Chapter Text
Michael knew that Jeremy wasn't avoiding him on purpose. Girlfriends just... took up a lot of time. A lot of time. Like, all of it. They've hung out once, maybe twice, in the past two months. It wasn't as terrible as he thought it would be, though, because of his new-found second-best friend.
Richard Goranski wasn't at all what he was like with the SQUIP. With the SQUIP, he was, well- an asshole. He was a bully, a smart-ass, sarcastic but in the worst way possible. It was honestly hard to believe, that Rich and the Rich in his basement were the same person. Rich, the real, unfiltered Rich, was funny, and kind, and a major dork but in the best way. In a weird way, Michael could both understand why people used to pick on him, and also not understand it. And he did it, Michael would pick on Rich, but Rich just laughed and picked on Michael right back. It was a friend thing. He and Jeremy used to do it all the time, before Christine.
They sat in the basement, awake at ungodly hours of the day, some lame comedian talking on the TV. They weren't listening, anyway. It was a Thursday – well, late Thursday night and early Friday morning – and they were playing some board game.
"I don't even know how to play Life," Rich eventually pointed out, moving his car along the board.
"I mean, considering that we're playing Monopoly, I don't think it really matters."
There was a brief moment of silence, before both of them laughed. They weren't playing Monopoly. Or Life. They were playing Matchbox, without even looking at the directions, and neither of them actually knew the rules. Essentially, they were just aimlessly racing their cars around the track.
"When you think about it, though, Life is a sad game," Michael threw in. Rich gave him a look of confusion, and Michael explained himself. "You're basically just faking a life. And you can make your life all perfect, and have the perfect husband – or wife – and as many kids as you want, and the perfect job."
Then, Rich got it. "Man, I wish the real life was that easy."
They were both quiet, thinking about the game of Life versus the real life, before Rich suddenly flew up in his seat. Michael almost jumped, surprised attention locked on the smaller boy once again.
"What if it is, though? Have you heard of the simulation theory?"
Michael raised an eyebrow. "The what?"
Rich launched into a lengthy explanation, talking about the theory where, apparently, the world was just a simulation. He had some 'proof,' but Michael wasn't following very well. Michael never had believed in things like that – but Rich most definitely did. All the time, Rich would call him telling him about some new theory that he heard, about some new celebrity that he knew had to be a reptile that worked for the government. If Michael was being honest, it was kind of cute. Rich always got so excited when talking about that type of stuff, and he had this sparkle in his eye, and he just knew so much about all of it that he had to be doing research on his own. Michael kind of zoned out, just watching Rich talk.
"–And," he was saying, "some of the smartest people in the world believe in it! I mean, I guess that doesn't really mean anything, but it just points more towards the truth category, right? If super smart people are believing it, it's gotta count for something. And! Get this! Michael, how many times have you walked into a room to do something, and then just immediately forget what you're doing?"
Michael blinked, "Uh, a lot?"
Rich grinned, clapping his hands together. "Exactly! What if that's just someone, the person playing the simulator, cancelling your action? Like, imagine; it's like the Sims. You've played the Sims, everyone's played the Sims. You know how sometimes you accidentally have a Sim do something? Like, I don't know, you accidentally tell the Sim to go wash dishes or something. What do you do afterwards? Cancel the action. They get to the kitchen, stand there for a moment, then they just go back and sit on the couch. Michael! What if, every time we log into the Sims, we're taking control of actual people?"
"That's.. kind of fucked up." Michael managed.
"Yeah! But it's so fucked up that it's cool."
"Okay, alright. Question." Michael started. Rich seemed excited to be able to answer it. "If all this really is being controlled by a person, how much of this is real? Are you really explaining this to me, or is it the, uh.. the guy playing the game?"
That seemed to just blow Rich's mind. He clearly hadn't been thinking that far. "You might have cracked the code."
"What?"
"What's the purpose of life if we're just being controlled?"
Michael actually laughed at that. "Rich, we don't know for sure that's what's happening. I know you have all that evidence, but I don't believe it."
"Hypothetically," Rich added on with a grin, only seeming half-serious about the matter, now. "What would be the meaning of life, if we really were being controlled?"
There was a burst of silence between the two of them, both of them thinking up answers to the question. On one hand, Michael thought the question was ridiculous. But, on the other...
"Aren't we actually being controlled, though? Adults practically run the universe. We can't do anything without their approval," Michael threw out.
Rich nodded his head. "Yeah, for real."
"I guess," Michael shrugged, "that just means that youth isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"Maybe it will be? In time?"
"What time? Rich, we're seventeen. We only have a year left until we're legal adults."
Then, Rich got that mischievous smile on his face. The one that Michael sometimes found comforting, the one that he sometimes found worrying. "Then we have a year to prove that being teenagers doesn't have to be as shitty as it's been so far."
Michael knew he was in for a wild ride.