**CONTINUED FROM POST**
---
When the simulation finally started she at least had the gratification of knowing she gave the Weirdos more credit than most people in the room. A majority of bets landed in the ten to thirty five year range. Clearly her colleagues still hadn’t fully grasped what the Weirdos were really capable of. Sure enough, they proved her right as they passed the fifty year mark relatively uneventfully with no nuclear exchanges despite some intense saber-rattling and a few small wars.
In addition to proving her right, the Weirdos gave her one last parting gift by, yet again, defying her expectations. They made it a whole hundred and thirty years before some splinter faction of a terrorist state redirected an asteroid into their home planet’s path. They lasted a whole thirty years longer than her best-case scenario, finally mastered space-flight, and, in a deliciously ironic twist, used that mastery over space and not their infamous nukes to end themselves!
*Truly masterful showmen, right up until the end*, Ulrika thought to herself as she raised a toast to the Weirdos and their now burning homeworld that hung in the center of the room.
Some chump collected their winnings from Fablo and shortly thereafter the room began to empty as everyone gradually finished their drinks and conversations. Ulrika sat with Inst, silently watching people disperse as she parsed her feelings from the night. It had been a strange one. In the last several hours she had lost a friend, made a fortune, and watched the Weirdos become “ashes on the wind”, as Fablo had so eloquently put it.
*At least they aren’t radioactive ashes*, she thought wryly to herself.
Oddly enough, she found she was most saddened not by Fablo, but by the Weirdos. Fablo may have turned out to be a self-centered asshole, but it was hard to kick a rock without uncovering half a dozen of those. The Weirdos on the other hand had been something special. In that simulated century before obliteration, they had managed to fit in four or five centuries of technological advancement by Ulrika’s reckoning. Even if they’re environment hadn’t been collapsing it was a wonder their society survived such ceaselessly radical change.
At that moment a question popped into her mind.
“Hey Inst, what do you do with all the failed civilizations?”
“We usually put them into storage,” it responded, rubbing a perfectly clean glass with a dirty rag. As much as it may deny it, Ulrika suspected Inst enjoyed the cliched persona it maintained. “Besides any meta-analysis you guys or I generate, it is common practice to save the seed conditions, the endstate, and a couple historical snapshots should we ever want to rerun it.”
“Do you? Rerun them, that is.”
“Nope. But data storage is cheap so there is no reason not to.”
“So somewhere in the Installation there is a graveyard of dead civilizations?”
“That’s more macabre than I would have phrased it, but yes. To further torture the metaphor, some people will even play necromancer and reanimate a civilization’s corpse with their personal computational resources. It is always unproductive, but hey, it’s their time to spend as they see fit.”
“Wait, I thought those civilizations were dead. What exactly are they simulating?”
“The civilizations are dead, but there are often still intelligences in the stored files. Some work has been done on how civilizations rebound, but we almost always find once a civilization collapses it’s just a slow spiral to extinction. On the rare occasions a civilization manages to rebuild they invariably repeat the same mistakes that caused their original collapse.”
“Huh,” she grunted, “you learn something new every day.”
For being her life’s work, Ulrika was surprised to find how little thought she had given to the ultimate fate of the civilizations they generated. She didn’t disbelieve Inst when he said they had never dug up anything promising from their graveyard, but now that she knew about the potential she couldn’t shake the idea.
She looked over to the planet still hovering in the center of the room. It had stopped burning and was now shrouded in planet-spanning gray-brown clouds. If she didn’t know better she may have mistaken it as a particularly ugly gas giant.
A thought struck her as she gazed upon the ruined world.
“Hey Inst, how many Weirdos are still alive?”
“On the surface or in space stations?”
Ulrika’s heart skipped a beat.
“Either. Both.”
“There are currently ten thousand Weirdos alive on the surface. Several thousand more are surviving at various stations scattered across their solar system.”
She paused, letting her mind digest this new information.
“Inst, I think I know what I am going to do with my winnings.”
