The Generic Getaway Van sputtered to a halt in the middle of the Unrendered Void. The grey nothingness stretched out in all directions, broken only by the occasional floating pixel or a discarded texture file labeled [TREE_04.PNG].
"We're here," Elara Vance announced, turning off the engine.
"Where is 'here'?" Aldren asked, peeling himself off the vinyl seat. His "Night Mammal Man" t-shirt was stained with whipped cream from the previous battle, and his plastic cape was sticking to his back. "I see nothing but the abyss. It is soothing, but hardly a vacation destination."
"It's a blank canvas," Elara said, stepping out. She held up her tablet, which was now running a program called [SCENE_BUILDER_LITE]. "The Critic is charging his Final Judgment beam. According to the pacing algorithms, we have exactly twenty-two minutes before the climax. If we try to fight him now, we lose. We're under-leveled, under-budget, and frankly, you guys look ridiculous."
"I am distinct!" Li Wusheng argued, waddling out of the van. His foam-rubber monster suit squeaked with every step. "My silhouette is unmistakable!"
"You have a zipper on your neck, Li," Elara sighed. "We can't fight the Critic. We have to bore him."
She tapped the screen.
IMPORT ASSET: [BEACH_SET_BUDGET]
The grey void shimmered. With a sound like a wet towel hitting a floor, the environment changed.
It wasn't a real beach. It was a set.
The "sand" was clearly beige carpet. The "ocean" was a large blue tarp laid out on the floor, with a fan blowing on it to simulate waves. The "sun" was a 60-watt lightbulb hanging from a wire in the sky. And in the background, a poorly painted mural of palm trees leaned against the invisible wall of the universe.
"Behold," Elara said. "The Filler Episode."
"This is insultingly low effort," Aldren noted, walking onto the beige carpet. "The ocean has wrinkles."
"It's supposed to be bad, Aldren!" Elara hissed. "We need to lower the stakes so much that the Critic thinks the plot has stalled. If we do anything exciting—if we reveal a secret, or have a character breakthrough, or fight a monster—he'll keep watching. But if we spend twenty minutes hitting a volleyball and eating watermelon... he'll hit 'Skip'."
"The 'Fast Forward' maneuver," Rex Chord nodded, tuning his ukulele. "Risky. If he skips too far, we might end up in the Epilogue without resolving the plot."
"It's a risk we have to take," Elara said. "Now, get changed. Beach attire is mandatory for the trope."
A flash of light (and a puff of cheap smoke) engulfed the team.
Aldren emerged wearing his "Night Mammal" mask... and floral-print swim trunks over his black leggings. He also had inflatable arm-floaties shaped like bats.
"I feel a deep, spiritual shame," Aldren whispered.
Li Wusheng's foam monster suit now had a snorkel glued to the mask and a rubber ducky inner tube around his waist.
Jen was wearing a vintage 1920s wool bathing suit that covered her from neck to ankles. "Why this?" she asked.
"Because you're the 'Sensible One'," Elara explained. "Now, start frolicking. But not too enthusiastically. We need 'forced whimsy'."
The "Beach Episode" began.
Rex Chord sat on a plastic lawn chair, strumming a gentle, looping melody on his ukulele. "Tropical breeze... blowing through the polyester trees..."
Elara stood by the "camera" (a cardboard box with a lens drawn on it), directing the action.
"Okay, Li! Go play in the water!"
Li waddled toward the blue tarp. He stood on the edge, looked at the fan blowing the plastic, and then slowly lowered himself onto the tarp.
"I am... swimming," Li announced in a monotone voice. He flailed his stiff foam arms. "Splash. Splash. The water is... room temperature."
[CRITIC RATING: 2.0 STARS.][NOTE: PACING IS SLOW. WHY IS THE MONSTER SWIMMING?]
"Good!" Elara whispered. "He's confused. Lower the rating! Aldren, look brooding but festive!"
Aldren stood under the 60-watt sun. He crossed his arms. His Color Timer—the blue bicycle light—blinked slowly.
"The sun," Aldren recited. "It mocks my darkness. Yet... I must tan. For justice."
He applied sunscreen to his plastic mask.
[CRITIC RATING: 1.8 STARS.][NOTE: DIALOGUE IS INANE. GET ON WITH IT.]
"He's getting bored," Elara grinned. "Jen! Initiate the Volleyball Sequence!"
Jen grabbed a beach ball. "Hey guys! Who wants to play a game with zero consequences?"
"I do!" Rex shouted unconvincingly.
They gathered on the beige carpet. Jen served the ball. It floated slowly through the air.
Aldren watched it coming. His vampire instincts screamed at him to spike it with supernatural force. He wanted to unleash a "Night Wing Smash." But he remembered the plan.
He let the ball hit him in the face.
BONK.
"Oh no," Aldren droned. "My reflexes. They are on vacation."
Li tried to dive for the ball, but his suit was too stiff. He just tipped over like a statue. THUD.
"I have fallen," Li stated. "And I cannot get up. This is humorous."
[CRITIC RATING: 1.5 STARS.][NOTE: ANIMATION QUALITY HAS DROPPED. IS THIS A RECAP EPISODE?]
"He's wavering!" Elara checked the tablet. The Red Line in the sky—which was currently hovering over the "set"—was starting to flicker. The Critic's attention span was drifting. "We need one final push. The ultimate Filler Trope."
She reached into the van and pulled out an object.
It was a watermelon.
But not just any watermelon. It was a "Prop Watermelon." It was made of Styrofoam and painted a neon green that didn't exist in nature.
