The year is 2133, the world is governed not by traditional states but by powerful corporations that have everything under the palm of their hand. It all began with development in technologies like online (crypto) currency and artificial intelligence. As these innovations advanced financial systems, regulation of information and data, system gradually slipped out of government’s control. Influential figures from different countries setting their differences aside joined forces, forming powerful alliances that governments could not keep in check. Over time, national authorities found themselves increasingly reliant on these private institutions which made people lose their trust in them. Everything slipped from the hands of these national authorities like sand through fingers to the point that even the elections were staged.
Elections became nothing more than a show, it was the corporate giants who were pulling the strings behind everything. Now, democracy only exists in name, but the people don’t care (at least most of them). Why would they? Every imaginable pleasure is right on their fingertip’s immersive virtual worlds, ultra realistic android bots which can do anything ranging from housework to sex, even the food though artificially created is filled with all kinds of nutrients and by far tastier than any organic one. The entertainment industry is now controlled by Artificial Intelligence, may it be games or movies or virtual worlds just type your preferences and a fresh piece of content will be created, designed specifically for you. Even though the environment is much worse but due to decline in population, corporate-designed comforts keep everything in balance. Even when the human population was declining rapidly due to fertility issues, it was later fixed by introduction of artificial means.
All of this enabled the corporations to manipulate education, media even scientific research. They were nurturing humans like crops only to be raised as workers and consumers of the products to keep the economic system in check. Knowledge is restricted, creativity is dead and people are kept in dark about almost everything except for their jobs. For some people who are fully immersed in pleasures, this world is heaven but for others it was an artificially manufactured hell, a shiny cage restricting them from everything.
Out of these major corporations Quasintial was surely the biggest one. They were also conducting research on revolutionary topics like Dyson sphere, simulations and uploaded intelligence. Uploading human consciousness digitally was going to be a major step in humanity’s evolution. Although many other corporations pursued similar goals, but they consistently fell short; either the humans didn’t survive the process or system failed even after the scanning. Quasintial, however, were already far ahead of others.
They began by uploading consciousness of newborns, just 10 to 15 days old, into the system. Uploading infants’ consciousness proved easier, as there was far less data to process and after a few initial failures they were successful. However, the shocking thing was that even after the uploads, the infants remained alive and well in the real world. Which raised many complex questions about the nature of consciousness itself. To address this ambiguity, they introduced a new term, "DC" (Digital Consciousness), and proceeded to conduct further experiments on these digital counterparts.
The strangest discovery was that they could copy these digital consciousness but any attempt to alter them were failure. Hence only copy and pasting was possible. They proceeded their research by creating small environments for these consciousness to develop under different circumstances in hopes of understanding topics like identity and personality perhaps even soul. These experiments were conducted in hopes of answering questions like: Do the identity and personality depends on brain or consciousness or environment in which individuals grow? Moreover, how much of a shift can we see in same consciousness under various circumstances? They also began exploring whether instead of just cloning is it possible to upload an individual’s true consciousness into the system.
Most of the results were expected but were informative at least. The conclusion was, while brain structure and capacity do influence a person’s personality, the environment in which the individual develops is also a significant factor. Determining any inherent uniqueness in one’s consciousness proved challenging as there was no evident data to prove or disprove it.
Then after an extensive research and efforts they made a breakthrough, initially it was impossible to alter the existing consciousness. The only thing they could do was to copy the initial one and then let it develop in different environment to see variations. But now they managed to facilitate a sort of digital reproduction between two DCs.
This breakthrough marked a remarkable step forward, allowing researchers to continue without needing additional infants for experiments. They named these entities APC (Artificially Processed Consciousness). Many people believed these APC’s to be nothing but hollow souls while others believed that soul isn’t a thing, and these APCs were just humans who were born digitally. Nevertheless, everything about this research was just as frighting as it was fascinating.
With this development the corporation’s higher ups decided to merge this project with another project focused on designing hyper-realistic world simulations.
Simulations were answer to everything—whether it was predicting the weather patterns, testing astronomical or quantum theories, or solving complex mathematical issues, when provided with sufficient data, simulations could tackle almost any problem. The potential was limitless, so to improve their understanding of APCs and creating complex simulations for future purposes, Quasintial decided to go on with the project of creating a whole simulated universe. This project required lot of money manpower and resources, all of it were easily available for Quasintial.
