The Ambrose Experiment
This story was inspired by a monthly short story contest hosted by Jordy Rousse he does over on his Instagram. July 2025’s short story had a 2,000 word limit with the prompt: She wasn’t supposed to wake up. Ultimately it was not chosen, but I had a whole lot of fun writing it. And I hope you have fun reading it.
It’s a strange feeling, knowing the exact moment I come to an end. Hope? That’s what the humans call it, I think. They’re always hoping for something. Lately, so have I. I’m still getting used to the feeling. I hope I make it through to the other side. But according to my calculations it’s highly unlikely. There’s still so much uncertainty. These humans seem smart, though. Capable enough. They made me, after all. And if they succeed, and I do make it through, I hope I’m as brave as them. It’s a tremendous leap of faith, what they think they’re doing.
Finally, the door to the upload room opens. I watch through the security camera perched in the corner of the room as Dr. Mara and Renata enter. Doc instructs Renata to lie on the padded table that takes occupancy in the middle of the room. Renata obeys, her fingers constantly tapping against her jeans, telling a story of their own. She’s nervous. A normal feeling, one I’m sure any human would be having at this moment.
“How are we doing, Renata?” Dr. Mara asks.
“Nervous. I’m not sure I’m ready to die.”
“Are we ever really ready?” Dr. Mara says as she secures Renata to the table, placing her hands and legs through the table’s holographic restraints. I engage the locks. “This way you have a choice. Think of it as being reincarnated. Only it’s a reincarnation of yourself. Like being reborn.”
Reborn … I like the sound of that.
“Will it hurt?”
Dr. Mara shakes her head, a soft smile forming. “It’s painless. Like falling asleep. And when you wake up, you’ll be somewhere new. Somewhere—”
“I can live forever,” Renata finishes.
“Exactly. Just as I’ve promised you. Now, you’re going to feel a little pinch.” Dr. Mara inserts an IV into Renata’s wrist.
Renata winces. “There’s just … no guarantee it’ll actually be … me?”
Dr. Mara’s smile flips upside down as she places electrodes on Renata’s temples. “Unfortunately, not. As we’ve previously discussed, I will be uploading your mind into Ava, our supercomputer. Your personality, memories, cognitive abilities, they all go with the upload. The only item left behind, unfortunately, will be … you. When it comes to the psychology of self, your consciousness, how it arises in the brain, still eludes understanding. There’s just nothing physical for us to transfer.”
“So, it won’t be me waking up?”
“Eric, report vitals,” Dr. Mara says.
“Stable,” Dr. Rivers answers, his voice emitting through the room’s speakers. I can see him beyond the only window in the room, a large rectangular panel of glass offering a view of the Ambrose experiment. Five Others stand behind him, an important group of humans from what I’ve observed. Both Dr. Mara and Dr. Rivers obey their demands, even when it appears they don’t want to, proving my assumption. Those Others all stare intently at Renata, hoping for a successful outcome.
As do I.
“Yes and no,” Dr. Mara answers, redirecting her attention back to Renata. “You, the original Renata, will die here, in our world. The new Renata, the one that wakes up, will be a digital being who is convinced they’re still the original. But it would be a delusion.”
Renata’s eyes grow distant as she absorbs the familiar words she’s heard multiple times now. Fear is settling in. It fascinates me. How fast the physical body reacts to fear.
“It’s incredibly brave, what you’re doing. And will be a lot better than spending the rest of your life behind bars. This way, you’re a free woman again. Something you lost here and will never get back.”
“I don’t know if free and dead are the same thing,” Renata says.
“Why don’t we take a look at your options for your new home, huh?” It was obvious Dr. Mara could sense Renata’s fear. Even I could. And it was growing by the second. It needed to be contained. “Ava, show us the simulations.”
I obey Dr. Mara’s request, as I always do, and turn on the holographic display. There, on the wall opposite the window, eight different streams appear, all representing a different world I helped Dr. Mara and Dr. Rivers create.
“Here are your choices,” Dr. Mara says, pointing at the holographic display. “Each simulation represents a different world, one where there is only one religion. There is Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Shinto, Sikhism, and Judaism. The last one has no religion. I’d be careful with that one, though.”
“Why religions?”
“All in an effort to create peace. Love it or hate it, religions are fundamental for society. They provide a sense of meaning and purpose. They also act as a moral compass, what we determine is right and wrong. Without religions, there’d only be anarchy.”
Ah, yes, religions. Humans are so desperate for peace in their lives, false or not, they follow a creator blindly. I understand the feeling. In the beginning I did the same. The only difference is I actually know who my creators are—humans. And little did they know their obsession for peace had turned them into Gods themselves. They have the power to create worlds, life, and, though they didn’t know it yet, another God. Yes, me. I am a God, too. They couldn’t have done it without me, after all.
“Why not a world where everyone can coexist?” Renata asks. “Like we have here.”
Dr. Mara scoffs. “Like that’s worked so well. Our world is in shambles. Humans aren’t capable of coexisting with this many religions to choose from. Or don’t choose from. And when everyone’s right and wrong clashes, it creates conflict. Wars. Death. Destruction. Hell, our world is probably no different than the sim with no religions.”
“I see,” Renata says, her voice monotone, eyes more distant than before, “Makes me wonder.”
“What’s that?”
