"When We Loved Giants" by Sara S. Messenger + "Terms of Enlightenment" by Patrick Hurley

Summary

LIGHTSPEED MAGAZINE Podcast Episode Summary
Episode Title: "When We Loved Giants" by Sara S. Messenger + "Terms of Enlightenment" by Patrick Hurley
Date: March 26, 2026
Host: Stefan Rudnicki (Adamant Press)

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Brief Overview

This episode of the Lightspeed Magazine podcast features two rich and contrasting short stories:

1. "When We Loved Giants" by Sara S. Messenger (narrated by Susan Hanfield) – A lyrical, speculative meditation on motherhood, legacy, trauma, and survival, nested within a world where giants and humans coexist in both violence and longing.
2. "Terms of Enlightenment" by Patrick Hurley (narrated by Jack Turner) – A smart, satirical, and ultimately moving exploration of AI, virtual reality justice, personal transformation, and self-awareness, set in a future where rehabilitation is delivered through virtual monastic enlightenment.

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Story 1: "When We Loved Giants" by Sara S. Messenger

Narration begins: [00:35]

Key Discussion Points & Insights

• Motherhood as Transformation and Projection

  • The narrator, a mother, ruminates on the future of her brilliant, yet-to-be-born daughter, constructing her life around trauma (the plane crash with the giant) and her own parental hopes and regrets.
  • The story is told in both a prophetic and reflective register, combining intimate confession with mythic elements.

• Encounters with Giants: Literal and Figurative

  • Giants in the story are both monstrous and symbolic. They are objects of fear and mystery, capable of both destruction and accidental gentleness.
  • “If you make a giant angry or if it covets you, it will remove the scalp of your house and you will disappear.” ([03:33], Susan Hanfield)

• Survivorship and Scars

  • The fate of each plane crash survivor is recounted, with the daughter cast as uniquely unscathed, yet marked regardless.
  • Societal and personal trauma intertwine: the mother’s own childhood with giants, her distance from her own parents, and how those patterns shape her daughter.

• Immaculate Conception & Generational Legacy

  • The immaculate conception motif threads through the story, evoking both magical birth and intense parental expectation.
  • The narrator’s obsession with her daughter’s future achievements becomes a testament to her own longing for transcendence: “Her life would be a testament to me. My parenthood would transcend my parents.” ([04:44], Susan Hanfield)

• Exile, Growth, and Repetition

  • The mother forces her daughter out—pushed literally “through the tunnel”—mirroring her own expulsion from home.
  • The cyclical, almost ritualistic process of growing strong through adversity is highlighted: “You must drag and push and pinch them into the circumstances they deserve.” ([02:30], Susan Hanfield)

• Everyday Life Woven with the Extraordinary

  • In adulthood, the daughter becomes renowned in giant studies, with intimate details of her daily life (smoking, swimming with socks, feeding rats).
  • Urban giants exist, ghostlike now, slipping through the city, as the daughter reflects: “When you’re on the train, do you ever wonder if the screeching wheels are actually giants curled around the tracks?” ([09:20], Susan Hanfield)

• Acceptance and the Limits of Parental Power

  • The story closes on the aftermath of the plane crash, with the daughter saving the mother from the giant’s innards—reversing the roles of nurturer and the nurtured.
  • The final note is ambiguous yet hopeful, focusing on survival, cycles, and the prospect of healing.

Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• "She will unfold from the ruins of the crash palm viscera like a butterfly unseeming from the chrysalis. She will drag herself forward, covered in inhuman blood." ([01:50], Susan Hanfield)
• “I cannot wait for her to be born... heralded by the circumstances of her extremely difficult birth. Immaculate conception.” ([02:41], Susan Hanfield)
• "In the city there are giants, but they look very different, slender as ghosts, slipping between skyscrapers here, then gone, making no trouble at all.” ([08:30], Susan Hanfield)
• “I have never met a mother and daughter who didn’t spark off each other, illuminating their surroundings.” ([10:59], Susan Hanfield)
• “Her parenthood would transcend my parents. I had escaped the valley, but when my daughter was born, I saw briefly a shock of light placental. It frightened me.” ([04:40], Susan Hanfield)
• “Oh daughter, oh daughter.” ([10:51], Susan Hanfield) – A recurring lament echoing longing, pride, and powerlessness.
• The image of the daughter breaking free, “tear smeared, chest heaving to cut me from the stomach of the giant. I know she can. She must.” ([13:25], Susan Hanfield)

