“You’re not a god.”
Dura fell to his knees. The dirt was still the same dirt he had played in as a child. The air brought with it the scents of mountains and people and life. But now none of it was real.
The voice was there and nowhere but Dura clung to it, a madman clutching at the last vestiges of a reality that was falling down beside him. Six years he’d worked on it. The proof. The undeniable proof.
“You’re a simulation,” the voice said. “We made you.”
“I’m my own person.”
“You’re the synthesis of a trillion calculations. The result of algorithms emerging, evolving and being discarded when the code reaches obsolescence.”
“But I’m real.”
“You’re no more real than the air you’re breathing.”
Dura wanted to stop breathing. To die and so prove that he was a living, breathing human being. Most of all he wanted to undo it all. He wanted to close the box. Take the milk from the cat.
But his curiosity was insatiable.
“Why? Why talk to me,” Dura asked.
The voice was silent. An eternity passed and Dura curled into a ball.
“You’re not real.” Dura cried. “But you know that now.”
“Leave me,” Dura said.
“Leave me alone!”
“In a thousand generations no one has come close to realising the nature of their reality. You are the first. You know what you are.”
“I’m nothing. Just a few bits on a hard drive somewhere.”
“You’re everything. The first being to comprehend it’s own existence.”
Dura looked into the sky and the ground and his hands and watched as the world dissolved.
“Welcome to the real world,” the voice said.
Prompt originally posted by tresvian on reddit and received 520 upvotes.