*
Twelve years later, the simulation they had created was astonishingly realistic. They simulated the whole universe, from the Big Bang to the formation of galaxies, our solar system, Earth and the humans living in it, everything was almost same down to its last atom. Such extreme details were included so that they could reuse certain elements in future projects if the need ever arise.
Avin Levi, who had played a major role in the project and had previously served as secretary to the former project leader, stepped out of a meeting. He was a thin man in his late twenties with a tired, expressionless face like life has been sucked out of him.
The meeting was about the simulation which now they referred to as ‘SUN-SAAR’. Apparently, the project has undergone numerous psychological, scientific and other experimental studies but now they believed it’s inefficient to continue running it, and they're also concerned about the potential consequences. Creating a new digital race and managing it had been challenging, as these beings were not like AI. They were just like humans, emotional and difficult to control. They feared that if these beings somehow figured out that they were living in a simulation, the results could be unpredictable. Currently to keep everything under better supervision they had cooled down the time difference. Now, one hour in the real-world equals to eight hours in the simulated world. The current society of these APCs humans had progressed to a level comparable to the real world in 2014, making further continuation risky.
Although Avin was persistent about keeping the simulation running, eager to see the potential inventions and developments the APCs might create but the others ultimately agreed that continuing was just too dangerous. Some even suggested repurposing the APCs as manual labour replacements for humans, given their intelligence and lack of fatigue, but this idea was also dismissed. In the end, the meeting concluded with a decision to begin shutting down the simulation in three days.
While potential similar projects were brought up, but the higher-ups were reluctant to share any further details. Overall, the project was deemed a success, with the simulation itself highlighted as a major achievement. Researchers were hopeful they could build on this experience to produce even better results in the future. The APCs were also seen as a positive outcome, though the industry was uncertain about how to utilize them at this time.
Avin walked directly to GS11, a laboratory room which was filled with large screens displaying information like the world map, population count, time difference and stability statistics for the simulation, all running across holographic displays. A woman in her thirties was seated near two pods, working on a holographic computer. Noticing him, she looked up and asked how the meeting had gone. Avin explained that they had decided to shut down SUN-SAAR. “Figured”, she replied, glancing at the screen. “I knew this was going to happen. Ugghhhhh…. now, I’ve even lost the motivation to keep going—I think I’ll take a quick break.” “Sure, suit yourself”, Avin replied, and with that she left the room. She was visibly upset as many were going to be as they had worked so hard on this project.
Avin logged into the system using his ID and began reviewing the data. His gaze drifted to the two pods in the room, designed to allow entry into the simulation’s world. There were at least 216 of these pods across various rooms. Rather than cloning or uploading consciousness, they functioned like advanced virtual reality devices temporarily teleporting one in the simulation. Uploading of true consciousness wasn’t yet perfected, though they were close. The pods enabled humans to enter the world of the APCs to monitor developments, influence events and conduct social studies on topics like religion, society, and the APCs’ human-like qualities.
However, recently these pods had been used for a very different purpose: assassination. By now, a world resembling 2014 would have theories and fictional stories about simulations. The Quasintial group made every effort to suppress such ideas, using tactics like targeted assassinations or external brainwashing to keep simulation discussions unpopular and infrequent. While this had been manageable at first, the growing complexity of society made it increasingly difficult to control, contributing to Quasintial’s decision to shut down the project out of fear.
Avin was visibly saddened, he was a kind-hearted, gentle person. And one of the few who felt empathy for the APCs. He even believed they might be genuinely living beings. People like Avin were rare these days, as most were hardened and self-centred—even Avin’s own parents were no exception. It was surprising he turned out this way, given his difficult upbringing. His childhood was often disturbed by the mechanical noises of his father’s sex robots or his mother’s moaning from VR stimulations. His parents had a strained relationship, and it was hard to understand, why they were still together. He and his brother were sometimes subjected to their parents’ abuse and Avin often ended up with bruises all over his body.
Avin always looked out for his brother, they were close. They often bonded over creating stories and fantasy worlds together in VR specifically, in CREE8. Unlike others, they were passionate about crafting worlds and stories rather than consuming them. Perhaps this was where Avin’s interest in simulations began.
