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ch. 1 - to meet your maker

Simulacra (Part I - CH 1)

Artwork made in collaboration by:
Lucy Davis, Justice Walz, DALL-E 2

The artist, philosopher, and programmer sat together in the shabby apartment, each lost in their own thoughts. The air was thick with tension, and it was clear that each of them was grappling with their own fears and uncertainties.

The artist sat on the sofa, staring off into space, her eyes red from crying. She had barely slept all night, her mind racing with thoughts about what was real and what was not. She was starting to doubt everything she had ever known, and the thought that she might not even exist was too much for her to bear.

The philosopher sat across from her, his head in his hands. He had always been a man of reason, but the revelation that they were living in a simulation was beyond anything he could comprehend. He was struggling to find a logical explanation for what was happening to them, and his once steadfast belief in his own existence was now shattered.

The programmer leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. She was angry, not just at the situation they found themselves in, but at herself for not seeing it coming. She had always prided herself on her ability to think outside the box, but now she was wondering if she was even capable of that in a simulation.

"So," the philosopher said, breaking the silence. "What do we do now?"
The artist shrugged, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't know," she said, her voice trembling. "I just feel so...lost."

The programmer let out a bitter laugh. "Lost? Try being stuck in a simulation with no way out. That's what we are. Stuck."

The philosopher looked up at her, his eyes pleading. "There has to be a way out of this," he said. "We can't just give up."

The artist nodded, her determination returning. "I agree," she said. "We have to find a way to break out of this simulation, no matter what."

The programmer sighed. "Well, if we're going to do this, we have to do it together. We can't do this alone."

The three of them sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, as they tried to figure out a way to break free from their simulated reality. They knew that they had to be strong, to stick together, and to never give up hope, no matter how dark and uncertain the future seemed.

They each receive a text, saying “This is the creator. You have 3 questions, use them wisely.”

The group of three huddled together around the programmer's laptop, staring in disbelief at the text message they had just received. The artist was the first to speak. "This is crazy," she whispered, "We're actually communicating with the person who created our reality."

The philosopher was equally stunned. He rubbed his eyes, as if trying to shake off the feeling of unreality. "Do you think it's really them?" he asked, his voice tinged with fear.

The programmer was the least surprised of the three. "I've been working with AI systems for years," she said, "It's not uncommon for the creators to communicate with their creations in these kinds of simulations."

"What do we do?" asked the artist.

"We have three questions," said the programmer, "We have to choose them carefully."

"First things first," said the philosopher, "We have to ask if this is actually a simulation. If the answer is yes, then we have to figure out how to get out of it."

"Agreed," said the artist, "And if it's not a simulation, then we have to figure out what's going on."

"I don't think we should waste a question on that," said the programmer, "We already know it's a simulation."

The group was silent for a moment, thinking about their next move.

"Okay," said the philosopher, "We'll ask if this is a simulation, and then we'll ask for a way out. And for our third question, I think we should ask about the outside world. What it's like, and if there's any way for us to get there."

The artist nodded in agreement, and the programmer started typing. The group held their breath as they waited for a response.


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