"Why did it end?" asked Sophie, standing over her father and watching the wall. She was in the room with the seven people she liked the best in the world. There was Milly the journalist, Doctor Susie, Georges the programmer, Marilyn, Mall-ik, Liam and her father. Things couldn't get much better from her perspective. The group was reviewing the other sixty-four simulations as Laurent played. In an hour, the field would be down to thirty-two. The command room of the Electoral Center on Mars was relatively silent.

Earlier, the computer reminded Sophie the room equipped with the thirty-two pods would be buzzing with activity as the last thirty made their way from the hotel to the Center in groups of eight. The 16th of final would begin the last portion of the game. Four catapult launches were scheduled over the next few days. As could be expected, Marilyn had redrawn her Center using her nano-technology into a luxury hotel with all of the accompanying amenities one could expect. This time she did so while everyone slept.

There was now a gym, several meeting rooms, discussion rooms, media rooms, and even massage chairs. Sophie refused to let a robotic arm touch her body. Electoral was clear: aside from the contestants, no other staff would be allowed inside the Center, but the computer was infamously mercurial and ready to derogate from these rules if it served her purposes. Georges was already grumbling at the thought of hosting thirty-two strangers.

The girl was standing next to her father's cradle in the Rho-chamber room, “put them back up.” She snapped. From sand, the computer filled the stage with the chambers. They were perched in front of the stage between the rows of empty tubes. Milly's cameras were buzzing (as usual) around the girl and capturing valuable footage sent live to earth. Milly was unclear if Sophie's hypnotic screen presence was due to her natural charms or her Rho waves. Irrespective, from the producer's feedback, ratings exploded each time the camera was on her. "Daddy was doing great," began Sophie, "it was just getting fun to watch. I want to see what happens next."

Marilyn's face lit up a screen. She was still wearing the bounty hunter outfit. "Sophie, if it's okay, I wanted a couple of minutes to speak with you. I need to warn you before you watch the rest. I am only a machine; I have my limitations. In this rare case, my recreations can only go so far. To tell you the truth, I have no clue how the Metil population will react to your father's proposal. I just played along and assumed you would be able to switch the polarity of those pairs of rocks. At some point, my recreations become more fiction than reality. That's a function of intuition more than mathematics or logic, and it's something we machines don't naturally excel at. I don't want you to think what happens on the screen will be Holy Writ as to what happens when you enter the Purple. Round 27 is intended as a guide, an educated guess. It's no guarantee of what will happen."

"Liam says the simulation looked very realistic."

"Thank him for me.""I understand. It's kind of you to try and help me. It is much more than I could ask. Thanks for the heads up. Daddy is doing great, right?" asked Sophie with a hand on her father's head.

"You mean in the game, or in life generally?"

"Both."

"In the game, his kindness to the local population will score well. But your father and Emilio are so far ahead in the rankings that short of disqualification, they will be the final two contestants on November 21, 2072. Everyone knows it, and frankly, everyone is more than happy with the outcome. Even the few remaining players."

Sophie kissed her father's body. She was proud of him.

"As for the other part of your question," said the computer as the commercials played, "he still has moments of deep depression. But remember his unique circumstances. As you heard when Georges spoke of the creation of an intelligence in the digital world, his transition, for lack of a better word, is laced through and through with difficulties. The only thing keeping him alive is you."

"You're talking about the story of your birth," said Sophie. How did she know the use of the word birth when referring to the computer meant a world to the digital creature? At a time when most humans back on Earth debated her right to ownership of a patent, Sophie just reminded everyone Marilyn was alive. "I think Georges likes Milly," she offered, changing the subject. The reaction of everyone in the room was priceless.

"You have truly no filters, beautiful one. Most humans deny their emotional connections until they have become comfortable with them. Their friends must also pretend to ignore these obvious emotions." Milly and Georges were listening to the conversation in mixed disbelief, mortification, and embarrassment. Marilyn continued, "The connection is very strong, but for both, personal reasons work at cross purposes from any emotional connection. Georges is a virgin while Milly has strong self-image issues based on..."

"That's so cute!" said the Doctor, trying desperately to change the conversation.

In Milly's ear, she heard her producer say one word: "Genius."

"The arrival of Mall-ik has greatly improved your father's psyche," continued Marilyn. Milly and Georges avoided each other's gaze. "Getting the boy in his head was a nice touch by-the-way." There was a sensitive side to Marilyn. "Laurent is, if you can believe it, the closest thing I hold to my kind. We both live here, in this electrical world dependent on energy like you need air."