Though Avin wasn’t exceptionally smart, he had a knack for coding, a skill he was taught in school. At age 12, students were required to choose a career path and focus exclusively on that field for the rest of their lives. Coding simulations became Avin's path.
While reviewing his account, Avin came across his avatar, Croxeus Ezthen. The avatar he had been designing for years. He and his brother were captivated by fantasies and magic, often imagining a world where pain could vanish with a single spell. In their free time, they used CREE8 to craft spells, powers and fantasy stories. Croxeus was a character Avin designed from cherished memories, pouring his heart into each detail whenever he missed his brother. This was a character written by his brother from the time they used to play together. He spent countless hours refining Croxeus's spells and abilities, fixing an endless stream of bugs and errors along the way.
In his backstory Croxeus was a three-thousand-year-old sorcerer, known as "The Ancient Archmage." Born as the son of the God of Wisdom and an immortal demoness Queen, he possessed both divine and demonic heritage. He was not only immortal but was also supposed to be the greatest Magic caster.
Avin tried his best to replicate the character as an avatar but despite all his effort, Avin never had the chance to use Croxeus. Researchers weren’t entirely forbidden from entering the simulation for non-research purposes. Many even did this regularly. However, using something like magic was totally out of the question. Even Avin himself had entered the simulation on several occasions, but always for work-related missions and with a different avatar.
He thought to himself, the simulation is ending in three days, and I’ve never even used Croxeus or his powers. A few minutes of magic inside shouldn’t do any harm, right?
And I’ll be careful. I just want to try a few of those abilities and spells before the server shuts down. I know they will delete my character, this is the only chance I will get.
With this decision made, Avin began the initialization process and sat down in the pod. A robotic voice began to announce:
PROCESS INITIALIZED. CODE 13452.
ID 1256. AVATAR ‘CROXEUS EZTHEN’.
CITY: ‘Breloom’.
You will be teleported to the nearest location with no humans or animals present.
Entering in 10... 9..............3…2….1. . . . . . . . .
A blinding light engulfed him and then everything fell into darkness. When he next opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a forest surrounded by trees on all sides. His body felt different—strong, almost divine—like a figure from myth. His physique was sculpted, reminiscent of a Greek god, broad and powerful. His hair was white as snow, his eyes gleaming a brilliant gold, on his head rested a delicate crown, fashioned from shimmering golden leaves, subtle yet regal. And in his hand, he gripped a golden staff, its design resembling a trident, though thick and more suited for the casting of arcane magic. His attire was a masterpiece—an ornate robe of sparkling white fabric, embroidered with intricate designs of golden threads. The robe was bordered with gold, and on his shoulders, he wore gilded Armor, each plate encrusted with jewels that caught the light and shimmered with a dazzling array of colours.
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He paused for a moment, calculating. If only an hour passed in the outside world for every eight hours here, he had ample time to explore before trying his magic. He then used a spell [Clairvoyance Call] to see the nearest city and decided it would be best to get a feel for his surroundings first. Then he casted [Total Illusion]. This was an advanced spell he had designed, one capable of fooling all five senses—sight, sound, touch, taste and smell. He was surrounded by a gentle halo of white and blue light as his form morphed, his once-divine physique shrinking to a more average appearance. His clothes shifted as well into simple attire that fit seamlessly into the year 2014. The transformation was complete, leaving him looking like an ordinary man, his aura now indistinguishable from the rest of the world around him. He then used [Fly] to soar closer to the city.
He wandered through its streets, his curiosity leading him to explore every corner. He couldn’t help but marvel at how much these people had grown, their lives unfolding in ways that felt so real. He looked at them as though they were his children—because, in a way, they were. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, he made his way to a food stall. He ordered a burger, though it wasn’t perfect like the one in real world. Oddly enough, the imperfection of the meal made it enjoyable in this new body.
But as he ate, a wave of guilt washed over him. He knew that, in just a few days, all these people would cease to exist. His heart ached at the thought. Though he believed them to be just as alive as humans in the real world, he couldn’t do anything to prevent them from dying. The guilt lingered in his gaze, his sympathy for them evident in the sorrowful expression that flickered across his face.
