My entire life has not been a lie.

Surren has been my home since I was 5 years old. I was one of three children born in the north of Nihata. My brother and sister were younger and were spared from wasting away in the streets of Surren, as I did. When my parents brought my siblings and me into Surren from the north of Nihata, they did so with no money, no belongings and no direction in life. Apparently, it was better to escape the war than to stay and become casualties. I wasn’t so sure.

Surren was the financial capital of Nihata and was its most prosperous city. So it did not take kindly to people coming in who would not uphold its image of prestige. Refugees, my parents included, were allowed to work day and night to survive; but were not allowed to live.

My siblings on the other hand, my four-year old brother and six-year old sister, spent most of their time oblivious to our situation. They believed that one day we could go back to our home, and that this was just a temporary refuge. That, at least, was what our parents kept telling them. Our previous residence had been slightly larger as it was an ancestral home, but to us, that didn’t make much of a difference. As our new home was free of clutter, we played a game of filling it up with newer clothes, furniture and other decorations that we could lay our hands on or steal.

Soon, as was perhaps expected, my brother succumbed to tuberculosis. At the time, we did not even have the money to ease the pain, let alone treat the illness. Seeing him in this condition, I decided to take on work to earn extra money alongside my parents. I apprenticed as a butcher, which helped us put a bit more food on the table. Next, my sister died of pneumonia: winters could get quite harsh, especially for the malnourished. Both my siblings had lasted just about a year in this city.

When I was fifteen, my father died in a mining accident. The structure of the coal shaft collapsed, instantly killing him and ten others. As, it was an illegal operation, the families were generously compensated with hush-money. With one less mouth to feed, it was just my mother and myself.

Eventually she, as a favour to me, joined the Order of Sal Degnum; her needs were taken care of by the church, and I could use the money saved to fend for myself until I found a job. I never did find one to my liking as they either revolved around the supply of food, had dangerous working conditions or involved servitude to the upper classes. So I created a job for myself.

When Jorgen took me to his ‘hideout’ and read out these dry facts and events from a file he held in his hand, it somehow felt very superficial. It was as if my life were no longer my own, but a history lesson meant to be a deterrent to those who hadn’t lived similar lives.

Jorgen’s hideout was far from the city centre, and the building did not have any security guards. This was probably intentional for he could leave and return without being detected. However, everything about the interiors pointed to the fact that Jorgen was either an accomplished thief or a lot wealthier than he had let on. We were still close enough to the clinic we had come from, so I did not mind walking without my protection detail around me. But what good would it have been against someone like Jorgen, whatever he was.

“What do you mean that all of it was a lie?” I asked.

“It’s like I said.” Jorgen put the file down on his well-polished coffee-table. “It’s fiction.”

I seethed with anger, but waited for him to explain, since he was clearly enamoured with the sound of his own voice. On our way here, Jorgen had filled my head with these strange concepts of games and the machines that people from his land (or planet) used to play them. Apparently, games like chess, though still played, were outdated. They had the technology to control ‘avatars’ of yourself within the television set; or a device called cellular phone, which was completely wireless! I could believe none of this.

“Well maybe saying that it was a lie, is not strictly correct.” Jorgen shifted in his leather sofa while I leaned forward in his leather armchair waiting. Waiting was not an issue as I hadn’t used cushions this comfortable in my life. This was clearly what it felt like to be one of these rich pricks.

“Every single event that has happened in your life,” Jorgen continued, “did actually happen. Specifically, to you. It was scripted that way. So there is a record of it, and there is also a record of things that are to happen in the future. Unfortunately, I do not have access to that.”

“Are you talking about destiny?” Erasmus snorted.

“You could call it that. Imagine if you created a man–”

“You mean if I were God?”

Jorgen clearly did not like that word. He evidently disliked such a comparison. “If you were to create a man,” Jorgen re-emphasised, “you will undoubtedly give the man a story. Without a story, a man is just a bag of flesh and blood. What you remember is just a part of your story. Your experiences, viewpoints, ideologies, feelings and actions are all connected to that story. Computers… in my time, keep track of data the same way you keep track of someone's telephone number. You do not attach any sentimental value to it. You remember it clearly as it is, to serve a purpose; like in the case of a phone number, it is to connect and communicate with the person whose number it is.”

“For example,” Jorgen again picked up the file and opened it to one of the last pages. “Do you remember what happened 124 days after your 26th birthday?”

“No.” I answered. “How could I remember such an obscure date?”

“Exactly. You may remember it as the day you visited your mother at the Order of Sal Degnum church after having had no contact with her for 10 years.”

So that was what that date was? Jorgen was right about the fact that I did visit my mother after 10 years. I did not know how to confront my mother about the fact that I had started my own criminal organisation a few months after she left me to my own devices. I remember the date when I saw my aged mother roaming with identically-robed Attendants. I began to draw attention as some people there recognised me either by my security detail or through the rumours spread about my activities and the ‘face’ behind them. I did not mind them as much as I did when I made eye contact with my mother and realised that she did not recognise me. Or at least that's what I told myself as I left the place, although hoping that she had seen me as just another stranger.

