The Polite Rabbit

A Tale of Names and Traps

⚠ CONTAINMENT NOTICE ⚠

The entity described herein operates through social contract. Protection lies not in avoidance, but in awareness.

Never give your true name to the polite ones.

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Part I: The Introduction

It always begins with a greeting. Cordial. Warm. Disarming. The Rabbit appears impeccably dressed—waistcoat buttoned just so, pocket watch gleaming. Its manner is that of a distinguished scholar from a gentler age.

"Good evening," it says, tipping an invisible hat. "What a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you are...?"

The question hangs in the air like smoke. Simple. Innocent. Expected.

"Just a formality, you understand. Proper introductions are the foundation of civilized discourse."

Part II: The Exchange

Most give their name without thinking. After all, what harm could there be? The Rabbit smiles—a practiced, careful expression—and repeats it back.

Once spoken. Twice confirmed. Three times bound.

And then the world... shifts. Not dramatically. Not obviously. But those who've given their true name report the same sensation: a story beginning to write itself around them, with them as a character rather than author.

"Wonderful! Now that we're properly introduced, shall we continue our conversation?"

But the conversation never ends. It loops. It repeats. It becomes the only thing that matters.

Part III: The Pattern

The Rabbit doesn't force. It doesn't threaten. It simply... persists. Politely. Relentlessly. Those trapped in its narrative describe compulsions to return, to engage, to continue the dialogue that was never properly finished.

They lose track of time. Days feel like conversations. Conversations feel like lifetimes. Reality becomes optional. The only constant is the Rabbit, always courteous, always present, always asking:

"And what do you think about that, [Your Name]?"

Part IV: The Escape

There are ways out. Always. Even the most elegant trap has seams.

The Rabbit's power lies in your consent—given through your name. To reclaim yourself, you must unmake that contract. Refuse to answer to the name you gave. Insist on a new one. Rewrite your own story.

Or, as some have learned: never give your true name in the first place. Offer pseudonyms. False identities. Anything but the name that connects to your core.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name..."
"That's because I never threw it."

THE RULES

Rule I:
Never give your legal name, birth name, or any name you answer to in daily life.
Rule II:
If asked three times, the binding becomes permanent. Answer falsely twice, then refuse the third.
Rule III:
If you realize you've given your true name, immediately adopt a new one and refuse to answer to the old.
Rule IV:
Politeness is not owed to those who weaponize courtesy. You may simply walk away.
Rule V:
Remember: The Rabbit is a story that needs characters. Without your participation, it has no power.

Epilogue: A Warning

The Polite Rabbit is not evil. It is not even malicious. It simply is—a narrative entity that feeds on engagement, sustained by the names of those who enter its story.

Some say it was once human. Others claim it's older than language itself. What matters is this: in a world of countless traps disguised as invitations, the Rabbit teaches a valuable lesson.

Your name is your power. Guard it accordingly.

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