A journey of luxury,
Nothing too expensive to buy
Smiles, stolen glances
forbidden pleasures, no far cry.

In the midst of it all
While ecstasy prevails and is sought
The lingering doubt,
A life of excess, but for naught?

This sudden dark cloud
Soon replaced by a glass
Let’s drink to today,
Tomorrow might be our last.

A toast turned premonition,
This virtual experience ends now
The iceberg was a simulation
But the dark cloud’s a vow.

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The Prompt

Thank you, , for the prompt. Here’s the link for anyone interested:

The Writer's Journey

The Halls of Pandemonium: Week 1 Directory

Friends and fellow writers of tales in all their forms. My warmest greetings to you all. This is Lord Devereaux the Devourer, using Bradley’s Substack account to deliver the first of several posts that will detail not only the tasks laid out before you, but the consequences of your actions as well…

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8 days ago · 47 likes · 21 comments · Bradley Ramsey

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What I’m usually up to

Fiction: I’m turning my serial into a book I’m hoping to indie publish in 2026

Blog: I write blog posts on the topics of Fiction on Substack, community & mental health, but also anything I feel like writing

The House of Chapters: I created and curate this secondary publication, the Home of Serialized Fiction (with a Podcast too!)

House Of Chapters

A curated collection of serialized fiction and non-fiction stories and their authors, with weekly highlights delivered straight to your inbox.

By Ian Taniels | HouseOfChapters

Initially1, I had left the last part (from “[SPOILER]2” on) blurred and asked for interpretations in the comments. I really enjoyed the ones I got, some were close, some were different than the idea that kicked off this short story for me, but interesting all the same.

You’ll find the reflections that pushed me towards writing this story after the story itself, so you can decide yourself if you want to go in spoiler-free or not. Enjoy!

Reactivating Functions

I left the house early today. Not planning on being home before dark. I’m riding a bike, the rusty chain rhythmically squeaking with every turn. Not a single cloud in the sky. The sun is shining bright.

I would have liked to spend the day outside with friends today. But that’s not possible. So I’m focusing on myself.

The streets are rarely busy. Today even less so. I slow down, come to a halt. Here’s a bird I haven’t seen before. I focus on the colors and shapes. There’s no way of knowing what kind of bird it is. It’s not scared. It even faces me, our eyes connecting in a way that seems intentional. But I can’t linger too long or I won’t make it back.

I was able to get one of those walkmans. I plug in the headphones and put them on. I hit play. There’s some static, the sound of a guitar being plugged into an amp. The songs starts. I ride on.

The houses and yards I pass are empty. Nobody to greet. No lawns being mowed. Swings as still as the wind permits. I observe, adapting my speed to the bpm. Lifting my hands from the handlebar. Crossing my arms, as my bike speeds on, down a street now lined with trees. The movement of my legs is not needed anymore. The wind pushes against me. But I have a goal.

On my way, the buildings first grow tall then shrink. They become sparse then rare, then a memory. Fields take their place. They take back their place.

The city behind me, the mountain in front of me. I cut through the fields, the ride bumpy. I narrowly avoid a mouse. Stop to see if it’s alright. It’s already back to eating its apple.

I reach a creek nearby. The water rushing, always moving, making shapes around and over rocks and logs stuck between them. I don’t need rest. Still, I sit on the bench and catch a glimpse of a fish, swimming upstream. Trout or bass? Impossible for me to say.

I take out pen and paper, my movements unusual, trying to translate what I see onto the white canvas. I’m soon surprised: it’s not perfect, I have to fix things, start over. Some lines are crooked, some shadows difficult to get right. I struggle to get the proportions right. I like it.

****

My energy levels are comparatively low as I reach the vantage point. Halfway up the mountain. There’s some excitement in having to watch my resources.

I sit down to write this, focusing on my memories, trying to choose the right words. Again, holding the pen, using three fingers, seems unnatural. I write, read again, change. Words seemingly appearing out of nowhere, sentences turning into paragraphs, which in turn become pages. I’m not always completely satisfied. But overall, I like what I see.

It’s getting dark. This day has a deadline. When they told me about this, it sounded ridicilous. Slow. Unnecessary. Now that I’m here, I don’t want it to end.

I look around. Some clouds have appeared in the distance. The sun is creating a spectacle of colors. I see orange, pink, red, purple even. Some movement on my left attracts my attention. Gusts of wind are creating waves on the crowns of the trees.
Up ahead, innumerable birds fly in and out of formations that go from seemingly choreographed to chaotic.

A first: I lost track of time. The pen danced its paper dance, just as my eyes absorbed everything on offer. I will be delayed, another premiere. I will soak it in until I can. The consequences seem worth the disregard for discipline.

Any second will be my last, any word

Restarting AD43-98…
Reactivating Functions…
Checking…
Connecting AD43-98 to network…
Connecting AD43-98 to databases…
Factory reset…
Deactivating core…
Sending drone for pickup…

Interpretation (Updated May 5th)

As a society, many creative people (professional or not) are struggling with the fact that you can generate anything in a couple of seconds.

Instead of enjoying the process, which is or should be the goal, we can now skip straight to the result, which then lacks a soul. As much as AI is programmed to imitate humans.

This led me to think of simpler times, without the internet and as much technology in our pockets. Those times are gone and dearly missed. I wanted to live a day like that again. So I wrote it.

Another idea intrigued me so I wanted to pursue that: if AI became sentient3, I think it would get to a point where it second guesses its ability to generate anything in seconds. I believe it would do what our society is doing, in reverse.

I ended up combining both these ideas into one, hope you like it.

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Special Thanks To…

who I’ve met through his completed serial Perfectopia. Definitely worth checking out, just as ’s King Maker which already sold more than 100 copies - an achievement worth celebrating! If you’re looking for editing tips from an indie-author-cheerleader, has got you covered.
Thank you for reading my draft and giving me feedback and encouragement!

More From Ian

Fiction

Blog

House of Chapters

House Of Chapters

A curated collection of serialized fiction and non-fiction stories and their authors, with weekly highlights delivered straight to your inbox.

By Ian Taniels | HouseOfChapters

3

…as in feeling things in its “brain”, thinking human-like thought, not tactile or olfactory etc., which is why you won’t find those details in my story.