A Pedestal In Gold

Bread strained his eyes towards the top. It was the building coach had warned him about. The skyscraper was a discombobulated mess, spiraling up in swirls and rigid turns. It was chaotic. Creative? Maybe it was what most would’ve considered artistic.

He knew what this building was. It was Simular’s main office. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. The signs were all over the place—advertisement boards, public commercials on display, obnoxiously loud broadcasts around the city announcing to the world about Simular, the simulation where you could live another life with a little more spice. He didn’t even have to go far to figure that out.

As large as the place was, there was nobody inside. It was almost desolate for such a big building. At least, that’s what it felt like until the elevator door opened without warning. A blinking arrow on the floor pointed him inside, so he followed it in. And slowly, he was lifted towards the top. Elevator music started to play…

Wherever this was taking him, he didn’t mind. He wanted answers. And he wanted to figure things out himself this time. Not just wait for something to happen.

He just needed that final push.

…

The elevator door finally opened, and he got off. A glass office greeted his eyes. And windows upon windows of clouds. Nothing else. The ground wasn’t even visible. It felt like he was floating above the world just standing there.

“And look who’s back,” a voice sounded from the other end of the office. “Clearly, paying a bunch of hooligans wasn’t enough to keep you away.”

Azan. He remembered that face. But Bread was a little confused. Does he know who I am? He shouldn’t have looked the same. He had a new body and all these new mechanical accessories. How did he know?

“What’re you staring at?” He leaned over his desk. His blue suit made him camouflage with the clouds. “I know everything.” Then he coolly stretched his legs on top. “Probably here for Gunther, yeah?”

“Gunther?”

“You don’t even know his name? And you have the audacity to call him your dad?”

“Dad?” Was he here? “Where?”

“Know what? I’ll admit it. You’re weird as hell. Definitely no normal AI.” A moment’s pause before his brow raised. “Oh, I just came up with something. You’re the first of your kind after all—a simulated human. How about… simulan? Has a nice ring to it, yeah? Say it with me—simulan.”

Simulan? “What?”

“Do you see that?” He gestured out the window. “That beautifully outstretched city outside?”

“I don’t see anythi—”

“Simular was supposed to be at the top of all that. An all-encompassing beacon of freedom and hope. It was supposed to be a lighthouse for the weary, a merry-go-round of never-ending excitement…” His expression changed. It was sharper this time. “It was supposed to be grand. All of this was supposed to be grand. That city down below—Novus Lokris. That was supposed to be our beginning. Me… and Gunther. CEO and Creator. How lovely is that?” He looked downcast for a moment. “But it’s all gone now, yeah? You get me? Still following along?”

CEO and Creator? Gunther? Was Dad really…

“And you know who messed it all up?” Azan pointed his finger. “You.” He stood up, twirling a golden pen in hand. “You came back for a reason, yeah? You were free. Free to roam the earth, free to revel. But you came back.” He smirked. “Seriously, why’d you come back? You really miss him? He threw you away like filth.” His vibrant expression suddenly took a turn for the worse. His smile disappeared. His voice lowered and reverberated around the room. “But I don’t really care about your feelings. Just remember. Nobody”—he walked a little closer—“gets in the way of my plans. Not Gunther, not you.”

Bread was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. “I just… want to speak to my dad.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m busy. And he’s not here. Probably running around some shithole still trying to find you.”

He went out looking for me? “Do you know where he is?”

“No. What’s it to you? He’s not even your real dad.”

The way Azan acted when he saw him… There was an underlying emotion beneath all those words. A sort of distanced distaste. Was it him? Was he the problem?

“Do you hate me?” Bread asked.

“Do I… hate you?” His nose crinkled. “You being serious? All just a bunch of monkeys, aren’t you?”

He was a little more certain now. Azan’s facial expression told him so. But why? What did he do to deserve all that hatred? What did he do wrong this time?

“You’re more trouble than what you’re worth, yeah? But I’ll let it go. Just this once.” He waved his hand aside. “Get outta here. Shoo. Be happy I even entertained the thought of conversation.”

“Why do you hate me?”

Veins started to protrude from his face. “You’re in no position—” He stopped himself. “See? This is why. You get in my way, and somehow, you still ask so many stupid fucking questions. It’s like you just know how to push my buttons.” He sighed. “Last chance. Get out of my sight. And Gunther’s too.”

Dad too? “Why Dad?”

“I’m threatening you! Don’t you understand? What happened to the scared little boy from before? Get out! I said, get out!”

Bread fell deep into rumination. He wanted to know. Did Dad hate him too? Did he really not forget about him? But then why would he go searching? Was he trying to reset him? Take him back and set things right for his experiments? That didn’t sound too bad…

Finally, he came to a conclusion—he wouldn’t leave until he got an answer. That was the only way. Whatever happened, he’d leave it up to fate.

Fate.

Relying on fate instead of his records… He liked the idea of that. It was refreshing and new. Like what Coach had said—“Follow your instincts.” And whatever happened from here on out, he wasn’t going to give up. He wasn’t intent on letting others or his records determine his life for him. Not this time.

“I want to talk to Dad,” Bread replied with renewed confidence.

“You won’t!” he cried. “What’s with that look? Why’s everyone so intent on pushing me around? I’m the CEO, damn it!”

“Why can’t I talk to Dad?”

“What obligations do I have to tell you of all people?!”

“Dad would’ve wanted me to talk to him.” So that maybe he could finally be reset…

“Shut up!” Azan slammed his hands on the desk. “Dad this, dad that. He’s not your dad! He’s the creator! The glorious symbol of freedom! He’s not some—ordinary father figure! Why can’t you get that into your thick skull? I placed all the cogs in the right place! I’m the one that made all this turn! But you just had to—to pollute my plans with all this pretend family nonsense!” He threw his nameplate at Bread. It struck the elevator behind him. “Just leave!”

“No.” His resolve stayed strong. “I won’t.” He wasn’t backing out now.

“No?” Azan massaged his temples. “You know what? That’s fine. Let’s make this messy then.” He pulled out his golden pen and twirled it around his fingers. “I should’ve done this sooner.” Then he aimed the tip at Bread. “Know what this is?”

“What?” What did he mean? Wasn’t that just a pen?

“I call it Smiles. Know why?” He grinned.

“I don’t—”

“Because the last thing you’ll remember is my face.”

There was a click. And a flash of light that blinded his eyes. Something high-pitched sounded from the pen. And suddenly—

Glass. Everywhere.