"Through the Cracks" Page #2

• Science fiction
• Short story
• Fiction

								


At 11:59 p.m., Max arrived, his heart racing. A shadowy figure emerged, moving slowly, almost reluctantly.

“Are you sure you want to know?” the figure asked, their voice strangely distorted, like listening through water.

Max nodded. “I need to know. If this is a simulation, then why? Who are we?”

The figure’s face seemed to blur, and their voice grew softer, almost compassionate. “If you go deeper, the simulation will… adjust. You’ll never see things the same way again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Once you’re aware, there’s no going back to before. Comfort… reality… all of it is conditional. This life you know—it’s built on belief. Without it, everything changes.”

Max swallowed hard, watching the faint flicker of light from the holographic panel in Nexus-003’s hand. They gestured for him to touch the panel, and he did.

A list of directories appeared: “Simulation Origins,” “User Directory,” and “Exit Program.” With his heart in his throat, he selected “Simulation Origins.”


Part 7: Facing the Truth

Lines of text scrolled down the screen, detailing a history Max could barely comprehend. The simulation was created centuries ago, a refuge for humans who escaped an apocalyptic collapse on Earth. They’d retreated into an underground bunker, recreating their lost world as a virtual environment to survive the isolation.

Max felt nausea rise in his throat. Everything he’d ever known was an illusion designed to protect the survivors from a wasteland.

Nexus-003 watched him, eyes shadowed. “I was once like you. I had a life outside of this—a family, friends. They’re shadows now. Only fragments of memory.”

“So why stay?” Max asked, his voice trembling. “Why stay when you know?”

The figure seemed to hesitate. “Leaving means losing everything familiar. Our lives are more than where we are. They’re defined by what we know, who we care about.”

A chill crept up Max’s spine as he processed their words. “But… this isn’t real.”

“Real is subjective, Max. Experiences, feelings, relationships—they’re real if they’re real to you.”


Part 8: Existential Crisis

In the days that followed, Max felt torn apart by what he’d learned. He spent hours staring into mirrors, his own face unfamiliar, as if it were another mask in the simulation. He’d have dreams of the green-umbrella woman, her eyes hollow, saying his name over and over. He couldn’t shake the feeling of everything slipping away.

On his morning walks, people moved past him as though he were invisible, and time felt fragmented. He began experiencing strange lapses, minutes disappearing in what felt like seconds. It was as though reality were fracturing, breaking apart as his belief in it crumbled.

The hallucinations became worse. He saw flashes of other people, ghostly faces that would flicker in and out, eyes empty, like forgotten users locked within the simulation. He would hear whispers, a faint echo of his name in the wind, voices telling him, “This is your world. You made it your own.”

 
Part 9: Exit Program

One night, exhausted and despairing, he brought up the control panel. His fingers hovered over the options, his pulse racing. The screen prompted him: “Exit Program? This action cannot be undone.”

He hesitated. If he escaped the illusion, everything he knew—Darren, Sarah, his memories of his family, the little comforts he’d always held dear—would disappear.

The words of Nexus-003 echoed in his mind. "Our lives are more than where we are. They’re defined by what we know."

He felt a strange, soothing sense of peace settle over him. Perhaps he didn’t need the “truth” to find meaning. Perhaps everything that mattered was here, within this construct, because he had made it so.


Part 10: Choosing the Illusion

As the screen’s prompt faded, Max stood in a strange void of darkness, his mind a tangle of memories, fears, and questions. Here, he was faced with the edge of his own existence, his life flashing before him in fragments—the comforting laugh of Darren, Sarah’s shy smiles, the routine of his morning walk, even the strange woman with her green umbrella.

Perhaps this world was an illusion, but it was his illusion. And there was peace in that.

Finally, he reached out and selected Return to Program. The control panel faded, the void gave way, and the world around him reassembled itself, familiar and complete.
________________________________________

Part 11: The Loop Begins Again

The world flickered back to life, pixel by pixel. Morning light broke through his window, casting a familiar glow across the room. Max blinked, feeling a sense of déjà vu, as though he’d experienced this moment countless times before.

As he poured his morning coffee, the scent, the warmth, and the quiet calm soothed him, grounding him. Walking to work, he passed the coffee shop on Thornfield Road. A woman with a green umbrella stepped out, glancing at him with a strange, lingering look.

He paused, a faint memory tugging at his mind. But it was hazy, just out of reach, like a dream half-remembered.

“Do I know you?” he whispered to the air, but she was already gone.

His day unfolded in familiar patterns, conversations with colleagues, the quiet of his apartment in the evening. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a screen flicker before his eyes, a pulse of code with a label: Awareness Level: 4.

Then, it was gone.

In the silence of his bedroom that night, Max lay staring into the darkness, feeling a quiet, settling peace. Maybe the truth wasn’t something he needed. Perhaps he could live fully in this moment, whatever it was, and make it his own.

As he drifted into sleep, he felt the comforting presence of a voice—a voice that felt familiar, soothing. “This is your world, Max. Live in it. Feel it. Make it yours.”

And as sleep took him, Max let his lingering doubts fade, resting in the certainty of his choice.
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