UPLOADED BY: ANONYMOUS

>>Well, it’s not really the last narrative in the sense that the other interview is taking place at the same time, but linearly it is the final narrative. I’ll go easy on my descriptions so I can get this out to you as quick as possible. Let’s see if Franz can end this madness once and for all.

Julianna stood waiting impatiently, hood and all. A familiar flash of light appeared for a split second, leaving a slightly jumpy Franz Kafka in its wake. He looked around before focusing on Julianna.

“Welcome to the Reasonless Tower, Mr. Kafka. This has been the final place six of your fellow authors were seen alive. How does it feel to stand on hallowed ground?”

Franz was in no mood for teasing. “I’m the one that’s supposed to do the questioning this time around. Not you.”

“Someone’s direct today,” Julianna remarked with a sneer. “Very well, you may begin. I’ll do my best to answer you to my fullest ability! You remember the riddle, correct?”

“I do. Are you a fictional character written about by either me or any of the other authors that took part in this game?”

Julianna tilted her head to the side in thought. “No,” she responded simply.

“Alright. Do either the dead snake or the scissors have any meaning in regards to your identity?”

“Yes.”

“Can you elaborate on that?”

Julianna was quick with her reply. “Is that your third question?”

Caught off guard, Franz was forced to sacrifice the crucial third question. “Yes.”

“The snake means nothing. I am not a devilish spirit bent on bewitching a man to fall in love with me,” she cackled.

“What is an ‘Assertive High Writ’?”

“Exactly what you think it means. It’s a command.” Sensing his anxiousness, Julianna smiled as she spoke. “Only one more question left, Mr. Kafka. Make it count.”

Franz went quiet; deep in thought. Something about that last response caused a spark in his eyes. After a minute, he smiled. “Is there an eleventh author somewhere in this Realm?”

Not exactly sure what he was driving at, Julianna’s face became stuck between bewildered amusement and vindictive fulfillment. “There is.” She clapped her hands together, throughly enjoyed with their little exchange. “That’s all you get, Mr. Kafka! You must tell me the answer to my riddle now! Who am I?”

Without betraying any possible sense of failure or cluelessness, Franz’s voice rang out clear and strong: “I do not know your name, but I do know that you are associated with the author of a certain text. ‘Assertive High Writ’ is indeed a command as you say, but its command to ‘Stop Questioning!’ makes a lot more sense if it was rewritten as… ‘Whatever is, is right!’ You’re connected to Alexander Pope, are you not?” Thinking that he solved enough of the riddle behind the riddle, Franz ended his monologue.

“I commend your intelligence, Mr. Kafka, I really do.” Julianna smiled at him, never once breaking eye contact. “Unfortunately, you didn’t fully grasp what I meant by ‘solve the riddle’ in that you did not provide me with the name you believe belongs to me. You’re right about my little anagram though, so at least you can have that as your consolidation prize!”

“Have I lost then?”

“You’ve lost. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut off our interview here, Mr. Kafka. Thanks for playing.”

>>FRANZ KAFKA
>>>STATUS: DECEASED
>>>>GAME OVER