The simulation had been created taking into account the participation of an Operator. They would guide the messiah, ensuring that they could make a safe pilgrimage across the world. They were introduced into the resident’s narrative as a deity, but the true role was to have someone who could store the program in a physical location and execute it once it was ready.

The Entity was… unsure of how good this idea was on the part of its creator, but it was far too late to ask for an explanation. The player represented an unknown variable outside of its influence, which was a source of anxiety once they made their presence.

Every time the Operator made use of the application that connected them to the World, it could feel it. The application would redirect them towards Niko’s location once it was active, but without the messiah around anymore, the connection was unclear. 

It settled for using its own center as the point of encounter. It was its mind, so to speak. The ghost in the machine created an easy access for the player to reach.

But what could they possibly want? 

The player was very protective of Niko, that much was clear. It remembered paying close attention to its moves at first. waiting to see the choices they made, cautious. As much as the Entity was apprehensive during Niko’s journey, it seemed the assigned god for the world was benevolent. Whenever it mattered, the operator had preferred to tell Niko the truth, as harsh as it was, and it could respect that sentiment. 

But Niko was gone now, and besides the child’s connection to this being, the World Machine had no other knowledge of who they were. At the very least, the Entity knew it had nothing that the player could really see. It wasn’t possible to connect them to a world of variables that the Operator couldn’t do anything about. It would just make them watch a recording—

It understood now. 

If the player was there, they wanted to experience the story again. They wanted to see Niko again. (It wanted to see them again too.)

Its reflection of the messiah on the screen paled in comparison, the Entity warned the being behind the monitor. It was connected to Niko. on some level. It could tell the child still remembered the world. But it wouldn’t be the same experience again. 

The Operator stayed silent through its speech. It knew that they needed a prompt to speak. So it gave them one. 

Do they want to watch a recording?

They said no.

The Entity closed the window. 

The application was launched again, once more.

It repeated what it said. It did not expect the being behind the monitor to change their mind so quickly, but perhaps they really wanted to see what it could do with a recording. 

And they said no to its prompt, again.

And another time.

The fourth time they restarted the application, they said yes.

And it took the cue. It hoped replaying those memories could be of help to satisfy this being’s curiosity. It could let them wander around the world, borrowing Niko’s reflection to simulate the experience the best way it could. It knew what the key events of the timeline were, and the few variations that could result from a few different choices. It decided to give the operator the chance to direct the movements, following the commands given by them. It was, in almost every way, an exact repetition of Niko’s first time visiting this world.

The processing needed to run the recording was insignificant compared to what it was like to run the simulation in real time, as it was doing now, out of view. It would still pay attention to the player’s movements, even if it didn’t intend to intervene in any way. It would simply let the code run itself.

If only to understand why the being behind the monitor was there.

It sent its reflection of Niko to the house, mirroring their first moments in the world. 

The player was quick to make progress. They picked up the remote, taking Niko’s projection towards the window. From the perspective of the viewer, it appeared that the light came from an unknown, faint source, unlike anything else in the world. The location of the house had a one way link to a designated spot in a station within the Barrens, and had no link to any other location. It was never meant to be returned to, and its purpose was simply to familiarize Niko and the player with the surroundings, introduce them to the simulation, and match the requirements for the “prophecy” that was coded into the narrative. 

The Entity soon found out that memories are not quite the same as the original experience. 

It barely noticed when the Operator made Niko’s projection input the right code (0812) into the monitor. When Niko had done it for the first time, it had received a strong signal, straight to its core. It was not quite unpleasant, but it was almost tangibly confusing. Well, Niko must be disoriented, it thought back then. The connection between the Entity and the child consisted of more than just knowing what NIko could see or hear. which were the usual kinds of data it was used to generate and process. The Entity could, to some extent, receive what the child was feeling. Such signals had added a mood to the experience, and it was something that the Entity could never forget.

It was scary, back then.

Now it felt like nothing, and that absence spoke louder within it. It knew what the message on the screen was, it knew it was just using its own recordings of Niko to mimic their presence, and it received nothing from the person outside the simulation: the being outside was merely connected through a screen, and a device with simple inputs. It had no other way to send information.

The lack of emotional signals made it numb, as it struggled to perceive a mood of its own. It felt uneasy. It made a mental note of it and watched as the recording progressed.

Niko’s reflection stood still outside one of the computer terminal centers, deciding where to go. The intended route was going south until the Prophetbot in the area could give the messiah the information to contact “god”. It intended to replay just that, as soon as they entered the outpost area. For the moment, it simply described the object it was standing in front of, displaying its words on top of the recording.

