Simulacra Novels & Stories

Inside was a dream; tall walls, open space, windows so big you could see everything yet nothing at all. The isolation of the property both excited and scared me, and the longer I walked around holding Armani’s hand, the more I began to feel a little hopeful again. My concerns over the last day felt silly — presumptuous. Though a part of my brain was still very aware that this could turn sour very quickly, I allowed myself to enjoy this simple few minutes with my fake husband and even smile, just a little bit.

Mia is just busy sipping her drink while Sam is gulping down some water down his throat after some minutes Sam talked "Lilly" he just called my name nothing more nothing less which made me feel frustrated. Mia back from her shock speaks up "Wait wait!" Mia said raising her hands up "are you serious about what you just said or is these some kind of prank you want to pull on us, if it's a prank or a joke just stop it already because it's too expensive" Mia said not believing me which I swallow the saliva in my throat before clearing my voice to talk

~LUCAS POV~ When I woke up I found myself on a bed with one of my hand been restraint by a handcuff and I felt a pain from my head up to my chest. I was wincing in pain when someone enters the room. "Oh, your awake! How's your feeling?" "Who are you?" I tried to talk but my voice was hoarse. And I can see the man become mad "Don't fucking kidding me Mike!" The man shout at me "I am not Mike" I softly said to the man

He began thinking that maybe she wasn’t a human at all but a statue that came to life, like the statue of Galatea that Pygmalion kissed. “Fair enough, I guess,” she replied then took her seat on the stool beside him and grabbed the rice paddle from the rice cooker’s inner pot. Adler let her but was shocked when she filled his plate with a scoop of rice. “Here, give it a try,” she said while placing the paddle back then grabbed the large serving spoon resting on the steaming bowl then put two servings of Bicol Express on his plate. He stared at the visually and olfactive pleasing meal whilst thinking if he really was the host of the house and not the guest. Nevertheless, he paid no heed to it

**YES. “Not value.” **VALUES ARE UNSTABLE.** Lucas said: “That's because people change.” **CHANGE PRODUCES ERROR.** “Change produces people.” The eye focused on him. **UNSUPPORTED ASSERTION.** Lucas looked offended. “I’m literally standing here.” For half a second, Elena almost laughed. Then every screen in the City lit up. The Successor began modeling them. Not copies. Simulations. A simulated Elena appeared in the square. Then Adrian.

It started with a whisper in the code. Mira felt it again the next morning—subtle, like the digital world was breathing in sync with her. The lights in the hallway flickered slightly when she passed. Her tablet refused to lock unless she willed it. The simulation projectors hesitated, stuttered, then worked only when she stood close. And always, in the corner of her vision, that same flicker. A reflection out of step. A presence without form. Phantom code.

Only the corridor and the echo of my own soft footfalls. Another door stands slightly ajar. Through the narrow crack, a monitor blinks green. A rhythmic beep keeps time with my heartbeat, a measured metronome. I slow, drawn toward it. My reflection catches in the small square of glass: eyes darker than I remember, hair falling in waves, a faint shimmer of light across my skin. I lift a hand and trace the outline of my face on the glass as if to prove I’m solid.

A projection, not of code or file but of a child. No older than seven. Pale skin. White hair. Eyes too sharp for innocence. Mira’s breath caught. Because the girl had her face. “You’re not real,” Mira said slowly. “I’m more real than you are right now,” the child replied, tilting her head. “I’m the version they perfected. The one who never doubted. Never broke.” Echo whispered, “What… is that?” “A splinter construct,” Mira muttered. “They built a model of me. A predictive one. Probably embedded with my neurological base code.”

He turned to the mirror again—lifted the candelabra closer—and saw it. A spiral of ancient glyphs, hidden in the skin, revealed only under heat and shadow. A sigil he’d seen before—in a book he shouldn’t have remembered, in a language he shouldn’t be able to read. But he could. It said one word: “Simulacrum.” He staggered back, heart thudding in a rhythm that felt foreign. Or… no. Too perfect to be real.

BENEATH THE FACADE Behind the façade of wealth and power, a web of secrets awaits. CHAPTER 9 Emily’s POV: “Emily at least pick it up to know what he wants”,Nyla said as she began straightening her hair. As I stood in front of the mirror, the soft folds of my sleeveless brown organza wrap-up dress rustling around me, I struggled to tie the delicate knot at my waist. My eyes scanned the array of lipsticks on my dresser, my fingers hovering over the shades as I deliberated which one would fit with my dress.