"The Watermelon Splitting Game," Elara announced. "The pinnacle of narrative stalling."
She placed the Styrofoam melon on the carpet. She handed Li a plastic baseball bat.
"Li, you're up. Put on the blindfold."
"I am already wearing a mask with tiny eye-holes," Li grumbled. "I am legally blind in this suit."
"Perfect. Spin around ten times."
Li spun. Or rather, he shuffled in a circle, his tail knocking over the 60-watt sun stand.
"Whoops," Rex improvised. "Eclipse!"
Li stumbled toward the watermelon. He raised the plastic bat.
"Focus your Qi," Elara directed. "Feel the fruit."
"I feel only polyester," Li said.
He swung.
He missed by three feet.
He swung again. He hit the van.
He swung a third time. He hit Aldren in the shin.
"Ow," Aldren said flatly. "My leg. The tragedy."
[CRITIC RATING: 1.2 STARS.][NOTE: THIS IS UNWATCHABLE. NOTHING IS HAPPENING.]
"It's working!" Elara whispered. "He's hovering over the Skip button! Keep going! Aldren, give me a dramatic monologue about the watermelon!"
Aldren stepped forward. He knelt beside the Styrofoam fruit. His Color Timer began to beep faster, not from anxiety, but from the sheer effort of acting poorly.
"Alas, poor melon," Aldren declaimed, holding a plastic skull (where did he get that?) next to the fruit. "You are green. Like envy. But inside... are you red? Like blood? Or are you... empty? Like this plotline?"
He looked at the camera. He paused for an uncomfortable amount of time. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds.
"The silence," Aldren whispered. "It is loud."
[CRITIC RATING: 1.0 STAR.][NOTE: SKIPPING TO NEXT CHAPTER.]
The sky suddenly lurched.
The "Fast Forward" didn't feel like movement. It felt like being stretched. The air turned into streaks of light. The sound of Rex's ukulele sped up into a high-pitched chipmunk squeal. Day and night flickered like a strobe light—the 60-watt sun turning on and off rapidly.
"Hold onto something!" Elara yelled. "The Three-Minute Rule is in effect! We have to survive the time skip without glitching out!"
"I feel my textures tearing!" Li shouted, his foam suit vibrating violently. "My zipper is becoming a wormhole!"
"My Color Timer!" Aldren screamed. BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEEEEEP. "It's out of sync with the frame rate!"
The world around them dissolved. The "Beach Set" rotted away in seconds—the beige carpet molding, the blue tarp disintegrating, the Styrofoam watermelon turning to dust.
They were hurtling through the narrative timeline, bypassing the "Final Judgment."
They saw flashes of what would have happened if they had stayed.
Flash: A giant CGI monster destroying Seattle.Flash: Princess Perfecta sacrificing herself in a tearful 4K cutscene.Flash: Silas Vane giving a villain monologue that went on for six pages.
"We're skipping the budget!" Jen laughed hysterically, clutching the steering wheel of the stationary van as the universe moved around it.
"Almost there!" Elara watched the tablet. "The timeline is stabilizing! Prepare for the drop!"
The streaks of light slammed to a halt.
The team collapsed onto the floor. The "Beach" was gone. They were back on solid ground.
Elara gasped, checking her limbs. She was still wearing the beige apron (over her tactical gear), but the "Beach Filter" was gone.
"Did we make it?" Aldren asked. He was lying face down. His floaties had popped.
Elara looked up.
They were no longer in the Unrendered Void. They were standing on a massive, floating platform made of obsidian and red ink. The sky above them was a swirling vortex of millions of screaming faces.
And directly in front of them, sitting on a chair made of "Deleted Scenes," was a figure.
It wasn't a monster. It wasn't a god.
It was a man in a tweed jacket with elbow patches. He held a red pen the size of a spear. His face was blurring, shifting constantly—one second he was an angry old man, the next a crying teenager, the next a cynical blogger.
The Critic.
He looked up from a stack of paper. He checked his watch.
"You're early," The Critic said. His voice was a chorus of contradictory opinions. "I skipped the apocalypse because the pacing dragged. But now... now we have a pacing issue of a different kind."
He stood up. The platform shook.
"You skipped the Act 3 Climax," The Critic growled. "Which means you haven't learned your lesson. You haven't suffered enough to earn the ending."
He raised the Red Pen.
"And if you won't suffer narratively... I'll have to make you suffer editorially."
Elara stood up. She looked at her ridiculous team—a vampire in swim trunks, a monk in a rotting foam suit, a cyborg with a broken ukulele.
"We didn't skip the lesson," Elara said, her hand going to the Prime Input tablet. "We just edited out the boring parts."
The Critic narrowed his eyes (all million of them).
"Is that so?" The Critic sneered. "Then let's see how you handle a Negative Review Bomb."
He slammed the Red Pen into the ground.
Ink exploded upward. But it wasn't liquid. It was Monsters.
Monsters made of bad CGI. Monsters made of plot holes. Monsters made of the one thing every creator fears:
The One-Star Comment.
A creature shaped like a thumbs-down symbol, covered in spikes, roared at them.
[MONSTER: "THIS MAKES NO SENSE"]
Another creature, made of tangled wires, slithered forward.
[MONSTER: "LAZY WRITING"]
"Aldren," Elara said quietly. "How's that Color Timer?"
Aldren looked at his chest. The blue light was steady. But as he looked at the monsters—monsters made of pure criticism—his anxiety spiked.
BEEP.
"It is... resonant," Aldren whispered.
"Good," Elara said. "Because we're not fighting with budget anymore. We're fighting with Conviction."