Brother Unclepear entered the room of his predecessor with an instinctive care.
While he had already received the reins of power, Papa Unclepear was still the man who shaped and ruled the country for seven decades, a living god to his people and the closest thing to family he personally had.
The room was pitch black, except for the moonlight pouring from the big window, which opened on the balcony, projecting a cone of light in which two chairs were positioned. Papa was sitting in one, clad as always in his trademark of look of cloak and top hat.
“Papa, I am here” Brother announced himself, as his sight slowly adjusted.
“Please Brother, join me here” the Eternal Leader said, gesturing the empty chair with a bony hand.
Brother sat and asked: “What can I do for you Papa?”
“My time is running out Brother” he suddenly spoke, raising an hand to prevent his successor from interrupting him with some ritual words of comfort “Spare it, I know better than anyone that I’ll be dead before I see a new year. I suspect that today, my birthday, could be the day… oh this is the kind of detail he loves”.
“Who Papa? No one has succeeded in the attempts on your life in almost a century, they won’t now”.
“I’ll explain in a moment” he answered with a slight smile.
“Now that I have secured your position as the new Leader, before it’s too late I must reveal you the biggest secret I ever knew, the secret on which I have build everything, starting from who I am. You must believe me, no matter how absurd it may seem”
“I never doubted any word you ever spoke Papa”
“Hold on that thought. Now, you have certainly read from the classified version of my history that I began my rise as the Leader during the war, when I got lost on Mount Laveux in 1943”
“Yes Papa, I have. It didn’t explained why, though”
“Because I have never told anyone! I made a discovery there. Not something physical… I might say the opposite, literally. A realization, a belief, an awareness that changed my view of everything forever”
“What?”
Papa leaned toward Brother, looking him straight in the eyes, a sparkle still burning in his. He paused a second, as if uncertain whether to push himself beyond a point of no return.
“We are not real”
The remained in silence for a few second, then Brother took a deep breath and spoke: “I don.. I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“This reality doesn’t exist. Our flesh, these chairs, this island, the whole South Pacific: they are just a figment of imagination”
“You mean we are imagining all of this?”
“There is no ‘we’, Brother. We don’t really exists either, if not as characters part of something” the old man explained, his form coming more and more alive as if someone plugged him to a power source.
“Something what?” the young one asked, sensing both wonder and concert mount.
“I am not sure, but I suspect we are part of either a novel, or a series of them, or a game, or a combination of both”
“I did read some foreign news about a scientific hypothesis that we are a computer simulation run by aliens…”
“Forget that! Much less fancy, I’m talking about an author, who’s probably typing my own words right now”
“Papa I-I must confess that despite my absolute faith in you I…”
“Look!” Papa said, standing up and pointing at a map of the South Pacific hanging on the wall “Look at this little island there. Doesn’t is ring a bell?”
“Now that you say it, I do have a lingering feeling in the back of my mind, but I can’t tell about what...”
“It’s because Bruuma was once here!”
“How is that possible?”
“The author changed the location at the certain point. Space and time are just as fake as everything else. Probably, he wasn’t even born in 1943. And countries come and go… Sporaltryius, Darkstrait… remember them?”
“Again, they ring a bell but I can’t point exactly…”
“It takes time, you’ll learn. That’s how and why I did what I did. They say I am immoral, but how can I be if morality is a fiction too? I order a thousand people executed for treason with a snap of my fingers because I know they are not real”.
“Then why haven’t you conquered the world?”
“There are limits. I suspects other countries are ruled by other players, or authors”.
Silence came back for another, long minute.
“Then?” Brother asked.
“Then what?”
“What do we do about it?”
Papa smiled, this time a full, wicked smile “This is the other half of my secret, the most important one. When an idea, such as a character is born, the author gifts it with a sparkle of existence, and thus of autonomy. Imagine the author decides to leave the game. Other players might use us, or some versions of us, or the author could make us live in other simulated realities… once we are out, it is difficult to put us back into nothingness. Death is truly not the end for me, but just my way out of here” he said. His form began to wane, as slowly dissolving “I guess the author called it a night. Don’t worry for me and make good use of this knowledge, I’m sure you’ll do just right” Brother stood up and leant an hand to grasp him, but his fists came back empty.
“It’s time to go. Good luck Brother, see you in the next idea”.
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