been difficult to die and then have to get right back into things. When I died, I usually had some time to decompress. Campy Dyer was starting to look like paradise now. I could see why the Vets liked it so much.

It wasn’t long before we were back at the tables where we had somehow snagged the last hotel room in Carousel. Gina, the NPC who had helped us before was back.

Kimberly took the lead again. “We can’t find the people we were supposed to meet up with. Do you know where we could find a hotel?”

“Oh my gosh,” Gina said with the same grin I remembered. “Things are so hectic right now. I bet that’s why you can’t get ahold of them. We can certainly set you up with some rooms. This happens with every big event in Carousel. I can check if anyone has canceled their rooms and maybe we can set you up with a place for the weekend. What do you think?”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Kimberly said softly.

My eyes were over on the patch of dirt that some men had started digging on. The same patch of dirt they had unearthed the impossible time capsule from before. The new time capsule was set out next to it. The mayor and his entourage were all getting into place. Rhonda Moore was walking toward us while talking on her phone.

“I don't care that it's only rainwater; we can't have the you-know-what backing up during the Centennial. You need to get someone to fix it immediately!”

She hung up the phone as she approached us. “Hello! Welcome to Carousel, the town where movies come to life! Is Gina getting you set up with accommodations?”

“Yes,” Kimberly said. “She’s being very helpful.”

“Good!” Rhonda said. “Do you see that over there? That’s the Centennial Time Capsule. We’re burying it tomorrow. Be sure to come check that out!”

“You should go check it out now,” Gina joined in. “It’ll be a moment before I get your room all booked up.”

“Thanks!” Kimberly said.

We all made our way across the square knowing what we would find there.

Carousel’s Centennial Capsule—A Hundred Years of Fun!

Buried August 6, 2022.

Do not open for One Hundred Years!

Carousel Loves Families!

It was set to be buried tomorrow.

The mayor made his way over and gave his spiel.

“I see you are admiring our new tradition!” Mayor Gray said enthusiastically as we walked up. “Well, she goes into the ground soon, never to be seen again for a hundred years. Isn’t that exciting?”

He presented the letter he intended to drop in.

“By the time you leave, you will be a believer in my vision for this place. It will be a place of prosperity, of happiness, of reconciliation between what has been and what can be. Do you know who said that?”

“Silas Dyrkon,” I answered.

“That’s right!” the mayor yelled as if I had solved world hunger. “Most attribute the quote to Bartholomew Geist, but in truth, Silas Dyrkon was every bit the visionary as Geist. He just wasn’t as skilled at marketing himself. You know the town's mascot, Silas the Mechanical Showman is named after him, don’t you?”

“I didn’t know that,” I said.

The conversation would have continued further, but then, as had happened before, the men digging the hole for the time capsule had clanged their shovels against something metal.

They dug it out and the mayor wiped off the dirt.

Carousel’s Time Capsule!

A Hundred Years of Thrills--Here’s to a Hundred More!

DO NOT OPEN UNTIL August 6, 2092.

Buried August 6, 1992, during Carousel’s Centennial Celebration

This time, I wanted to see inside, except I couldn’t. Rhonda Moore, once again, had used one of her Team Leader tropes to encourage us to stay back and watch. The script wasn’t going to let us see inside that easily.

We had to watch the debate about opening it again.

Everything happened word for word. Constance argued it was a prank. Kitty Lincoln thought it was filled with anthrax or explosives.

The back and forth.

And then Madam Celia returned and gave her speech to the mayor, who was just as rattled as before.

“You will open the capsule. That’s what I have to say. Whether it is now, tomorrow, or the next day, or thirty more years from now, you will open it. When you do, you will figure out what message the past has for us. The voices of the dead can be louder than the living here in Carousel. When they choose to speak, you will hear them. There is no use delaying what will happen. There is even less use ignoring what already did.”

That was all it took to convince the poor little NPC mayor to open the time capsule.

His Plot Armor jumped back up the fifty. He locked it back up.

“Have this brought to my offices… the ones at the clock tower. We should get the hole covered with a tarp so we can bury the proper time capsule tomorrow as planned. Can someone remind me of when it is supposed to rain again?"

"Two days from now," Rhonda answered quickly.

They all dispersed. The cogs were turning. I was starting to see how the beginning of the Throughline worked. The town was a world left waiting for something to happen.

As if to drive home the point further, something did happen.

A woman’s scream sounded in the distance. Everyone looked back toward the festivities. The woman wasn’t being attacked or harmed.

She was going into labor.

A nurse, the same nurse we had seen at the hospital’s booth the day before, was escorting the pregnant woman toward a nearby parking lot.

It could have been nothing. Maybe we had been here too late to see that happen the day before, but I didn’t think so. It was an obvious clue meant to drive home what had been going on in Carousel within the story of the Throughline.

Every day, people would get up and go through their lives as if it were the day before the Centennial. The schools had a half day. Families would come to ride the rides and play the games that had already been set up.

Time didn’t stay still though. People had babies, got injuries, lived, and died. The entire cast changed out except for the Paragons and, if Sidney’s situation was common, their families.

The people of Carousel’s lives moved forward with the date, all except for the part Carousel cared about. The story we were meant to follow.

This wasn’t a time loop.

It was a continuity loop. The story wouldn’t move forward until someone moved it. Carousel was holding it in place. It was like in a video game when you don’t trigger the first quest, the game just stays in limbo until you arrive. Even if thirty years pass, the game is ready for you to start the plot.

Something was supposed to happen the day before the Centennial. Something we were meant to have a part in. I didn’t know what.

But not everything was caught on this eternal treadmill.

The weather, for instance, was not affected. Yesterday, the forecast said it was three days until a rainstorm arrived. Today, it was only two days.

Rhonda Moore had been scripted to inform us that the sewers under the town were in need of repair.

It was all coming together.

It would soon fall apart.