Grace Reed sat at her elegant writing desk, gazing thoughtfully out at the sprawling Manhattan skyline. Her apartment, tastefully decorated and filled with books, awards, and memories of her success, was the culmination of a life dedicated to storytelling. Her novels, renowned for their profound exploration of family dynamics, loss, and human connection, resonated deeply with countless readers around the world. Although she had chosen to remain unmarried and childless, Grace found fulfillment in her art, her independence, and her carefully cultivated relationships.
Her time at the prestigious Columbia University had been transformative. Grace thrived academically and socially, quickly establishing herself as a talented and ambitious student. Her professors admired her insightful writing and keen observations of human nature, predicting early on that she would have an illustrious literary career. College friendships, vibrant and meaningful, remained steadfast long after graduation, supporting her through the intense pressures and loneliness that sometimes accompanied creative work.
Grace's personal relationships, though intentionally kept uncomplicated, were rich and rewarding. She maintained close bonds with a small circle of trusted friends, often gathering at cozy cafes or hosting intimate dinner parties where conversation flowed effortlessly. Romantic relationships came and went, each contributing to her emotional growth, but none ever diverted her from her true passion: her writing. Grace cherished the emotional independence that allowed her to delve deeply into her art without distraction.
Her career flourished spectacularly. Grace's novels consistently topped bestseller lists, earning her accolades and invitations to prestigious literary events. Book tours, readings, interviews, and constant correspondence with publishers consumed her days, leaving little time for reflection or rest. Her calendar was perpetually packed, a whirlwind of public appearances, signings, and deadlines, leaving her father and hometown far behind. She stayed connected with him through frequent, heartfelt virtual calls, always promising to visit soon, a promise continually postponed due to her relentless schedule.
Everything changed suddenly with the news of her father's passing. At 45, Grace returned to her quaint hometown, grief-stricken yet comforted by familiar surroundings and old friends. Standing at her father's graveside, she felt the warmth of community support. Friends she hadn't seen in years offered genuine embraces, expressing heartfelt condolences. Familiar faces recounted fond memories of her father, speaking kindly about how much he had missed her. Yet despite the comfort, something felt off, slightly surreal. Her attention drifted to her mother's grave, where the engraved date seemed inexplicably incorrect, stating her mother died when Grace was 17, not 35 as she vividly remembered. Confusion mingled with unease as friends politely shrugged off her concerns, gently changing the subject and quickly dispersing into hushed conversations.
Anxiously, Grace hurried back to her childhood home, desperately seeking comfort in its familiarity. The front door creaked open with a nostalgic groan, and she stepped into the living room, her heart racing. The television was inexplicably on, showing a grainy image of her father, older and frailer than she ever recalled. His eyes were heavy with sorrow, his voice quivering as he addressed her directly.
"Grace," he began softly, "there's something you must know, something I couldn't bear to tell you."
Grace sank onto the nearby chair, her legs trembling. Her father explained the devastating truth: she had taken her own life at 17, shortly after losing her mother. Grief-stricken but determined to preserve her memory, he quietly undertook a hidden project at the tech company he worked for, meticulously crafting a flawless artificial reality. Embedding Grace's personality, memories, and aspirations into a sophisticated AI simulation became his secret mission, carefully concealed from everyone. Her adulthood, college experiences, literary success, friendships, and relationships were meticulously engineered, each detail painstakingly created to be indistinguishable from reality. After retirement, he continued accessing the company's resources covertly, ensuring the simulation remained active.
Overwhelmed, Grace stood abruptly and staggered outside, desperate to clear her head. The once familiar landscape now appeared unsettlingly distorted. The skies seemed oddly tinted, and horizons blurred with flickering static. The reality she knew was crumbling, terrifyingly unreal. Breathless and frightened, she rushed back inside.
Her father's image continued gently, his eyes brimming with tears, his voice breaking with profound sorrow. "With my passing, Grace, there's nobody left to maintain the simulation. I'm so deeply sorry, my darling girl. I only wanted to give you the life you deserved. To see you happy, fulfilled. I love you more than words could ever say." Behind him, a digital timer appeared on the screen, counting down the remaining 18 hours. His voice softened further as he continued, "If it's too painful to wait, there's a music box waiting for you on the coffee table."
The screen flickered again, shifting scenes to Grace's joyous 16th birthday party, genuine footage from her actual life before tragedy struck. Her parents, vibrant and alive, celebrated enthusiastically with laughter, warmth, and affectionate hugs. Overwhelmed by grief and nostalgia, Grace moved slowly to the coffee table and carefully picked up the delicate music box. She opened it gently, and immediately, it began softly playing "What The World Needs Now Is Love," a melody hauntingly familiar. She carefully opened the box, revealing inside a simple red button labeled tenderly, "I love you."
