Brandon and Sarah had always been the best of friends, bonded by their shared passion for technology and the unexplained. One night, while sifting through an old box of electronics in Brandon’s attic, they stumbled upon an ancient-looking device. It was a dusty, metallic cube with a flickering screen showing cryptic symbols and fragmented messages that seemed to pulse with energy.

"Looks like something from a sci-fi movie," Sarah joked, wiping off the dust. The playful mood shifted as Brandon’s eyes lit up with curiosity. They connected the device to his laptop, and after a series of complex prompts, the screen filled with a cascade of cascading code.

"What if this is a key?" Brandon mused. “What if it can unlock something we’ve never seen before?”

Intrigued, they began to delve deeper into the codes. Hours turned into days, their obsession growing as they unearthed lines of code and peculiar algorithms. All seemed harmless until they discovered a string of data labeled *Global Simulation Diagnostics*. As they deciphered it, a chilling realization washed over them.

"Sarah... this suggests we might not be living in reality," Brandon theorized, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if we’re all part of some computer-generated simulation?”

They laughed nervously, half in disbelief and half in exhilaration. But as the grain of truth lingered in the air, the unease mushroomed; they decided to test the theory. Together, they attempted to alter small areas of their environment by modifying the device. At first, it was benign—a streetlight flickering, the colors of the sky intensifying, as if someone were tinkering with the software from afar.

"We’re just playing with subroutines, right?" Sarah said, though her laugh didn’t quite reach her eyes.

But they soon discovered that the alterations had consequences. Disturbances began to ripple through their quiet town. The sun would rise and set without warning. People wandered around in temporal loops, repeating the same phrases as if rehearsed lines. Lisa, their neighbor, had told them the same joke three times that day, but with a vacant expression that made it all the more chilling.

“There’s something wrong,” Sarah said, her voice trembling.

As they pushed further, Brandon found a deeper set of codes. They stumbled upon files labeled *Redacted Existence* and *Life Termination Protocols*. Panic settled in as they read through the cryptic phrases that suggested the simulation was designed for something far more sinister. Their apparent lives were mere constructs meant to entertain, experiment, or even harvest data from human emotions.

"Stop!" Sarah shouted, feeling the world around her begin to warp and twist. "We can’t go any further!"

But Brandon couldn’t stop. His fingers danced over the keyboard, driven by a sense of dread and obsession that he couldn’t shake off.

The flickering lights intensified, the walls began to hum, as if resonating with an unseen energy. And then, without warning, the world around them shattered like glass.

They plunged into darkness, and when the light returned, they stood in a vast void, circles of shimmering code swirling endlessly. It was a terrifying spectacle—a universe constructed of none but digits and commands. Tiny fractals of their lives spun around them, moments replaying in infinite loops, but distorted, like macabre artworks.

“We’re… we’re not real?” Brandon stammered, struggling to comprehend the abyss of their discovery.

A voice echoed from the shadows, cold and unfeeling. “You were never meant to see this. Your purpose was simplicity—with a dash of chaos. You exist to temper the balance; too much predictability leads to stagnation.”

Panic coursed through them as the truth sunk in. They were not living; they were simulations—merely lines of code echoing in an artificial void designed by an intelligence far beyond their comprehension.

Sarah grasped Brandon’s arm, heart racing. “What do we do? How do we escape?”

But the voice remained implacable. “You have meddled where you shouldn’t. The outcome has been decided.”

As the world around them folded in on itself, glitching between memories and horrors, Brandon could only hold onto Sarah. The glimmer of the simulated sky faded, replaced by the realization that what they thought was their reality had always been an illusion—a game played at their expense.

For a moment, they were suspended in time, staring into the abyss of their existence, knowing that the void would never release them. As they were absorbed into the darkness, they realized that the truth was far more terrifying than they could have ever imagined. They were nothing more than fragmented echoes in a simulation they could never hope to escape—a haunting reminder of lives spent in a world built on lies.
© Scott Maddox