Not So You’d Know

They had a fun game in that universe,
A model-universe generator

That could churn them out by the billions,
And any soul could enter one of those.

The first rule of the game was surrender—
Participants gave up all agency.

The second rule involved amnesia—
While in the game, no one knew it was one,

Or remembered being anything else,
Or having chosen to enter this game.

The only memory players retained
Was agency—not actual freedom

To choose and shape worlds, just the memory
Of having once had that ability.

Choose a world, dive in, forget you chose it,
But remember the feeling of choosing,

Even though now you’re totally helpless
And have no idea whatsoever why.

They did it for the terror, for the thrill
And relief of waking up from the dream.