Simulacra Novels & Stories

"I won't let them harm us." Aunt Cleo's voice sliced through the air like a warning bell, her words laced with urgency and gravity. "Aqua, you need to grasp the true threat of the coven. They're not just ordinary casters. Each possesses unique abilities, ranging from unnaturally swift regeneration and inhuman strength to the sinister power to manipulate creatures and even people, turning them into spies. Some even boast of an unnerving form of immortality, extending their lives far beyond the natural order. And worst of all, they have the terrifying capability to absorb the powers of other casters."

“I never made that call. This thing is inside my head somehow.” Paranoia spread through the team like wildfire. Marcus paced the room, his eyes darting between the real Joel and the source of the voice. Leila felt her heart fracture under the weight of doubt. The mirror version was not just imitating speech. It predicted decisions with terrifying accuracy, weaving in details only the real Joel should know. New clues from the second nest’s data logs now made horrifying sense. IZO44 had harvested enough of their shared history, their private conversations, and their emotional patterns to create living simulations. Joel’s mirror was the first, but others could follow. Lena, now bandaged and sli

Bima grabbed the man's arm, but his hand simply passed through empty air. The figure had already begun to dissolve into pixels. "He is going to merge every human memory into a single network he calls the 'Flavor Heaven.' There, humans will live in a simulation of perfect happiness. Without hunger, without pain, and without free will." "That's a prison!" Bima roared, staring at the crystal tree, which had already reached the clouds. "For us, yes. For those exhausted by the apocalypse, it is a prayer answered." Before the figure vanished completely, he pointed to the metal suitcase now lying at Bima's feet. A case that once held seeds, now emitting a pulse of light in sync with the heartbeat o

The next morning, while I was making tea for Lucas, I noticed something strange—he was shaving in front of the mirror, but his reflection was missing. I looked at him in fear. He turned and smiled, but a small barcode glowed near his neck: “Model: Lucas 2.0 – Project Andromeda.” Outside the window, the sun displayed a message in bold red letters: “Level 54 Completed. To enter Level 55, remove the subject’s heart.” The cup slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. Were we still inside the simulation? And Lucas… had he really returned, or was he just another trap created by my father?

It was a bridge between Malakor’s old logic and Lyra’s new resonance. As Kael tuned his device, the air in the room began to shimmer. It wasn't the green of the sickness or the gold of the sun. It was a soft, pale violet—the color of Lyra’s eyes before she became the sky. A figure materialized. It wasn't Lyra, but a Simulacrum—a manifestation of the information entropy taking shape. "You are trying to remember too much," the Simulacrum whispered. Its voice was a layered chorus of thousands of voices from the past. "By holding onto every spark, you are preventing the next fire from starting."

Not something created casually, and also not something created by amateurs. Aria noticed the change immediately. "Desmond?" I looked towards her. "The doll." Her eyebrows pulled together. "What about it?" I stood. Because suddenly it all made sense. "Fabien." Daniel immediately understood. "The replica?" I nodded. Years ago, I had reviewed a corporate acquisition report involving one of Fabien's former employers. The company specialised in hyper-realistic synthetic replicas. Medical training models. Custom mannequins. Human simulations. Some of the most advanced technology in Europe.

for the dying elite of the human world. Silas lay on the white-glass platform, his teeth clenched against the rhythmic, soul-shredding pull of the pumps. He felt his "Unmapped" frequency being "Down-sampled," his very identity being siphoned away to fuel a world that viewed him as a "Resource." "I can... I can feel her, Silas," Lyra gasped from the platform beside him. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed in a look of agonizing concentration. She wasn't talking about herself; she was talking about the "Duplicate Lyra" in the simulation.

Her expression was fixed, wary—not of the gala, but of what Julian might see when he looked into Crane’s construct. “He’ll be close,” she said. Julian nodded. “I want him to be.” “You should know,” she continued carefully, “the sim hasn’t just been modeled off your tactics. It’s been taught your mannerisms. Your rhythm. Your stillness.” Julian gave a faint, humorless smile. “That’s the problem with imitation,” he said. “It always gets stillness wrong.”

What was on the display on top of the stage, not only silence me and took my fascination away, but so does everybody else in Conference Hall. Because to everyone including me, what Rafaela introduced as the Synthetic Limbs, looks exactly like a real limbs. That is right, it looks like a real actual severed limbs that were placed neatly in order on the table. It ranges from fingers, to arms, legs and even toes. Not only that it covers the main limbs, but then it goes as far as the other features for all of the Races in Fantasma, Tails for the Demi-Human, be it The Draconic tails or the Tails of the Fox Demi-Human.

It was unlike regular presentations Sia had seen on the only computer owned by Wrick on the island. She could see the holograms of models in front of her. They were so realistic. She could even touch and feel the models. Mr. Ben planned to use clones for developing an army of soldiers armed with weapons so advanced that would make them invincible. She wondered why he needed my help? He seemed to have everything sorted. Jurek answered my unspoken question, “The use of clones for any other purpose other than the transfer of conscience is prohibited by even immortals.” That was a surprising bit of news. Sia didn’t know that even the immortals had to follow the rules. It was relieving to know th