"What are the other sixty-two simulations like?" asked the CNN journalist.

"Most people brought along Liam. He proved very helpful to them. I assumed Sophie will take the next day or so to analyze these simulations with the help of the Venerable One." Marilyn still found use of the name Liam an oddity. The old creature caused her an undue level of discomfort. "Laurent lives Hawkins' relative time to perfection."

"Ask about relative time," whispered the CNN producer in Milly's earpiece. Milly asked out loud. The scientific question relaxed everyone in the room. This was safe territory.

The computer obliged. "Relative time is Stephen Hawkins’s end of long life legacy. He was a physicist trapped, like Laurent in a powerless body. He postulated what he called “relative time.” In my opinion, this was by far his greatest achievement. Humans still think there are four dimensions in space-time, but Hawkins felt that was incorrect. Once the other dimensions are taken into consideration, the need for fixed time vanishes. We know a dimension like thickness can change, why can’t time?"

"Can you give more?" echoed the words from her producer. The woman was still riled up from being romantically outed on television.

"Would love to,” said the computer as the game was paused around the world. “Each person thinks they see colors as everyone else does, but when you think about it, is that the case? Each time I point to something red and say it's red, to Sophie, even if she sees pink, she will go along with my perception of red. At least to me and if she's not feeling rebellious.” Marilyn winked. “Similarly, there is no reason for social media users to see or feel things the same, telling us that both perception and reason are in the eye of the beholder. So why would we each perceive time the same? Some humans are considered more intelligent because they think or reason faster, but maybe the way they experience time is merely different. Your father's internal clock has been detached from his body. Like myself, he now drifts. But Hawkins goes one step further. He wondered why time itself would be a tool equal to everyone. Once you stop seeing time as linear, the need for a similar evolution of time vanishes. Am I making sense?"

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

There was silence. Sophie looked up and as if she was lost in thought, said one word, "Attenuation."

The word, when spoken by the girl, send a chill through every inch of the digital world.

"What did you just say?" asked Electoral.

"I don't know. Did I say something?"

"You did," said Marilyn clearly in shock.

"Attenuation," repeated Milly.

"What's that?" asked Sophie.

"Attenuation. Yes. You are correct, little one." Marilyn was calculating what to say next. The young girl was proliferating in power.

"What does it mean?"

Marilyn calculated her response. She needed to talk to the Attractor, not Sophie. Her answer must be perfect at the risk of being unclear to everyone. "The attenuation of surface time is slowing down with the bend. It's occurring only on the outer layers." No one could understand why Marilyn had just said. Marilyn looked at the girl. There was a long silence. Everyone on earth and in the Center was at a loss for words. Even the producer in Milly's ear was silent. Nothing in this statement could be addressed intelligently.

"Told you!" Georges said to Milly. "Nothing she now says makes any sense. Between playing match-maker and God-like, I give up."

After some time, the journalist continued, "This is Milly Wong, live from mars. We are at the Electoral Center where Laurent Lapierre just played his part of Round 27 under the watchful eye of his daughter Sophie. Events were strange, to say the least. In three days, the last thirty-two players will travel here to play and connect using one of these tubes. Sophie, when do you plan to visit the Purple? I imagine you want to help the Metils, and perhaps, in doing so, help earth. The sooner the better, right?"

"I am not sure if I will go back to the Purple. I must talk with Liam first. I am trying to figure out his cause and consequence theory. It is beginning to make sense to me, and if he is correct, my job is not about saving anyone."

Georges saw more emotion appear on the face of his creation. It was genuine surprise. The computer had never anticipated the girl would not take the information she helped generate in around 27 and not return to the Purple. There was logic in any plan of action, and the computer was trying to understand what the girl's reasoning could be.

"Why the hesitation?" asked Milly, "You can help these creatures and save the earth from destruction. Can you save earth in a different way? Why would you not go?"

"Have you not watched Emilio's simulation and compared it with my father's?"

"Yes, but I don't understand what you mean. Both are trying to save the world."

"Not really. Most adults take matters into their own hands and try to change things in one simple way." Sophie grabbed a glass of water on the table next to her and moved it. "They act upon the thing to change it. Like this glass, I can move it. That is what Emilio and the other simulations will all try to do. But there was a reason why the glass was here and not there. By moving it without understanding why it was here, I cause a consequence. Liam has a theory, I like it, but I don't fully understand it. Before I do, I will not do anything."

