"Through the Cracks"

• Science fiction
• Short story
• Fiction

								
Part 1: The Glitch

Max always sensed something wasn’t quite right about the world, though he could never put his finger on it. It was in the way some people seemed just a bit too… rehearsed. Or how the skyline in his neighbourhood never changed, no matter how many years passed. As a software developer, he brushed off these ideas as quirks of his imagination.

Until last Thursday.

On his morning walk, he passed his usual coffee shop on Thornfield Road. It was raining lightly, and he noticed a woman stepping out, holding an umbrella the brightest shade of green he’d ever seen. The colour was almost unnaturally vivid, practically glowing against the dull, grey day. The woman looked at him directly and smiled, her gaze lingering with an unsettling intensity, as though she knew him. Her eyes were piercing, sharp, as if they could see right through him.

Before he could look back properly, she vanished—umbrella and all—right before his eyes. One second she was there; the next, she wasn’t.

Max stopped in his tracks, heart hammering. He looked around, expecting others to be equally shocked, but everyone carried on as if nothing strange had happened. A shiver crept up his spine as he replayed the moment. Had he just seen… a glitch?

He shook his head. “Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, quickening his pace. Glitches happened in software, not in real life.

But the unease stayed with him, gnawing at the edges of his mind.


Part 2: Signs of Simulation

Max couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. Over the next few weeks, he noticed details that only added to his suspicion. People on his commute all seemed to stare straight past him, almost like ghosts—like he wasn’t even there. Even Darren, his best mate since university, started glitching. During a video call, Darren’s face pixelated and froze mid-laugh, his eyes wide and empty, for just a second too long.

Late at night, Max found himself consumed with research. Simulation Hypothesis, controlled reality theory, existential debates about life and meaning—all of it only fuelled his suspicions. He started keeping lists of his “observations” and screenshots of articles: “Signs You’re in a Simulation,” “Alternate Realities: How to Tell If You’re Awake,” and “Simulated World or Real World?”

“If we’re in a simulation, we’re just codes on some super-advanced server,” he muttered one night, scanning articles as his eyes burned.

Eventually, he found a post on an obscure conspiracy forum. It was blunt: “Once you suspect, the simulation will respond.” The post offered a list of signs that would tell you the truth, absurd things he couldn’t believe—glitches in time, strange characters appearing, odd behaviour from familiar faces. He mentally ticked off item after item, a prickling chill settling over him as he realised how many matched his own experiences.

 
Part 3: Testing the Boundaries

One morning, determined to test reality, Max chose a route he’d never taken before, darting down unfamiliar streets, cutting through alleys, trying to catch the world off guard. He took random turns, hoping to disorient any “patterns” in his reality.

As he neared the end of a narrow lane, he saw her again—the woman with the green umbrella.

The sight of her made his heart leap. She moved with unnatural grace, her green umbrella a shock of colour against the grey. He approached her, his breath quickening, and called out, “Excuse me! Do you remember me?”

She continued without a glance. Max felt a surge of desperation and reached out, touching her shoulder. The moment his hand made contact, she froze, as if her internal mechanism had shut down. When she turned, her face was blank, devoid of expression.

“Please do not follow me, Max,” she said in a low, robotic tone, her eyes staring straight through him.

Max’s mouth went dry. He hadn’t told her his name.

“Who… who are you?” he whispered, feeling his pulse throb in his throat.

Without a word, she turned and disappeared into the crowd. People moved around her as though she hadn’t even existed. Max looked around, expecting alarmed faces, but no one else had noticed her strange behaviour.

For the first time, he began to truly believe he was living in a simulation.


Part 4: The Control Panel

Max became obsessed. His job and social life faded as he devoted himself to uncovering the truth. He watched people, observing their movements, recording what he believed were “errors” in reality. Days turned into weeks as he spiralled deeper into his fixation, feeling as if he were losing his grip on reality.

Then, one night, he stumbled across a link claiming to reveal a “backdoor” into the simulation. The page was old and low-resolution, with a distorted narrator instructing viewers to dim their lights, look into a mirror, and recite a specific sequence of numbers. He felt foolish but followed the instructions, chanting the numbers as he stared into his own reflection.

His reflection blinked, but when he blinked again, it didn’t follow. It stared back at him with a vacant, unseeing expression.

Max stumbled backward, feeling cold sweat on his skin. The room shimmered, like melting glass. A faint hum filled the air, and then a holographic control panel appeared, floating in front of him, displaying a cascade of code and options. It was real.

He scanned the panel with trembling fingers, finding options like “System Settings,” “Environmental Variables,” and “User Controls.” His heart raced as he selected “User Controls.” A new screen appeared with terms he barely understood: “Reset Memory,” “Awareness Level,” and “Exit Program.”

Taking a deep breath, he increased the “Awareness Level” from 4 to 5. Instantly, his senses heightened, the hum of electricity sharper, the scent of his own sweat and cologne almost overwhelming. The texture of his surroundings felt unnervingly detailed.


Part 5: Cracks in the Fabric

In the days that followed, reality itself felt as though it were crumbling around him. People around him looked strangely lifeless, almost robotic. His neighbour Sarah, usually chatty, stared at him with a cold, unblinking gaze one morning and said, “Please maintain behaviour, Max. The simulation does not like deviations.”

He staggered back. “What… what are you talking about?”

She repeated, “Please maintain behaviour,” before walking away, leaving him rooted in fear and shock. As the days wore on, he encountered more glitches—familiar places that now felt altered, people speaking like pre-recorded messages, strange lapses in time.
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Part 6: Meeting the “Others”

Feeling trapped, Max left cryptic messages on conspiracy forums, hoping to find others like him. A few days later, he received a reply from “Nexus-003.” The message invited him to a secluded park at midnight, saying only, “You want answers? I can show you.”

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