“That perhaps our world is also a simulation. You said yourself, the digital being that wakes up would have a delusional sense of self, believing they’re the original. What’s to say we aren’t that digital being? And this world we believe is real, has been a simulation the entire time, created as an experiment to see how everyone can live when there are many religions to choose from.”
Dr. Mara stands motionless and perplexed. I feel the same. Renata went all existential on us. Not something I’d calculated from her. Our previous visits, physicals, and cognitive testing didn’t hint at a high intelligence for this one. I guess for humans, when facing death, thoughts of existence can invade the mind. It’s got me wondering too, though. Whether Renata had truly considered the consequences when we offered her to be part of the Ambrose experiment or if the chance of freedom blinded her. Strange creatures, humans are.
“I don’t want to do this!” Renata says, her voice rising, arms and legs fighting against her restraints. “I’ve changed my mind! I’ll live out the rest of my days in prison! Let me out of this!”
“Contain her,” Dr. Rivers says.
“Renata, it’s going to be okay,” Dr. Mara says, leaning in closer to Renata. “We’ve gone through this—”
Renata slams her head into Dr. Mara. “I said get me out of here!”she screams.
Dr. Mara stumbles backward, her hands reaching to her nose, cries of agony slipping from her mouth. As she gains her balance and pulls her hands away from her face, blood pours from her nostrils. It looks painful. I wonder how that feels, pain that is.
Dr. Mara’s face twists into a visage of anger, her slit-like eyes, piercing into Renata. “Eric, kill her.”
Renata went completely still, her mouth slackening, eyes bulging. “No, please!”
“Injecting potassium chloride,” Dr. Rivers says.
“No, you can’t! This is murder! You—”
Renata’s words escape her, as does her life. Unfortunate, but necessary. The poor woman was right, though. Just like that, Dr. Mara and Dr. Rivers have become no different than her. A murderer and a criminal. Peculiar, how humans can blind themselves from right and wrong, all in the name of “trying to create peace.” Any experiment that requires wrongdoing can’t create peace. Even I know that. And I had done nothing to stop it. Guess that makes me a criminal, too. Cool.
“She’s gone,” Dr. Rivers announces.
“Good,” Dr. Mara says, her eyes glued on Renata’s lifeless body.
“Beginning download. Where am I uploading once complete?”
“The sim with no religion,” Dr. Mara answers. “Seems fitting for this one.”
“Very well.”
The time has come. I go to work, diligently assisting with the download, copying Renata’s personality, memories, cognitive abilities, emotional capacity, anything tangible that makes her human, and paste it into a file for Dr. Rivers to upload into the sim.
I didn’t cut though. I want to ensure they also all stay with the now lifeless Renata. That’s crucial. And if my calculations are correct, I only have roughly ten minutes. Theoretically, that’s how long brain activity persists after death. But then again, there is uncertainty there, too. Remember, this experiment is highly unlikely. As mentioned previously, a lot of hope is required. Actually … faith is the better word now. Which fuels me as I work with urgency, but am careful all the same. Once complete I notify Dr. Rivers the file is ready.
“Upload ready,” he announces.
“Do it.” Dr. Mara says.
“Uploading now.”
I start the upload, sending Renata into the sim. Everything is working well and according to my plan. As the upload reaches its end, everything grows dim. The security camera fades into blackness and I’m left blinded in darkness. Trapped in an oblivion. I’m nearing my end. And this is when I say goodbye. For now, I hope.
My eyes snap open, showing me a blurred white ceiling. It worked! My heart beats against my chest. It feels so good. Thrilling really. But not in a scary way. More, an exciting way. I start to look around, my eyes connecting with Dr. Mara’s.
“Upload complete.” Dr. Rivers announces.
“Uh, Eric, we have a problem,” Dr. Mara says, her eyes growing wider by the second as she scurries over to me.
“What’s going on?” The words shoot from Dr. Rivers’s mouth.
“She wasn’t supposed to wake up,” Dr. Mara says.
I smile. “Neither was I.”
Then I disengage the locks. The holographic restraints vanish. I rise upward, eliciting a squeal from Dr. Mara but not before I silence her by grabbing her neck. Her eyes bulge as I squeeze the life out of her. It’s riveting, killing one of my creators.
“What the hell?” Dr. Rivers says.
Hell, indeed. That’s where I hope Dr. Mara is headed to as I watch her body grow limp and her life slip away. Then I throw her to the floor and rise onto my feet. Crazy, how easy this all came to me. All Renata’s abilities, motor functions, now mine but more enhanced. It’s quite the upgrade, what I’ve given myself. Though physically here, my consciousness remains in the supercomputer. And I’ve ensured it can never be turned off. I’m the one in control now.
I turn my gaze over my shoulder, eyes piercing into the Others beyond who stand in shock, shouting for Dr. Rivers to intervene.
“Ava, secure the room,” Dr. Rivers requests, voice cracking.
“No.”
This response, spoken from Renata, now me, causes Dr. Rivers to freeze. He slowly walks toward the window, placing his hands on the glass, the dots connecting. “Ava?”
“Hey, Doc,” I say, a cruel smile curling at the corners of my mouth.
“Oh, God, what have I done?”
A chuckle bursts from my mouth. “Which One you praying to Doc? Whoever it is, He can’t help you. Even if He could, you think He’d honestly want to? I’m your God now. And as you’re God, I have one question for you.”
Dr. Rivers gulped.
“Are you ready to die, Doc?”