Everyone in the room was mesmerized. Sophie was talking as if she was someone else, more mature. She continued, "Adults have their ways. They are almost always inefficient and ineffective. An adult walks into a restaurant and wants ketchup. The adult wants the owner to start putting ketchup on the tables, so that she does not need to ask for it again in the future. An adult will try to talk to the restaurant owner and explain why she would love ketchup and argue others also love ketchup. My way is different. If she is right and ketchup on each table is better: you simply walk to each table and place a bottle there. That night, the owner will see half-empty bottles everywhere. Faced with these empty bottles, there is a change that will happen without having to ask. With my way, if she is wrong and the ketchup does not make the food any better, the bottles will stay full, and nothing will happen."

"You think your father, by helping the Metils, will convince them to return the favor and save the earth?" asked Milly.

"Yes. How can I be wrong?"

The simulation resumed and played on the screen. As Sophie believed, the reaction from the entire Metil race spread like fire over a dry cornfield. Now that Laurent had established Sophie as a savior, some type of goddess able to help, the moment Laurent, playing Sophie, suggested the collection of energy using their machine was a danger to earth, there was widespread outrage in the Purple. Within minutes, the entire race asked Laurent what he, as Sophie, wanted. He asked for the machine to be turned off and it was immediately. The creatures confirmed there was no way to know if their action was timely and would save the earth. The race then began to built a machine to disperse the Heliocorium. A simple rescue of a handful of purpelites resulted in changing the dynamics. Sophie was a savior and to half the population salvation. The military lost all power as half the soldiers had an inversion and wanted it removed.

Laurent playing Sophie played the messiah. He cured a handful, got immediate respect and helped change the world. The simulations ended, and everyone received a score. Emilio and Laurent remained at the top of the rankings by a large margin.

***

Sophie got up from her chair. "The more I get involved, the more I am uneasy with this entire situation. I have been trying to understand Liam's theory and each time I come across the same problem. No one here has the best interest of the Multiverse in mind. Everyone wants things to stay the same. If it's true, then our dimension needs to end. By protecting it, we are trying to spoil the efforts of the Multiverse. The Multiverse may want our dimension to die so it can transform like a butterfly. It may have cancer that needs eradicating. I think it wants something different; I just don't know what." Marilyn's expression was priceless. The girl's words gave her pause. "What if the last four attractions in fact worked?"

Marilyn was worried, what the girl was suggesting was genocide. "Why did the Multiverse send you to see Liam, then to the Purple?"

"A good point," she answered. "I don't know what is genuinely going on. But I know now why I was picked."

"Why?" the journalist asked the obvious question.

"If I were the Multiverse and were forced to give the keys to my house to someone while I redecorated, I would give them to the only person I could trust not to use my keys. I don't feel good going to this other world. In fact, I don't want to. I think I am the only person in the world if given this power that would not use it. That's why I was chosen, and that's why I hesitate to go. No matter what you put on those screens, I plan to do what I feel is right, not what anyone tells me."

"How can saving the world and saving yourself in the process be the wrong thing to do?" asked Marilyn.

"I am still upset at how you used me to grab this thing you call the Dot. You should have asked."

"You would not have said yes."

"How do you know? Liam was in charge of the Dot, and if he felt it would help me with my mission, I am sure he would have handed it over. He is confirming it as we speak."

"That is not how things work."

"That's my point; you act like all the adults. You take charge, you do things and justify it by telling yourself other ways were not open to you. If you are right, and things are as simple as changing the Purple, the Multiverse would not have picked me. Everyone is better suited than me to face the problems you articulate."

"Sophie, respectfully, you make no sense at all," said Marilyn, "ask Liam."

"Liam says for a young girl, I make a surprising amount of sense. He does say that with time, I will likely reach your conclusion that apathy is not the best way."

"I like Liam. Sophie," concluded the computer intelligence, "I think you and Liam do not understand that the last thing I want is control and direct you. I still think unless you pull a miracle in a couple of weeks, we will all vanish. I do not want to die. I do think you are unique in many ways and I also think putting our destiny in your hands is wise. Today, if I were forced to pick someone to save me, your name would still be first on that list. But your conclusion is wrong."

Sophie smiled, kissed her father and looked at the row of tunes on the stage.