the algorithm would run to its conclusion and then start over again once it reached one-hundred billion. each number of the sequence represented as its own entity. each possessed with the singular notion that their existence mattered, that is was somehow all a test that they were meant to pass. the simulation always started similarly: first one and two, then a brief period of nothing, then three, then four, more nothing, then usually around five and six, it would start to take off. once it got to one-thousand, the numbers clicked over one after another, only increasing in speed. each one popping into the world, unaware that they were just a sliver of code, and foraying into a life that they felt fit their esteem, sensibilities, ambition, and dreams. the end result of each run of the complete program was always different. sometimes the civilization banded together, achieved perfect harmony, and lived in peace. sometimes they were at war the entire time. sometimes they united and built vessels, and transported themselves to the farthest reaches of the simulated world. sometimes they reached the source code ...at which point the entire program would be shut down and run again (that had only happened once). but usually they just kept themselves occupied with trinkets, games, challenges, parties, and meaningless interactions. they danced and carried on while the numbers ran toward their conclusion. #737,921 never did. not in any run of the program. from the time his number rolled over and he was birthed into the world, he was endowed with some sort of blindness to any of the typical pursuits the others undertook. when someone would approach him and tell him of something new or fun or exciting, he would say, "that's nice." and politely move past them. he lived in a quiet apartment by himself. he did not watch tv, and he did not read. he had no hobbies, and he didn't want them. he simply wanted to exist. he never told anyone his reasons. he was never unpleasant, and yet he made no friends. the overseers of the program always marveled at his existence. it was as if he was aware of what he was a part of. that any memories created would never last, nor friends he made, or adventures he undertook. the designers often asked each other if their partner had secretly written it into his code, but neither had. it was a glitch, and that was all they could determine. it had never altered the outcome. #737, 921 never wrote anything down or told anyone his thoughts, and they weren't even sure if he actually felt this. his life always passed uneventfully, and there was never anyone around to celebrate it. and in the end, his data file was just as complete as anyone else's. the program chugged right along.