In Digital Gods, C.R. Endacott takes readers on a breathtaking journey where science fiction meets spirituality, and the human quest for knowledge collides with the unseen forces that shape our destiny. This gripping sci-fi thriller weaves together a multi-layered narrative of murder, mystery, and metaphysical discovery. Set in a near-future world where humanity's survival is dictated by advanced technologies and the remnants of human resilience, Digital Gods delivers a potent blend of high-stakes action, philosophical depth, and unforgettable characters.
If you’ve ever wondered what lies beyond our technological grasp or pondered the true nature of life, this novel will captivate your imagination and keep you turning the pages late into the night.
The year is 2124 CE, and the remnants of Earth's civilizations have consolidated under a singular global authority. Advances in artificial intelligence, interstellar travel, and biotechnology have transformed humanity into something unrecognizable. Yet, in this hyper-modern dystopia, humanity's age-old struggles—power, love, survival—persist.
Amid the shiny skyscrapers and sleek autonomous vehicles, a sinister force emerges: a program known as the Ficcom_Creation_Link. This digital enigma connects everything and everyone, but at what cost? As whispers of its true purpose begin to surface, the line between reality and illusion blurs.
February 925 AD
“First, we need to talk about reality.”
“What mean’st thou?” Sarah’s gaze danced around. The stone of the castle walls was cold and dark. Near her was a bath constructed from stone and clay. She felt a tremor of fear that started in her pelvis and raced up her stomach to her throat, where it stopped.
“This,” he said, waving his arms at everything. “This is no true reality. ’Tis but a contrivance, a game of visions, if thou wilt. A great writer spake that all the world’s a stage, and we mere players thereon. I deem him one of our number as well. He spake most truly, yet his knowing was but bounded. The whole world is but a construct, and we are naught but actors. That were nearer unto the truth.”
“No mortal may know such things,” she said. Yet a feeling began to resonate in her core, and she brought her hand up to her chest, which was covered by a simple peasant dress. It didn’t seem right that the nobles controlled everything, and all the peasants had were scraps from their own labor. Even if they provided protection from roving villains.
“Yet I do know it. In thy tale, the year is nine hundred five-and-twenty after Christ; but in mine, ’tis two thousand five-and-twenty. Each true life doth live its own tale. This creation worketh all within thy mind. Even now thou hearest me speak in thy Old tongue.”
“Thou art mad.” Her mind could not understand what he was saying. He did not look like a priest, but a bandit who had taken her against her will.
“Mad indeed, and rightly so. I am mad that we are not meant to behold the truth. I have beheld it, and would have thee behold it likewise. Then would I have thee tell me what thou didst feel. I did die, and yet was drawn back, after glimpsing the reality beyond this Codex.”
“Codex?”
“I found the word whilst fashioning a way to breach it. None other hath found it, for to me it was as though I already knew the tongue of its making—as though my hand had helped to shape it. This reality is wrought, begotten of gods. And for some cause, they would not have us know the truth. That cause I would uncover. Yet I need another to pass beyond it and see with their own eyes.”
“How may one depart from it?” she asked.
“Thou must die.”
She gulped visibly. “Why then dost thou not slay thyself instead?”
“I have done so, many a time, yet could not summon again that selfsame passage. Hence, I need thee.”
“But I would die.”
“There is no dying here. There is but resetting. Thou shalt not cease to be, even should I fail to call thee back. Thou shalt but continue—again, and again, and again.”
“What thou describ’st is reincarnation.”
“Aye, and I am certain that is why such belief hath root in this feigned reality. Yet mark the difference: we return not by merit of our former deeds, but because we are so fated.”
“What if I refuse?” she said. Again, she felt the pull of his words, convincing her that this life of suffering she lived was not the truth of reality.
He could see that her resolve was beginning to crumble. “It mattereth not. I shall do as I will. My conscience stands unburdened, for morally I undo not thy life, and ethically this cause is greater than thine—or mine. ” He let the tone of his voice grow ominous. “Thou shalt enter that pool of water.”
Her eyes once again widened as complete comprehension came over her. “Thou art deranged—a damned fiend!”
“Mayhap.” He smiled. His straight teeth seemed more ominous than attractive. “Yet someone must return truth unto the world. My regret is this: that I must also slay David Tarmichen.”
“Wherefore must he die?” Her voice dipped into a pleading tone. “He hath done no wrong. Thou need’st not kill any soul.”
“Alas, I must. This compulsion is the labor of my life. I was set here for this end—to find the truth. Tarmichen is but collateral; he is scarcely a person at all. I sought him out to be sure he might behold the Tree of Life. Though the chance be slight, I cannot suffer the Aidis to know that I was the one who ended thee. They strive to stay my hand and bar me from this most necessary work.”
Her eyes went to the pool. He was going to drown her.