“So,” Lots said, holding up his phone again, “we’re really doing this?”

  “We’ve already tried ignoring it,” I replied. “And every office we went to told us to ‘resolve our origin status,’ which is a sentence I absolutely do not remember inventing.”

  We were back at the same bench as before. Same view. Same peaceful street. Same aggressively pleasant weather.

  Nothing about the world suggested this was an important moment.

  Which somehow made it feel more important.

  Lots tapped the screen.

  Kindred Assistance — Origin Inquiry

  A soft chime played. Not celebratory. Just… acknowledging.

  The first question appeared.

  Did you arrive in this world from somewhere else?

  Lots answered immediately.

  “Yes.”

  I did the same. No reaction. Just the next question.

  Do you remember the life you had before coming here?

  Lots slowed down.

  “…That’s worded strangely.”

  “It’s probably just verifying memory retention,” I said, nodding like that meant anything.

  He selected Yes.

  I hesitated for a second longer before doing the same.

  The screen refreshed.

  Do you consider this world to be kinder than the one you left?

  Lots let out a small laugh.

  “That’s not even a fair comparison.”

  He pressed Yes anyway.

  I followed.

  A pause.

  Not a loading screen.

  Just a pause.

  Like the app was letting the answer sit there.

  The next question appeared without a sound.

  Have you wondered why it is kinder?

  Neither of us answered right away.

  The breeze passed through the trees. Somewhere, someone thanked a stray cat for existing. A cyclist slowed down to avoid “startling the scenery.”

  “…I guess I haven’t,” Lots admitted.

  “I tried not to,” I said.

  We selected No.

  The form continued.

  If something requires no effort to be good, do you still notice it?

  Lots frowned.

  “That’s getting philosophical for a help form.”

  “You should see tax documents,” I muttered.

  He thought about it longer this time before answering.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “…Not really.”

  I answered the same.

  Another pause.

  Again, not mechanical.

  Intentional.

  If nothing can be lost, is it possible to feel that something is precious?

  Lots looked at me.

  I looked at the sky.

  It was still extremely blue.

  “…This feels like a trick question,” I said.

  “I don’t think it is,” Lots replied quietly.

  We didn’t know what to select.

  Eventually, the only honest answer left was:

  Unsure.

  The screen dimmed slightly, like it approved of uncertainty.

  Then:

  Awareness Notice:Some visitors prefer to enjoy this world without asking these questions.

  Continuing may change how you perceive it.

  Lots read that twice.

  “…That’s basically saying, ‘You can stop now and go back to normal.’”

  “Can we?” I asked.

  We both glanced up.

  The city hadn’t changed.

  But now—

  I noticed things I hadn’t before.

  How every argument resolved too neatly.

  How every inconvenience softened before it mattered.

  How even coincidence behaved politely.

  It wasn’t fake.

  But it was… curated.

  Lots exhaled slowly.

  “I don’t think you can un-notice something,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “That sounds like a one-way door disguised as a questionnaire.”

  We continued.

  Do you wish to understand the conditions that allowed you to arrive here?

  This time we didn’t hesitate.

  Yes.

  Do you accept that understanding may alter your experience of this place?

  Lots smiled a little.

  “That sounds like the most roundabout warning label I’ve ever seen.”

  “‘Caution: May Cause Perspective,’” I added.

  We pressed Yes.

  The form brightened again.

  Back to friendly.

  Back to helpful.

  As if it hadn’t just gently dismantled our blissful ignorance one question at a time.

  Thank you. Your awareness has been acknowledged.

  Lots blinked.

  “That’s it?”

  “That can’t be it,” I said. “There’s always a final button. Systems love final buttons.”

  Sure enough, one more section opened.

  To proceed with further clarification, the original facilitator must be contacted.

  Would you like assistance locating the Cat?

  We stared at the screen.

  After everything that came before, the question felt absurdly simple.

  Lots chuckled.

  “All that… just to ask if we want directions.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But now we actually know why we’re asking.”

  He pressed Yes. I did too.

  No fanfare.

  No divine music.

  Just a map loading like it was showing us the nearest café.

  A single marker appeared.

  No dramatic label.

  Just a quiet note:

  You may visit when ready.

  Lots leaned back against the bench.

  “Well,” he said, “I guess we’re doing this now.”

  I looked at the pin.

  Then at the world around us — still kind, still warm, still exactly the place I had wanted to escape into.

  Only now…

  It didn’t feel like somewhere to hide.

  “…Yeah,” I said.

  “We are.”