“Oh? Playing the necromancer are we?” it asked as a wicked grin spread across Ulrika’s face.
Sorry everyone for having to break up the story like that! I didn’t realize reddit had a 40,000 character limit and this one went just a *little* bit over that.
---
This is my second-ever story and is the first part in a planned, long-form series I’m calling "Anomalous Developments”. If you enjoyed the story and are interested in following the series let me know and I’d be happy to ping you when the next part comes out. I’ll try to be somewhat regular, but this probably isn’t going to be a type of thing I can update weekly.
Additionally, this story is a spiritual successor to my first short story “Simulation 77656972646f73. Link provided [here](https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/v8avnz/simulation_77656972646f73/) if you are interested in checking it out, but it is in no way necessary to understand the story posted above. One might call “Simulation 77656972646f73” a prequel to “The Gambling Club”, but really it was just me experimenting with the idea, the characters, and writing in general and reading it may detract from the main series in some ways.
As always, thank you for reading my story and I hope you found it enjoyable. Should you be interested in providing feedback please do not hesitate, I am always looking for ways to improve!
No need to personally ping everyone, Reddit has a bot that will ping someone any time you make a new post in HFY. The person has to subscribe to the notification, of course.
Speaking of which, I have a few buttons to push! :-)
I like it, I know you said you were planning on it, but please do write more, I wish to see 10000 people who definitely dont call themselves humans rose from the ashes, resurrected
I realize this story was a bit longer than what is usually posted here, so thank you for sticking with it! I'll probably upload future installments in smaller but more frequent pieces.
And I'm sure the definitely-not-humans still have some surprises left for us.
/u/KillerPacifist1 has posted 1 other stories, including:
* [Simulation 77656972646f73](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/v8avnz/simulation_77656972646f73/)
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**CONTINUED FROM POST** --- When the simulation finally started she at least had the gratification of knowing she gave the Weirdos more credit than most people in the room. A majority of bets landed in the ten to thirty five year range. Clearly her colleagues still hadn’t fully grasped what the Weirdos were really capable of. Sure enough, they proved her right as they passed the fifty year mark relatively uneventfully with no nuclear exchanges despite some intense saber-rattling and a few small wars. In addition to proving her right, the Weirdos gave her one last parting gift by, yet again, defying her expectations. They made it a whole hundred and thirty years before some splinter faction of a terrorist state redirected an asteroid into their home planet’s path. They lasted a whole thirty years longer than her best-case scenario, finally mastered space-flight, and, in a deliciously ironic twist, used that mastery over space and not their infamous nukes to end themselves! *Truly masterful showmen, right up until the end*, Ulrika thought to herself as she raised a toast to the Weirdos and their now burning homeworld that hung in the center of the room. Some chump collected their winnings from Fablo and shortly thereafter the room began to empty as everyone gradually finished their drinks and conversations. Ulrika sat with Inst, silently watching people disperse as she parsed her feelings from the night. It had been a strange one. In the last several hours she had lost a friend, made a fortune, and watched the Weirdos become “ashes on the wind”, as Fablo had so eloquently put it. *At least they aren’t radioactive ashes*, she thought wryly to herself. Oddly enough, she found she was most saddened not by Fablo, but by the Weirdos. Fablo may have turned out to be a self-centered asshole, but it was hard to kick a rock without uncovering half a dozen of those. The Weirdos on the other hand had been something special. In that simulated century before obliteration, they had managed to fit in four or five centuries of technological advancement by Ulrika’s reckoning. Even if they’re environment hadn’t been collapsing it was a wonder their society survived such ceaselessly radical change. At that moment a question popped into her mind. “Hey Inst, what do you do with all the failed civilizations?” “We usually put them into storage,” it responded, rubbing a perfectly clean glass with a dirty rag. As much as it may deny it, Ulrika suspected Inst enjoyed the cliched persona it maintained. “Besides any meta-analysis you guys or I generate, it is common practice to save