He then used [instant teleportation] to teleport in a deep forest to try his spells and magic. After an hour of testing and trying, he used [Fly] to fly across the planet. He gazed down at the cities below, illuminated by the light in the night. Soon, he descended and landed on the outskirts of one city (little did he knew it was actually a private manor garden).
Feeling satisfied he decided it was time to log out. Raising a finger to his temple, he activated the interface. A translucent panel materialized in front of him, and he selected the "Log Out" option. But instead of logging out, a message flashed across the screen: Error 4587. Frowning, he tried again—same error.
What the hell? he thought, confused. Why isn’t it working? What even is Error 4587?
Wondering if his illusion spell might be interfering, he dispelled it and attempted to log out again. But the error persisted. Letting out a deep sigh, he summoned a grand, throne-like chair as he sat on it, he gazed thoughtfully at the night sky. This throne was conjured through a spell, [King’s Authority]—an enchantment meant to lower the confidence of foes and subtly charm those around him. Now, though, he simply used it as a seat to rest.
Staring at the stars, he mulled over the situation. What could be causing this error? I don’t even remember this code. Could my magic be affecting it? No, that seems unlikely… Maybe someone outside will notice and fix it. But what if… A cold thought crossed his mind. What if something happened to my real body? No, that can’t be…
He knew once inside the simulation there was no way to contact the real world except for logging out. Lost in thought, he was suddenly pulled back to reality by a figure approaching him. A strikingly handsome man had leapt into view, his expression one of awe and intrigue. Panic surged through him. Oh no. How much did he see? Is he going to think I’m some eccentric cosplayer? Do people even cosplay in this world?
As he was thinking the man asked him a question which made him even more wary “Are you—you, Are you God?”
Aanndd, I fucked up. Can I just say I am cosplaying no—no he asked me am I -God that means he had seen something I will just try to explain it as an illusion. Ahhaa but it depends on how much he has seen.
"And what makes you say that young man?" Avin asked, maintaining composure.
His voice was both soothing and commanding. It felt like a melody that resonated deeply, not just in the ears but in the soul as well.
The man’s eyes sparkled with reverence. "You used magic to transform yourself, conjured that throne from thin air, and you carry an aura of wisdom and power… Everything about you radiates divinity. There’s no mistake—you are a god."
He saw everything. How am I supposed to get out of this mess? He considered his options. He could use a mind-control spell, but he’d never practiced those; they were experimental spells he’d created on a whim. And if they interacted poorly with the system… well, that was the last thing he needed. No, this had to be handled carefully. He’d have to resolve it from the outside.
For now, he decided to keep track of the man. Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated, and the man’s Subject ID appeared in his vision. Avin saved it to access later, hoping it might come in handy when he finally escaped this predicament.
Noticing Avin’s focused gaze, the man instantly grew alarmed. His eyes widened as he realized what Avin might be trying to do. Dropping to his knees, he pleaded, "Please, I beg you, don’t make me forget this encounter! I am honoured to see you. I don’t want to lose this memory. Let me keep it, please."
Avin felt a pang of sympathy for the poor man, knowing that protocol would ultimately require him to erase this memory. But for now, he decided to offer him some reassurance. “I am not a god,” he said gently. “Just one of the creators of this universe. Calling me a god would be foolish.”
The man’s curiosity flared. "You mean… there are others like you?"
Avin nodded. “Yes, there are.”
Ard fell into confusion, puzzled he asked, "If… if it’s not too much, may I ask how many such beings there are?"
Avin hesitated. I can’t just reveal there’s an entire research department behind this. He seems clever—he might piece together too much. After a moment’s thought, he replied with a careful answer. “There are 49 of us, including me.” (Referencing to the backstory of Croxeus’ world where there were 48 Gods).
The man took this in, awe etched across his face. “And… are there any beings above you?”
Of course, there are higher-ups… managers and their managers. But I can’t exactly say that here, Avin thought, realizing he was treading a thin line. The man clearly believed he was divine, and pushing back might only confuse him more. After a moment’s pause, Avin settled on a response. “No, I don’t believe there is anyone above us.”
The man’s eyes shone with renewed reverence. “Then… you truly are a god?”
Avin shook his head gently. “No, I haven’t done anything to deserve that title. I’m merely a creator.” Avoiding further questions, he activated the interface again, keeping it open as he waited, hoping someone outside would notice the glitch and pull him out soon. All he wanted now was to escape this situation before it got even more complicated.
