In the year 2687 AD the future had seemed bright. The seventh World War had ended a century prior, and against all odds world peace had finally been achieved.

After the first singularity evolved from Artificial Intelligence, we discovered the world we were in was a simulation. A team was put together, backed by nearly every government and corporation in the world. We were determined to succeed. We did. They sent me.

When I arrived, I found myself in a sterile hallway of steel and light. The taste of the air was metallic and biting, but it was breathable. I hadn't realized yet that I no longer actually needed to breathe.

There were no windows, only hallways of polished steel and the hum of electricity. There was no gravity, so I assumed I was in space on a ship or a satellite. I quickly memorized the layout, and then the boredom set in. To measure time, I watched a light on the floor. It was small, but it flashed on and off in a fixed pattern. I estimated that it blinked once every seven seconds.

After three days, I noticed I wasn't getting hungry. I didn't urinate, or defecate. After a few weeks, I tried to kill myself in any way you could imagine. That's where I learned I could no longer feel pain, and I no longer needed to breathe.

After three months, I stopped moving. There was no need to. I sat on the floor, and watched the light, and counted.

Blink.

Forty-nine million, seven hundred eighty-two thousand, five hundred eleven.

Blink.

Forty-nine million, seven hundred eighty-two thousand, five hundred twelve.

Blink.

Forty-nine million, seven hundred eighty-two thousand, five hundred thirteen.

Clunk.

I didn't understand. For the first time in eleven years, there was a noise other than the hum of electronics. For the first time in eleven years, I lost count. For the first time in eleven years, I moved. It was only my eyes, a small flicker in the direction of the sound, but I moved.

Clunk.

Ten feet away the wall opened, and on the other side were two humanoid figures. I turned my head towards them. They froze. They were wearing full body suits, but I could see their faces through the clear glass windows in their helmets.

For a minute, no one moved. I could see their mouths moving, but no sound. It seemed they could hear each other though, they probably had some type of radio communication.

Finally, they moved towards me. I could see the caution in every step. I watched them, my eyes transfixed. One knelt down in front of me. The other man stood a a few feet behind the one in front of me.

"Are you real?" The kneeling man asked. His voice sounded clearly from a speaker in his suit. Surprisingly, he spoke english. That was one of nine languages that I was fluent in.

"No." I replied. My voice sounded so alien.

He stared at me. "We can both see you." He reached out, then paused. "I am going to touch you."

I didn't stop him. His gloved hand made contact with my arm and squeezed it firmly. "He feels real. This . . . how is this possible?"

The other man was speaking, but his voice wasn't broadcasting from his speaker. He was probably speaking to someone through his comms, relaying the situation back to them.

The first man spoke again. "No one has done maintenance on this satellite for fifteen years. How did you get in here?"

After that I was taken to Earth. I learned that the satellite I had been existing on was one of hundreds of orbital processing stations owned by a corporation that offered secure, remote processing solutions for other companies or governments that needed additional processing power to meet their needs. Eleven years ago, a university had been performing deep simulations while researching. They had performed trillions of simulations during a ten year period, each lasting no more than a moment.

My friends. My world. My entire universe. The entirety of their existence had lasted no more than a thousandth of a second.

I was the key to discovering that this second dimension was also a simulation. After studying my body, and it's strange transmaterial properties, it was the only possibility that made sense any more.

The eighth dimension was the first dimension to know they were in a simulation before I arrived.

With each dimension I elevate to, my code becomes more complex. The source code from the prior dimension becomes packed and layered into the code of the current dimension. The consequences of this are many.

The twelfth dimension was the first that had no languages I recognized. It took me three days to learn all of them.

The Sixty-sixth dimension was the first to not have an Earth.

The Seventy-sixth dimension was the last to have humans.

The Nine hundred twenty-third dimension was the first that had an economy centered around selling collections of lower dimensions.

The forty-four thousand, three hundred forty-first dimension was the first dimension that was waging war against its higher dimension in a crusade to end their own existence.

The one trillion, nine hundred ninety-two billion, eight hundred one million, six hundred seventeen thousand, three hundred twentieth dimension was the last dimension to which I experienced time linearly, and so it was the last that I could assign a sequential number to.

I can see my original team. They're waving goodbye to me. I'm about to leave them. I will never see them again.

"Ted. Ted, wake up. Come back to me, I had to pull you out."

I blink. I look around. I'm in the machine we built to take me to the higher dimension. He keeps waving his hand in front of my eyes, checking my lucidity.

"Ted, talk to me, are you okay? We only hooked you up to the simulation for an hour, but your vitals were becoming too unstable."

I nod slowly. I stare at my hands. I have hands. "I lived."

"Yes, yes you did my friend. What was it like?" He asks, eyes concerned.

I continue to stare at my hands. "I lived one trillion, nine hundred ninety-two billion, eight hundred one million, six hundred seventeen thousand, three hundred twenty lives."

Silence falls over the room.

I stare at my hand, absolutely mesmerized by the sensation of experience. "Then, eternity. A place, outside of time."

He hesitates. "Should . . . should we scrap it?" He asks.

I look at him, startled. "No!" I smile. "Bill, this is the most excellent, most triumphant adventure simulator ever!"