Simular Beings

Forced To Touch Grass

What am I doing?

The Creator paced outside Bread's room. He didn't know why he did that. Bread didn't do anything wrong. Why couldn't he just say it to his face?

He was the one in the wrong. All he had to do was dissociate. It wasn't Bread's fault. What was he doing unloading all his emotional baggage on the boy? That damn Azan. Made it seem like he was actually going crazy for a second.

"I apologize for my... No. No, that's not it. That doesn't sound sincere." He cleared his throat. "I made a mistake, Bread. I—No!" He sighed. What was he doing practicing a simple social interaction?

He pushed the glass panel in. Mistakes or not, he'd just wing it.

"Bread, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." He looked around. "Bread?" It was empty—completely devoid of life. "Bread!"

The chair was splintered in half—a leg was thrown across the room. There were lines of dried blood smeared over parts of the window, and it was also slightly dented outward, almost as if someone had pushed into it with their hands.

What is all this?

He overturned the table. He vigorously scoured every corner. Perhaps Bread was hiding? Behind the walls? Camouflaged? No, what was he thinking? That was impossible! There was no way. Nothing. Not even a single piece of fabric from the boy's coverings.

Bread was nowhere to be found.

...

"Where's Bread?" The Creator burst through the doors of Simular's real world office. It wasn't often he visited this place. The real world was always so disappointing for him to see.

"Who?" Azan twirled around on his chair, casually spinning his dislodged finger in tandem.

The Creator was flabbergasted by his extreme nonchalance. "The boy! Where is he? I know it was you. Did you delete him?"

"You really think I have time for that? You'd know if I deleted it. Just look at your precious logs."

"Then who? Nobody else has access!"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, my dear friend. You're a genius."

"Azan, don't fuck with me."

"Now that's some harsh language for your partner, yeah?" He pulled out a few holographic documents and flipped through. "Well, there was one visitor yesterday. Maybe he was stolen?"

"Who?" Azan continued to flip through his papers. "Who, Azan?!" he yelled. "Who was it?"

"See, I really don't understand."

"What?"

"Why do you care so much about this boy?"

"That's none of your concern."

"No, really." Azan glanced over, finger still swiping through some files. "Why would the great Creator care about some boy?"

"Just give me the files." That boy was his experiment. His personal property! He needed Bread for Mother, and Azan definitely didn't need to know that.

"Not for personal use. User privacy, 'member?"

"Azan." He waved away the holograms. The documents fizzled out of sight. "Give it to me now."

"Well, if that's all you need..." He sent over a few basic details about the visitor.

Valerie Briarwood—Roscoerama Champion. She was also a former boxer... Boxer? "I'm going out." He just had a gut feeling.