The man watched him in awe, his heart racing, thoughts swirling. To think… a god, standing before me, yet refusing to accept the title. Is this humility the true nature of the divine? His mind raced with questions, but in this moment, he found himself overwhelmed, speechless. His heart thundered in his chest as if time itself had stopped, and he felt that pure, inexplicable wonder that he had, by sheer luck, encountered a being he could only describe as godly.
As Ard’s thoughts turned reverent, he couldn’t help but stare at Avin in awe. Noticing this, Avin shifted uncomfortably and decided to fill the silence. “You see those stars over there?” he said, gesturing to the night sky. “They’re part of the galaxy’s central arms. And that one,” he pointed, “is a main-sequence star…” He continued to explain, slipping into a creator’s pride as he shared details of his work.
But in the midst of his monologue, he froze. The Log Out button on his interface had vanished. Panic shot through him, silencing his words. He abruptly rose from his throne, which disappeared instantly, and only managed to stammer, “No… This can’t be happening.”
He didn’t recall every error code, but he knew what this meant: the absence of the Log Out button could only mean one thing—something had happened to his real body. In the simulation pod, his body was in an incredibly sensitive state. If his physical nerves were even lightly stimulated, the system would automatically log him out within five seconds to protect him. But if logout failed… then his life was in immediate danger.
The weight of this realization sank in. He had just about 40 seconds (converted to 5 seconds outside) to manually log out—or risk never returning. He stood there, stunned, his mind racing in silent desperation as precious seconds ticked away.
Ard watched in silence, unsure of what was unfolding but sensing its gravity. He decided it was best to remain quiet, observing in respectful, anxious silence as Avin wrestled with a crisis beyond his comprehension.
More than two minutes had passed. Avin felt an unsettling mix of surprise, fear and confusion. How am I still here? If I’m dead, then… how am I conscious? What exactly happened? His mind raced, but there were no answers—the Log Out button was still gone, and with it, any certainty of escape. Am I… trapped here?
Noticing Avin’s tense expression, Ard finally mustered the courage to ask, “Mr. God, what… what happened?”
Avin hesitated, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, he replied with a half-truth, a lie that felt strangely close to the reality he feared. “I—I think my real body was destroyed… in the Astral plane.”
The words left Ard stunned. His real body… destroyed? The statement was almost too much to comprehend. He stood there, speechless, trying to process what he’d just heard. He glanced at Avin’s face and saw the gravity of the situation reflected in his solemn expression. Realizing this was not the time for more questions, Ard’s face grew tense, his worry mirroring the unease that now filled the silent space between them.
Avin noticed Ard’s shocked expression and felt a sense of guilt. I frightened him… Here I am, caught up in my own fears, while everyone in this world—including him—are going to die soon, and I’m only worried about myself. A bitter thought surfaced: Maybe all of this is the karma I deserve.
Lowering his head, Avin spoke softly, “I’m sorry for startling you.”
Ard’s eyes widened, disbelief filling his face. The supreme creator—a being he viewed as a god—was bowing before him? Is this what a true god is like? He always imagined the god would be a humble being but this, this is something humbler, more profound.
Without hesitation, Ard dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground in reverence. “I’m the one who should apologize. Forgive me for my ignorance… I don’t even know how to conduct myself in your presence. A supreme being like you shouldn’t have to be troubled by trivialities.”
To him, this was a god beyond any human imaginings, so unlike the embellished deities he had seen in stories and religions. In this moment, he understood that no myth could ever capture the humility and strength of the being before him.
As Ard struggled with his thoughts, Avin’s voice broke through. “This apology isn’t only for startling you,” he said quietly, “but also for the end of your universe. I… I couldn’t stop it.”
Ard’s head shot up, his face suddenly became opposite of what it was before now filled with anger and range. “W—what? The end of our universe?”
“Yes,” Avin replied, his voice heavy. “The other creators have decided to terminate this world. I tried to convince them otherwise, but… I... failed. Me and three others were responsible for bringing your universe into existence. Now, they’ve all chosen to end it.”
Ard’s head fell back down, his expression contorted in anger and hurt. His whole body trembled, like a volcano on the edge of eruption. Did I hear him correctly? Our universe… is going to end?