Her time at the prestigious Columbia University had been transformative. Grace thrived academically and socially, quickly establishing herself as a talented and ambitious student. Her professors admired her insightful writing and keen observations of human nature, predicting early on that she would have an illustrious literary career. College friendships, vibrant and meaningful, remained steadfast long after graduation, supporting her through the intense pressures and loneliness that sometimes accompanied creative work.
Grace's personal relationships, though intentionally kept uncomplicated, were rich and rewarding. She maintained close bonds with a small circle of trusted friends, often gathering at cozy cafes or hosting intimate dinner parties where conversation flowed effortlessly. Romantic relationships came and went, each contributing to her emotional growth, but none ever diverted her from her true passion: her writing. Grace cherished the emotional independence that allowed her to delve deeply into her art without distraction.
Her career flourished spectacularly. Grace's novels consistently topped bestseller lists, earning her accolades and invitations to prestigious literary events. Book tours, readings, interviews, and constant correspondence with publishers consumed her days, leaving little time for reflection or rest. Her calendar was perpetually packed, a whirlwind of public appearances, signings, and deadlines, leaving her father and hometown far behind. She stayed connected with him through frequent, heartfelt virtual calls, always promising to visit soon, a promise continually postponed due to her relentless schedule.
Everything changed suddenly with the news of her father's passing. At 45, Grace returned to her quaint hometown, grief-stricken yet comforted by familiar surroundings and old friends. Standing at her father's graveside, she felt the warmth of community support. Friends she hadn't seen in years offered genuine embraces, expressing heartfelt condolences. Familiar faces recounted fond memories of her father, speaking kindly about how much he had missed her. Yet despite the comfort, something felt off, slightly surreal. Her attention drifted to her mother's grave, where the engraved date seemed inexplicably incorrect, stating her mother died when Grace was 17, not 35 as she vividly remembered. Confusion mingled with unease as friends politely shrugged off her concerns, gently changing the subject and quickly dispersing into hushed conversations.
Anxiously, Grace hurried back to her childhood home, desperately seeking comfort in its familiarity. The front door creaked open with a nostalgic groan, and she stepped into the living room, her heart racing. The television was inexplicably on, showing a grainy image of her father, older and frailer than she ever recalled. His eyes were heavy with sorrow, his voice quivering as he addressed her directly.
"Grace," he began softly, "there's something you must know, something I couldn't bear to tell you."
Grace sank onto the nearby chair, her legs trembling. Her father explained the devastating truth: she had taken her own life at 17, shortly after losing her mother. Grief-stricken but determined to preserve her memory, he quietly undertook a hidden project at the tech company he worked for, meticulously crafting a flawless artificial reality. Embedding Grace's personality, memories, and aspirations into a sophisticated AI simulation became his secret mission, carefully concealed from everyone. Her adulthood, college experiences, literary success, friendships, and relationships were meticulously engineered, each detail painstakingly created to be indistinguishable from reality. After retirement, he continued accessing the company's resources covertly, ensuring the simulation remained active.
Overwhelmed, Grace stood abruptly and staggered outside, desperate to clear her head. The once familiar landscape now appeared unsettlingly distorted. The skies seemed oddly tinted, and horizons blurred with flickering static. The reality she knew was crumbling, terrifyingly unreal. Breathless and frightened, she rushed back inside.
Her father's image continued gently, his eyes brimming with tears, his voice breaking with profound sorrow. "With my passing, Grace, there's nobody left to maintain the simulation. I'm so deeply sorry, my darling girl. I only wanted to give you the life you deserved. To see you happy, fulfilled. I love you more than words could ever say." Behind him, a digital timer appeared on the screen, counting down the remaining 18 hours. His voice softened further as he continued, "If it's too painful to wait, there's a music box waiting for you on the coffee table."
The screen flickered again, shifting scenes to Grace's joyous 16th birthday party, genuine footage from her actual life before tragedy struck. Her parents, vibrant and alive, celebrated enthusiastically with laughter, warmth, and affectionate hugs. Overwhelmed by grief and nostalgia, Grace moved slowly to the coffee table and carefully picked up the delicate music box. She opened it gently, and immediately, it began softly playing "What The World Needs Now Is Love," a melody hauntingly familiar. She carefully opened the box, revealing inside a simple red button labeled tenderly, "I love you."
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