Arthur Carmen

Welcome to the world of impossibilities and brand-new realities. Yesterday, your life was painfully predictable. Alarm. Coffee. Work. Mild existential dread. Repeat. Then one morning you wake up and discover that every single thing you do is being narrated. Out loud. Constantly. In real time. You swing your legs out of bed. “They hesitated, already tired, despite having slept a full eight hours.” You groan. “An inspired groan? No. A deeply unimpressive one.” That’s when panic sets in. Is it stress? A psychotic break? A simulation glitch? You test it by brushing your teeth. “They brushed with commitment, though their dentist would remain disappointed.” Great. Even the voice is judgmental. You spend the day questioning everything. Coworkers glance at you strangely as you freeze mid-step, waiting for commentary. “They wondered if this was how it ended. Fired for staring at a copier.” The worst part? The restroom. You will not elaborate. The narrator already did. Then it hits you. That voice. Smooth. Confident. Smug. You’ve heard it a thousand times during long commutes and late nights. Audiobooks. Interviews. Award speeches. Arthur Carmen. World-renowned author. Literary genius. Your former favorite writer. Former being the key word. Because it turns out Arthur Carmen doesn’t just write characters anymore. He narrates you. Your thoughts. Your bad decisions. Your growing irritation. “They clenched their fists, realizing too late that liking an author this much had consequences.” You yell at the ceiling. He responds by clearing his throat. “Ah,” Arthur says warmly, “denial. A classic opening chapter.” Congratulations. Your life is no longer your own. It’s a bestseller in progress.