We entered the Inverted Tower together. Gravity worked in reverse; we walked on the ceiling as the floor receded upward. The tower was filled with "world memories"—scenes from the original novel floating like holograms.
"The Heart of the Code is at the top," Kai (the Hero's real name in the story) said. "But the Fixer is waiting. He doesn't let anyone reach the control center."
As we climbed—or rather, descended upward—the walls whispered lines from my old reader reviews: "Dialogue weak", "Hero doesn't develop", "Predictable ending".
I felt guilty. These words fueled the system.
"Kai," I said, dodging a falling digital boulder, "I'm sorry. I was part of the problem."
Kai smiled faintly. "Doesn't matter. Today, we write an ending no reader can predict."
The tower shook violently. The Fixer appeared mid-air, no longer in a white shirt but glowing code-armor, holding a light-absorbing sword.
"You broke script!" he screamed. "I'll erase you both and rewrite!"