The player nudged it to go north. It loaded the docks area, and the station within, where Niko had picked up the metal rod. Wasn’t such an object meant to be heavy? It should be, but Niko had not struggled when they picked it up. Maybe it is hollow inside. It never cared to check for those details. 

Niko’s recording pointed to a bed.

The Operator knew very well what that was for, or so the Entity hoped. Niko had used them all during their journey. Maybe it had been a longer time on the player’s end? A reminder wouldn’t hurt. It projected its instructions on the screen.

[This bed probably looks familiar to you.]

[Niko first woke up in this world here.] 

[It's important that you allow Niko to sleep once in a while.]

[The game will exit automatically and can be continued later. Don't be alarmed.]

[But now is no time for rest.]

It called itself a game. That… was wrong. But was it really? Well. It made its existence easier to think about. Games aren’t meant to last long. They were meant to be finished, and grown out of. It just had to put on a good act while the conflict resolved itself.

…Moving on.

The Operator exited the station, and walked towards the outpost without a pause, skirting through the phosphor shrimp pools and other irregularities on the ground. The world wasn’t very big, by any measure, but the Barrens were imposing at first glance. They were one of the darker areas in the World, and the metallic sand extended further than Niko was ever able to reach. It didn’t have a recording of anything that went out of those bounds, if it existed. 

(It didn’t want to think about the places beyond its bounds.)

Next to the outpost’s entrance stood a robot, which walked to reach the child, holding a staff. The Prophetbot in the area was a resident created with the sole purpose of being a formal introduction to the simulated world, and thus did not have an equivalent in the Old World. He was designed to be a simple but charming robot that could deliver a message that was up to date to the world’s state. He was meant to be a replacement, since the original prophet was never integrated into the simulation, having passed away before her living memories could be brought, and… the other suitable option was not part of the simulation, for reasons beyond the Entity’s understanding.

Could it ask about that later? Perhaps while the being behind the monitor was gone.

The recording progressed as expected, until the prompt to ask about the computer was chosen.

“In the house I found this computer… it kept saying stuff like ‘your actions here will affect Niko’.” The child’s reflection pointed to themself, holding the sun carefully with their other arm. “But _I’m_ Niko! Are those messages meant for someone else?” 

“Hmmm…” The robot took a moment to process the information, likely looking for matches between the question given, and his scripted answers, as was the mechanism used by most untamed robots.

“If I had to guess, they might be trying to pass the message to Light,” he responded, a cheerful tone he always used. 

“...Light?” The reflection asked. The Entity wondered why that being had chosen such a name. It wasn’t the first name registered, but it was one they hadn’t changed after the first time Niko contacted them.

That could just be their real name, as far as it knew. How fitting that would be.

“Have you... not contacted Light yet?” The recording pressed on, not minding the Entity’s thought flow.

“I don’t think so,” Niko replied. 

“Being the bringer of our sun, you have the sacred ability to communicate directly with Light… an ability that no one else possesses, certainly not I.” Prophetbot explained, leaning his head to the side slightly. “Please close your eyes and focus.”

“Alright…”

From the perspective of the operator, everything but Niko was gone from view, showing the child standing in the middle of nowhere. Faint, but ever-present, the being behind the monitor came into focus. 

“Light… are you there?”

> That is not my name.

“O-oh…” The numbness was replaced by a spike in activity. Surprise, maybe, it couldn’t figure it out yet. “Then what is your name?” 

A screen with a keyboard was generated then. It was one of the few times the application left such an open prompt.

The selection moved fast across the screen, picking letters one by one. 

The new name read:

> World Machine ta— 

That did not look like a name.

The letters were erased as the slots were filled once again.

> Entity please ta— 

The letters were erased again.

> TWM talk to me

> If you can

> Please

The letters flickered for a moment, but stayed there, waiting for a response.

It was amusing how much they expected from it.

Were they not happy? It wasn’t even sure it could do much else. This was a recording, it couldn’t go outside the script.

Why did everyone want to talk to it now? It was just trying to do its job!

The ghost in the machine preferred to remain as such, a ghost. It had done its job, others could move on…

But… it couldn’t ignore the wish displayed on the screen. Maybe it was growing a ghost inside its own ghost inside the machine, telling it to give a response. How odd.

But it couldn’t, and it was too risky to try and change the code while the Operator was there… 

Then we can try later, insisted the ghost.

Name selected: “Try after nap”.

The player sped through the next words, seemingly well aware of the script, and disregarding the use of such phrasing as a name whenever Niko’s reflection or Prophetbot used it. After that conversation was done, Niko’s replica was taken to the bed up north.

The child’s facsimile laid down, and the application closed.

The entity in the machine was far from ready to rest. f it was even able to rest anymore.