“So you do remember that day. This was the first time you looked at yourself, through the eyes of another. Sympathy and empathy are unnecessary for a machine. A machine would find such an action absolutely pointless. Why would you go to your mother after all this time? It was not going to improve your lifestyle, advance your cause or give you answers to any questions you had. Yet you did so.”

“And that is supposed to prove that I am a sort of a robot or ‘artificial intelligence’ as you called it?”

“Err…” Jorgen seemed to be caught off guard. “Look, I can narrate many other such events if you still have doubts about my intentions. I need you to trust me for a while, because things are only going to get more complicated from here.” He had clearly changed his strategy. I couldn’t blame him: I would not relish being in his place and having to explain technology that was decades in the future… to said technology that was decades in the future.


“You know, you sound like one of the members from the Order.” I scoffed. “They also come with tactics to make you question right from wrong and then initiate you into their cult.”

“I am not asking you to consider what is right and wrong. I am telling you that everything you know and believe is essentially beyond your control.”

“And what about you? You come from ‘Earth’ right?”

“I don’t ‘come’ from there. You are making me sound like some sort of an alien.”

“Well whatever it is, do you also hear people saying that your whole life is a lie?”

“Yes, but they usually do not have a good chunk of proof to back it up.” Jorgen waved the file under my nose before dropping it back again on to the table. “And if you will allow me to show you, there is a way that you can disrupt the world. But only I can do it for you.”

“And that is?”

“In the next few hours, someone is going to possess your body. Your body at that time would need to be in a certain state, physically and mentally. Since I am not part of the system of this world, if I modify your body in a certain way, there will be a conflict with the person trying to possess you. Essentially, if I, a person not restricted to the rules and scripts of this world, make an adjustment to your state of being, and if someone then tries to take over your body, they wouldn’t be able to follow the scripts anymore, as they are not working with an untouched body. Get it?”

“Not at all.”

“It’s simple, let me explain it in another way–”

“There is no need.” I cut him off. “You said that you need to show me what my ‘purpose’ is. So what is it?”

“Your purpose is to become the King of this world.”

“No it isn’t.” I snapped. Strangely, I had actually had such a dream when I was a child, but then, doesn’t everyone have aspirational dreams when young? Anyway, it was all a fantasy - I could hardly manage one country, the world in its entirety would be a different ball game altogether. I did not have either the army or the resources.

“Yes, it is. Every purpose is born from an event that takes place. I have now given you a goal, it is your choice whether to achieve it or not. But something tells me that you will indeed achieve it. That is why you started your gang. That is why you are filling the streets with information and ideas to slowly cause disturbances in this city. You want this city to fall, don’t you Erasmus?”

I looked at him quizzically. Then another question came to my mind. “You said you are an immortal. Explain that to me.” If immortality was a possibility, I may be able to work with that.

“Ah, you mean this.” Jorgen brought back the ‘HP’ bar on top of his head again. He got up and paced around his living room, clearly excited about this part of the explanation.“

“Unfortunately, you cannot achieve this state. This is granted to people or to those of us humans that enter the game. Imagine if there was a game where you could die of hunger, disease or a single bullet.”

“That doesn’t sound much like a game.”

“In the future, everything can be a game if it is designed as such. The title of ‘immortal’ is a fashionable tag which basically means that we cannot truly die in this world. Our bodies in this world can decay, but our–“

“–souls live on forever.” I completed the line that the Order of Sal Degnum preaches. Jorgen did not like being interrupted, or having me complete his profound statement.

“I was going to say that our real bodies are back where we left them. We simply need to reconnect to this world, and we are as good as new, although with a new body, because the old one decomposes…”

“And if I die? Are heaven and hell real for us?”

Jorgen became ominously quiet. “Yes,” he said, after an uncomfortably long pause, “but not in the way you have been told. But that is not of concern to us at this moment. The point is, if you die, it's all over. No resurrection for you.”

“So the immortality you spoke of is out of reach…” I was disheartened to hear that. “And here I thought you were going to offer me more than some absurd objective.”

“Even though you cannot be immortal, I can offer you the next best thing: being an ‘Untaimed’.”

“Go on.” I was curious.

“Spelt with AI in the middle, for appropriate reasons, you can be one of those above the system. And when I say system, I am not talking about the government or the rule of man,” Jorgen came closer for dramatic effect, “I am talking about the rule of God.” Jorgen stepped back and swiftly added, “At least that’s how you will see us immortals and the one who created this world."

I considered what I just heard. It was a very tempting offer. “And if this plan fails?” I asked apprehensively. “If nothing happens to me and I’m sitting there realising this whole thing was a elaborate charade.”

“If this fails, I promise that I shall be gone from your life.”

“All right, then.” I was morbidly curious to see if this madman was indeed telling the truth.

“Excellent. Now, which is your dominant leg?”

“My right. Why?”

Jorgen took out a box containing bandages and other medical supplies. I began to feel uneasy at the thought of the operation.

“Don’t worry,” he said “I AM a doctor.”

After he was done with bandaging my uninjured leg, for whatever reason, he took me back to my home. I used a crutch to limp all the way back to my place (which, thankfully, was not too far). I used the back-alleys so that I, a mob boss, wouldn’t be spotted and apprehended in this state. Jorgen asked if I had any issues with motion sickness, to which I said ‘no’. I got a bad feeling from the way in which he asked the question.

Then it happened...