Chapter 1: The Unforgettable Ad

Chapter 1: The Unforgettable Ad

The air in Mountain Rim, Arizona, didn’t just feel hot; it felt heavy, like a wool blanket soaked in lukewarm water. Percy Miller felt it pressing down on him as he wiped a sticky ring of dried soda from a booth table at the "Diner on the Edge." The name was the only interesting thing about the place. Everything else, from the cracked red vinyl of the seats to the buzzing fluorescent lights that made the ketchup look vaguely brown, was a testament to stagnation.

At seventeen, Percy felt like he was drowning in that stagnation. His life was a loop: school, this greasy spoon, and the suffocating silence of his small house. He dreamed of coastal cities, of air that smelled of salt instead of dust, of a life that moved faster than the sun crawling across the bleached-out sky. Mountain Rim wasn't a place you lived in; it was a place you waited to escape.

"Another scorcher," grunted Mr. Henderson from his usual stool at the counter, stating the obvious for the fourth time that hour.

Percy just nodded, collecting the man’s empty plate. The desire to scream, to just run out the door and keep running until the pavement turned to sand and the sand met an ocean, was a low, constant hum beneath his ribs. It was a frequency only he seemed to hear. Everyone else in this town seemed content, lulled into a coma by the relentless heat and the crushing predictability of it all.

He was in the back, loading the industrial dishwasher, when the commercial came on the small television perched on a greasy shelf. The usual barrage of local car dealerships and furniture liquidations was suddenly cut short.

The screen went black.

For a full three seconds, there was only silence. Not the absence of sound, but a deep, pressurized quiet that made the diner's usual clatter seem distant. Then, stark white letters, in a brutally simple, sans-serif font, appeared.

ARE YOU TIRED?

The letters hung there. No music, no jingle. Just the hum of the refrigerator.

DO YOU WISH TO REST?

Another beat of silence. Percy found himself holding his breath, a dirty plate suspended in his hand.

WE OFFER AN EXPERIENCE.

The text was replaced by a slow, silent countdown. 5… 4… 3…

A GOOD FILM

The name of the movie appeared, plain and unadorned.

SHOWING EXCLUSIVELY AT THE MOUNTAIN RIM THEATER.

Then came the final, chilling promise. A synthesized, genderless voice—flat, calm, and utterly devoid of emotion—spoke the words as they appeared on the screen.

"You will forget everything you see. That is the point."

The screen went black again, and a moment later, the blaring, obnoxious jingle for "Route 66 Auto Sales" erupted, shattering the strange spell.

In the main dining area, a few patrons chuckled. "Well, that's one way to sell a movie," someone quipped. Mr. Henderson laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "A movie so bad they gotta warn you you'll forget it! Genius!"

But Percy didn’t feel amusement. A cold dread, sharp and unwelcome in the oppressive heat, prickled his skin. It wasn't a gimmick. It felt like a threat. The flat, digital voice echoed in his skull, clinical and cold. That is the point.

Later that evening, after his shift, he met his friends Liam and Chloe at the desolate strip mall on the edge of town. The neon sign of the closed laundromat buzzed erratically, casting their faces in a sickly pink glow.

"Did you guys see that ad?" Percy asked, skipping any greeting. "For the movie? 'A Good Film'?"

Liam, ever the enthusiast for anything remotely weird, grinned. "Dude, yes! Creepiest thing I've ever seen. We have to go."

"It's just some edgy marketing," Chloe said, scrolling through her phone, the pale light illuminating her unimpressed expression. "Probably some low-budget art film trying to go viral."

"It didn't feel like marketing," Percy insisted, his voice tight. "It felt... wrong. Why would anyone want to pay for a memory wipe? It's like a voluntary lobotomy."

Liam laughed and slugged him on the shoulder. "You're overthinking it, man. It's a dare. Can you watch a movie so forgettable it literally vanishes from your brain? It’s brilliant! We're going tonight. 9 PM show."

"No," Percy said, the word coming out faster and harsher than he intended. "I'm not going."

Chloe finally looked up from her phone, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Perce, you okay? It's a movie. A stupid movie in our stupid town. It's something to do."

"There's something wrong with it," he said, unable to articulate the cold knot in his stomach. The ad hadn't been selling entertainment; it felt like it was offering a service. A deeply unnatural one.

They argued for another ten minutes, but Liam and Chloe's amusement was a wall he couldn't break through. To them, his dread was just another part of his cynical, anti-Mountain Rim personality. They saw his fear as a refusal to have fun, not as a genuine warning. Defeated, he watched them walk off toward the faint, distant glow of the Mountain Rim Theater, its single spire like a crumbling finger pointing at the darkening sky.

Percy went home and tried to lose himself in a book, but the sterile white letters of the ad kept superimposing themselves over the page. You will forget everything you see.

He fell into a restless sleep and woke up just after eleven to the buzz of his phone. It was Liam.

Dude. You HAVE to see it.

A second text, from Chloe, came a minute later.

He’s right. It was amazing.

Percy’s heart hammered against his ribs. He called Liam. It went straight to voicemail. He tried Chloe. Same result. A half-hour later, there was a knock on his door. It was both of them, standing on his porch under the pale yellow light, and the sight of them made the cold knot in his stomach clench into a fist of ice.

They were smiling. Not their usual smiles—Liam’s lopsided, goofy grin or Chloe’s wry, sarcastic smirk. These were identical smiles: wide, placid, and utterly serene. Their eyes, usually alive with teenage energy and frustration, were calm and empty, like twin pools of still water.

"Hey," Percy said, his voice barely a whisper. "So... what was it about?"

Liam’s peaceful smile didn't waver. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember at all?"

"Nope," Chloe said, her voice smooth and melodic, stripped of its usual sarcastic edge. "But I feel... great. So light. All that stress about Mrs. Davison's final? It's just... gone."

"That's the point, I guess," Liam added, his gaze distant. "You just... let go."

Percy stared at them, his mind racing. This wasn't the post-movie buzz of friends joking about a bad film. This was a fundamental alteration. The anxious energy that always crackled around Liam was gone. The sharp intelligence in Chloe's eyes had been replaced by a placid contentment.

"Remember that joke we have about Mr. Henderson and his toupee looking like a dead squirrel?" Percy tested, a desperate shot in the dark.

They both stared at him, their serene smiles faltering for a fraction of a second, replaced by blank confusion.

"Who's Mr. Henderson?" Liam asked.

A wave of nausea washed over Percy. They weren't just forgetting the movie. The void was bleeding into the rest of their memories.

"You guys," Percy started, his voice trembling. "This isn't right. You have to see that this isn't—"

"You just need to see it for yourself, Percy," Chloe interrupted gently, her hand landing on his arm. Her touch was cool and oddly formal. "All that worrying you do. All that anger about this town. It'll just float away."

"You'll feel so much better," Liam echoed, his empty eyes boring into Percy’s. "You have to go. You'll thank us."

It wasn't a recommendation. It felt like a diagnosis. A prescription. They stood there on his porch, two perfect strangers wearing the faces of his best friends, their blissful emptiness a terrifying abyss he was being asked to leap into.

As they walked away, their steps perfectly in sync, Percy looked past them, toward the single, faded light of the Mountain Rim Theater. It was no longer just a dilapidated building. It was a predator, and it had already swallowed his friends whole. And now, it was waiting for him.