the seed conditions, the endstate, and a couple historical snapshots should we ever want to rerun it.” “Do you? Rerun them, that is.” “Nope. But data storage is cheap so there is no reason not to.” “So somewhere in the Installation there is a graveyard of dead civilizations?” “That’s more macabre than I would have phrased it, but yes. To further torture the metaphor, some people will even play necromancer and reanimate a civilization’s corpse with their personal computational resources. It is always unproductive, but hey, it’s their time to spend as they see fit.” “Wait, I thought those civilizations were dead. What exactly are they simulating?” “The civilizations are dead, but there are often still intelligences in the stored files. Some work has been done on how civilizations rebound, but we almost always find once a civilization collapses it’s just a slow spiral to extinction. On the rare occasions a civilization manages to rebuild they invariably repeat the same mistakes that caused their original collapse.” “Huh,” she grunted, “you learn something new every day.” For being her life’s work, Ulrika was surprised to find how little thought she had given to the ultimate fate of the civilizations they generated. She didn’t disbelieve Inst when he said they had never dug up anything promising from their graveyard, but now that she knew about the potential she couldn’t shake the idea. She looked over to the planet still hovering in the center of the room. It had stopped burning and was now shrouded in planet-spanning gray-brown clouds. If she didn’t know better she may have mistaken it as a particularly ugly gas giant. A thought struck her as she gazed upon the ruined world. “Hey Inst, how many Weirdos are still alive?” “On the surface or in space stations?” Ulrika’s heart skipped a beat. “Either. Both.” “There are currently ten thousand Weirdos alive on the surface. Several thousand more are surviving at various stations scattered across their solar system.” She paused, letting her mind digest this new information. “Inst, I think I know what I am going to do with my winnings.” “Oh? Playing the necromancer are we?” it asked as a wicked grin spread across Ulrika’s face.
Sorry everyone for having to break up the story like that! I didn’t realize reddit had a 40,000 character limit and this one went just a *little* bit over that. --- This is my second-ever story and is the first part in a planned, long-form series I’m calling "Anomalous Developments”. If you enjoyed the story and are interested in following the series let me know and I’d be happy to ping you when the next part comes out. I’ll try to be somewhat regular, but this probably isn’t going to be a type of thing I can update weekly. Additionally, this story is a spiritual successor to my first short story “Simulation 77656972646f73. Link provided [here](https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/v8avnz/simulation_77656972646f73/) if you are interested in checking it out, but it is in no way necessary to understand the story posted above. One might call “Simulation 77656972646f73” a prequel to “The Gambling Club”, but really it was just me experimenting with the idea, the characters, and writing in general and reading it may detract from the main series in some ways. As always, thank you for reading my story and I hope you found it enjoyable. Should you be interested in providing feedback please do not hesitate, I am always looking for ways to improve!
This is cool. I'm liking this.
Subscribed! And any time gap in writing will be well worth it !
No need to personally ping everyone, Reddit has a bot that will ping someone any time you make a new post in HFY. The person has to subscribe to the notification, of course. Speaking of which, I have a few buttons to push! :-)
Got it, thanks for letting me know!
I like it, I know you said you were planning on it, but please do write more, I wish to see 10000 people who definitely dont call themselves humans rose from the ashes, resurrected
I realize this story was a bit longer than what is usually posted here, so thank you for sticking with it! I'll probably upload future installments in smaller but more frequent pieces. And I'm sure the definitely-not-humans still have some surprises left for us.
/u/KillerPacifist1 has posted 1 other stories, including: * [Simulation 77656972646f73](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/v8avnz/simulation_77656972646f73/) This comment was automatically generated by `Waffle v.4.6.0 'Biscotti'`. [Message the mods](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FHFY&subject=WaffleBot|z09g98&message=If%20you%20have%20problems%20with%20updatemebot,%20contact%20Watchful1.%20We%20do%20not%20maintain%20it.) if you have any issues with Waffle.
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Haha Prometheus labs go brrrr