20 min read. Published 2026-01-06. Last edited 2026-01-06.
See my other posts!I had always had this feeling like the things around me weren’t real. Things were somehow lacking this kind of depth, this interestingness. So my quest to figure out what was going on began. Was I in a simulation? Of course, if you find yourself in a simulation, that affects the other people around you too, and I didn’t know who I could trust. And yet, all around me were clues.
Movies, philosophers, books, and common conversation all seemed to be pointing at the same thing. It was possible. But if I was in a simulation, why would the simulation itself make it so obvious that its existence was possible? Maybe by introducing the idea, the idea could be ridiculed and the masses could be assuaged of their worries. Or maybe… there was a deeper reason.
So my research began. When I first started, it was hard work. Crawling through obscure internet articles, reading through Descartes’ Meditations, and watching what was going on around me for signs. I even went out and bought a corkboard like all the other conspiracy theorists do. After putting up and organizing my accumulating evidence, it seemed like some things were connected, but I really wasn’t seeing the full picture.
This continued for years. I kept face at my regular job as a data analyst, but I eventually divorced my wife and kids so I could dedicate more time to my research. They cried and said things like “Why the sudden change? What’s really going on?” and “How will we pay the bills now?” and “Did you ever love us?” but it was hard to hear their cries when I wondered if they were even real.
And at some point, everything started making sense. I started seeing things, hearing things that others couldn’t seem to. Occasionally a note would appear on my corkboard that… I didn’t remember writing. These gave me more clues, more connections to elucidate. A famous movie from the 1990’s. A protagonist known only by a single name. A wise black man leads the way. Fighting the machine menace. What happened in 1999? What happened in 2003? The person behind the picture. Could it be? In a moment, I understood who was responsible for all of this, and they became my new god. I felt a newfound sense of confidence ring through my body, and I built a shrine to them and began to pray to it.
All of a sudden, I started getting connected, getting powerful. I learned how to dress black-tie, and I was able to get into more and more prestigious events, including the Bohemian Grove in San Francisco. There, I was offered many things: money, power, sex. But none of it was of interest to me. I knew where I was going.
I continued walking through the camp until I met a woman playing with a $1 bill. “E pluribus unum,” I confidently told her. “What?” she responded. “Uh, novus ordo seclorum.” She just shook their head. “Annuit cœptis?” All of a sudden, the vibe between us changed. “I see,” she said. “You seek an audience with the Illuminati?” “I do.” “And who are you to request such an audience?” “Someone trying to know the truth.” “Well, we have truth in abundance. What is your name?” “Jack Stalbard.” “Well, Jack Stalbard, meet at this location at this time, and you will find your audience.” She handed me the $1 bill, and turns around to leave.
“Wait,” I said. “Why ‘annuit cœptis’? I felt like at least ‘novus ordo seclorum’ would’ve been the secret phrase, y’know, with the New World Order and all.”
“Oh, yeah, it used to be Novus until we got into a dispute with the Skull and Bones society that quite honestly has more political power than us right now. So we got to keep the Eye of Providence symbol but we had to change the secret phrase. They have a booth a bit to the east if you want to ask them about it.”
“Ah, I see. Well, best of luck with world domination!”
“Ah, yeah, best of luck to you too.” She turned around and walked away.
I turn my attention to the $1 bill I was handed. Is this another test? I look at it, trying to look for hints. Maybe the serial number contains some clue? I turn over the dollar bill, and conveniently written on that side in pen is a time and location. A secluded manor in the woods, this coming Sunday. That was easy. Wait, was she just waiting to give this to someone? Does this kind of thing happen a lot? Unfortunately, she was gone.
I didn’t have much to do while I waited except continue to pray.
Eventually, the time came. It was a long drive, but right as the sun was setting I made it to the front gate. Stone pillars framing a curling metal gate, vines crawling on everything. At the crest of the gate was a simple triangle, split between the two gate doors. There was a little camera to the left; I rolled down the window, stuck my head out, and waved at it. In a few moments, the gate opened and I followed the road that lead inside. As the low red light washed over the tall trees, I came to the manor. Tall and wide, I rolled up into the porte-cochère and parked. The door opened, and a suited man came out to greet me. “Good evening sir. Could you give me your keys?” I handed them over. I knew that this meant that this gave the people of the manor even more ability to kill and dispose of me if they pleased, but I did not stray from my goal.
I was led inside, seeing the dimly lit interior. A man was waiting on the stairwell, wearing a Venetian mask and thin black cloak. “Are you my audience?” I asked. A low voice responded, “No, but I will take you to them. Follow me.” The figure gestured to follow them up the stairwell, and I did follow. Not just the stairwell, but through the foyer above and many twisting hallways and hidden passages I followed. Eventually, I was lead to a thick wooden door with a golden pentagram framing a frosted glass interior. The figure knocked on the door, and I felt a slight change. Perhaps something really had changed or perhaps it was suddenly becoming more real to me exactly where I was and what was going to happen. In another moment, the door is opened by a hooded figure on the other side. “Please, come in,” said the hooded figure. Their voice was higher, lighter.
As I entered the room, there was a long rectangular table off to the left side, with but two seats open, one at the foot of the table and one right next to it, assumedly where the figure who opened the door was sitting initially. In every other spot was another hooded figure, all in black except the one at the head of the table whose clothing had gold trim. Before themselves sitting, they gestured to the open chair at the table’s foot and said “Please, sit.” So I did.
A silence followed. None of the figures moved, but I could feel myself being watched.
“Jack Stalbard,” boomed the voice in gold. “You come here seeking the truth.”
After a pause, I responded “That’s right.”
“And what is the truth of which you speak?”
“I believe we live in a simulation, and I believe I know who runs it.”
“You have one guess. Guess wrong, and you die, here and now. Do you understand these terms?”
“I do.”
“Then state your guess. Who controls the simulation?”
“Obama!” Never before had I spoken something so true. The certainty, the truth of this utterance resonated out of my body, through my mouth and through the entire room, and everything in it. It all started vibrating, larger and larger until things started to decohere and my ears filled with static, though at this point I don’t know the difference between perception and reality.
The world fades to black.
And then all of a sudden light rushes in and I see a world around me. There he is, Obama himself, his hair in a more youthful color. “My fellow American, you made it. You figured it out. It was me, the whole time. How do you feel?”
I look around, and I seem to be in a server room of some kind. There is metal everywhere. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the future, and the machines have taken over. We need your help to fight them!”
“This area isn’t safe,” another voice chimes in.
“Arnold Schwarzenegger! I knew you were connected too!”
Arnold Schwarzenegger fires a machine gun outside the door of the room we’re in. It’s really loud and I cover my ears as fast as I can. “Get to the choppa!” he shouts over his gunfire.
Obama and I rush out the other door. As we run out, I ask Obama “Why does the simulation exist? And how are you in control of it?”
“I did it to save humanity. After threatening to execute a hack on the machines, I struck a deal with them to stop them from killing all of you. I have some power over the simulation, but they watch my every step so I must be subtle.”
“Wait, then why are you fighting them now?”
“Jack Stalbard, is it? Well, Jack, they don’t know what I do in the physical world, much less what I look like.”
“So everyone else in the simulation, are they people too?”
“Only some. The rest are simulated.”
“What about my wife and kids? Are they simulated?”
“Of course. Your wife is real and one of your kids is, but the other one is simulated. The younger one.”
“Obama, can we save them too?”
“Yes we can,” said Obama.