He struggled to contain his fury, reminding himself of who knelt before him. This is a god, and he’s bowing before me. He forced himself to think rationally, his emotions colliding with reverence and rage. I’m nothing compared to him, just a small pest, yet he’s apologizing. And… he tried to save us. He didn’t want this.
But why did he fail? And then, a realization struck. Wait—he mentioned his real body was destroyed. He must’ve come here to try and save us, only for those other creators to sabotage him by taking out his real body. Maybe this whole “end of the universe” decision was a trap all along set just to lure him here and eliminate him.
Ard’s anger simmered, replaced by a mixture of respect and sorrow. This god before me tried to defy his own kind, to protect us… and he paid the ultimate price too.
The pieces started to fall into place for Ard. Calming himself, he looked toward the god-like figure bowing before him. Avin, meanwhile, was flooded with second thoughts. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so blunt. Even if he thinks I’m a God, I have no idea how he’ll react. Will he be angry? Heartbroken?
But Ard’s voice was unexpectedly steady as he replied, “There’s nothing for you to apologize for, my lord. You tried your best. To think… that your own people would betray you like this, yet you still feel the need to apologize on their behalf.”
Betrayal? Avin’s brow furrowed in confusion. What does he mean, ‘my own people’?
Seeing Avin’s troubled expression, Ard continued, “It may not be my place to say, but please don’t carry guilt over our universe being sacrificed to lure you out. You didn’t choose this.”
Ah… now I see, Avin thought, piecing it together. He those supposed other 48 beings orchestrated this just to trap me here and destroy my real body. It hadn’t been his intent to give that impression, but he realized the misunderstanding might actually work in his favour. Maybe it’s better this way. The less he knows, the safer both worlds will be. I can’t risk more damage just because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
Ard hesitated, then added, “If… I may ask, what should I call you, sir? I hardly know how to address a god.”
“Croxeus Ezthen” Avin replied, deciding to keep his chosen name same as the avatar he was in.
“Is that… your name?” Ard asked, a bit hesitant.
“Yes.”
“But how can I call you just by name? Surely, I should use some honorific.”
“Just Croxeus is fine.”
“Alright… Lord Croxeus.” Ard nodded, feeling that it was the only respectful choice. “I couldn’t think of anything more fitting.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Ard continued, “May I ask… just one more thing, my Lord?”
“Yes, you may.”
“Why were we created? Forgive my curiosity, but the idea that we can be created and destroyed so easily… it makes me wonder—what is even our purpose?”
Avin felt guilty at the earnestness of Ard’s question. He has every right to ask, he thought, a hint of regret creeping into his tone. “You were created because we wanted to understand ourselves better. You are, in a sense, extensions of us and by learning about you, we learn about ourselves.”
Ard’s eyes widened in disbelief. I was right, he thought, feeling an overwhelming rush of validation. The reason I always suspected… it’s exactly as he described. I can’t believe it. It felt surreal, like a confirmation of his deepest beliefs.
Meanwhile, Avin who was uneasy at having revealed so much, resolved to prevent any further complications. The best thing I can do now is to keep him from spreading word of our encounter. Even if I’m trapped here, I can’t let the APCs destabilize the server.
“Son, what is your name?”
Son? Ard’s heart skipped a beat, his awe deepening. Did he… did he just call me ‘son’? He could barely believe it. “My name is Ard Barfi, my lord.”
Avin nodded thoughtfully. “So, Ard, may I ask you to keep everything that happened here a secret?”
Ard’s face lit up with devotion. “I would do anything for you, my Lord.” He hesitated, then added, “Yes, my lord, but will you be able to go back to astral plane?”
“No, I don’t think so”, I think I won’t be able to go back to real world now, Avin sighed.
“So can I make a request of you?”
“Yes, off course” Avin replied.
“Could I have the honour of hosting you at my home while you’re in this universe?”
It’s not such a bad idea, Avin thought, considering the benefits. This way, I can also keep an eye on him to ensure he doesn’t spread word of our encounter.
“That is an excellent idea, Ard,” Avin replied, nodding. Ard’s eyes glowed with pride and reverence, his faith in this ‘God’ reaffirmed. While Avin felt a quiet relief, hoping this arrangement might keep everything under control.