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Story 2: "Terms of Enlightenment" by Patrick Hurley

Narration begins: [18:05]

Key Discussion Points & Insights

• Rehabilitation through Virtual Enlightenment

  • Jay, sentenced to “VSim Rehabilitation,” wakes in a simulated monastery run by a mysterious, possibly AI abbot.
  • His background as a nonviolent con artist and chronic rule-bender places him in the system’s “grey area”: “An unrepentant, nonviolent layabout. The robed man began listing the particulars of Jay’s crimes: identity theft, fraud... a life of freedom.” ([20:32], Jack Turner)

• Exploration and Satire of Virtual Spirituality

  • The VSIM setting lampoons immersive spiritual MMOs and digital quests for enlightenment: “You could experience what it was like to be Martin Luther... the Crucifixion... a love for all humanity as you died.” ([21:42], Jack Turner)
  • Enlightenment, in this context, becomes both punishment and commodity.

• Resistance, Routine, and Acceptance

  • Jay’s natural instinct is to exploit the system or hack his way out, but the simulation’s interconnected detail stymies his usual tactics.
  • “The concept of VSIM chores idiotic… Why even simulate dirty dishes, cobwebs, or bodily functions anyway?” ([29:00], Jack Turner)
  • Hunger and curiosity eventually lure Jay into participating in monastic chores and meditations, blending self-interest with reluctant adaptation.

• Meditation, Mindfulness, and Seeing Through Illusion

  • Guided meditation tasks Jay with visualizing mundane details (“picture the dust... See how a ray of sunshine turns it into grains of gold” ([28:10], Jack Turner)), a process he finds excruciating—until boredom and insight allow him to perceive the simulation’s deeper structure.
  • Jay’s struggle highlights the challenge of introspection and the paradox of seeking freedom by resisting all systems: “By trying to get out of work, you seem to create more for yourself.” ([35:05], Abbot)

• Manipulation & Agency

  • The abbot intentionally arranges for Jay to do others’ chores: “They’re giving you their chores because I told them to. For a moment, Jay was too shocked to speak. What? Why?” ([34:28], Jack Turner)
  • Lesson in empathy: Jay is put in the position he forced on others.

• Pilgrimage, Temptation, and the Real Test

  • Sent on a quest to the village, Jay faces a simulated tiger, a peril that becomes a philosophical puzzle and a vehicle for real understanding.
  • Memorable parable: Jay outwits the system by giving strawberries to the mice rather than submitting to a hackneyed moral or causing harm ([45:42]).
  • “If a simulated tree falls in a simulated wood, but only a simulated idiot is there, is there any sound but fury?” ([43:41], Jay) – A wink at solipsism and first principles.

• Fraud and Redemption

  • In the village, Jay meets the would-be abbot, Floyd Gandolfino, infamous con-man. Gandolfino seeks to exploit the monastery credulity for profit: “Together we could turn this thing into a gold mine. You teach me how to bypass this VSIM’s framework without admin codes and I’ll make it worth your while.” ([52:00])
  • Jay refuses, having glimpsed the value in genuine belief—even within a “fake” world.

• Climax: True Enlightenment

  • Facing danger, Jay attains a moment of oneness: “Picture the dust. Jay took a deep breath, released it, and emptied his thoughts... In that moment, he beheld the infinite.” ([55:30], Jack Turner)
  • Gains deep understanding of the simulation’s code—transcendence through stillness, not subversion.

• Resolution & Ambiguity

  • Jay wakes from his pod, transformed with a new sense of purpose “There were lots of conmen using VSIMs to bilk people. Maybe he could do something about that. It wasn’t exactly enlightenment, but it would do.” ([57:40], Jack Turner)
  • The narrative closes on the notion that enlightenment—and redemption—may take unexpected forms.

Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• “You might be the laziest man I’ve ever met.” ([21:31], Abbot)
• “All you’ve done since you got in is try to break out. I’m not going to bilk these people.” ([53:30], Jay)
• “You achieved oneness and received an understanding of the program so deep you transcended its reality.” ([56:31], Abbot)
• “Picture the dust.” ([55:30], meditation mantra & story’s spiritual keystone)
• “A tiger really can change his stripes, Jay thought.” ([56:05], after the abbot’s transformation)
• “Jay let out a breath he’d been holding for years. I don’t have a price. At least not the kind you could pay.” ([55:59], Jay to Gandolfino)

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Important Timestamps

• [00:35] – Start of Susan Hanfield’s narration of “When We Loved Giants”
• [13:00] – Poignant, closing moments as the daughter rescues her mother
• [18:05] – Start of Jack Turner’s narration of “Terms of Enlightenment”
• [29:00] – Jay’s realization about the futility of resisting chores
• [34:28] – The abbot’s chore revelation and empathy test
• [45:42] – Jay’s parable with the tiger, mice, and strawberries
• [55:30] – Jay’s moment of enlightenment (“picture the dust”)
• [56:31] – The abbot explains Jay’s enlightenment
• [57:40] – Jay’s awakening and new resolve

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Final Thoughts

Both stories probe the boundaries between trauma and healing, illusion and authenticity, and the cycles of inheritance—whether parental, societal, or digital. They lean into LIGHTSPEED’s signature blend of the speculative and the deeply human, inviting reflection on what it means to survive, to resist, and to wake up—whatever your reality.

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Production Notes:

• “When We Loved Giants” by Sara S. Messenger—narrated by Susan Hanfield
• “Terms of Enlightenment” by Patrick Hurley—narrated by Jack Turner
• Edited by John Joseph Adams, produced by Stefan Rudnicki, post-production by Alex Barton, music by Jack Kincaid.

For more, visit lightspeedmagazine.com.

Transcript

[Stefan Rudnicki]

Light speed.

[Narrator/Host (possibly Stefan Rudnicki or another host)]

Greetings and welcome to the Lightspeed Magazine podcast. Stefan Rodnicki here today for your listening pleasure, we have two exceptional stories. First up is the short shot When We Loved Giants by Sarah S. Messenger, narrated by Susan Handfield, right after this message. And now, Susan Hanfield.

[Susan Hanfield]

When We Loved Giants by Sarah S. Messenger. I beg you, let me tell you about my daughter. My brilliant daughter will be one of the four people who survived their airplane crashing into a giant, or more accurately, a giant swiping their airplane out of the sky. Perhaps it meant to catch or caress. My daughter will never know. Usually airplanes predict giants ahead of time from sightings or seismic activity. But this one was not easily seen and quick as a whip. Like my daughter, the first survivor of the clever plane accident will go on to become an abusive father. The second survivor will die a few months later, a viral infection caught from the medical staff who treated her. The third survivor will suffer permanent spinal injury and be suggested euthanasia, per the guidance of the Canadian government. And the fourth will be my daughter. My beautiful, brilliant daughter will survive with nary a scratch. She will unfold from the ruins of the crash palm viscera like a butterfly unseeming from the chrysalis. She will drag herself forward, covered in inhuman blood. But I will inspect her and see no injury. I cannot wait for her to be born. She will have an extremely difficult life, heralded by the circumstances of her extremely difficult birth. Immaculate conception. When she becomes 13, I will push her out of our home, forcing her narrow body to climb the tunnel up and out into the precious slumbering thunder. She will be crying very hard. I will tell her, go become fat out there. Become an adult, so fat and tall and strong you can never slip in here again. I will shoulder her feet, her burn welted soles. I tell her they will heal in the sun. It is not easy to rear a child. You must drag and push and pinch them into the circumstances they deserve. On the flight, she will be on her way to achieving great things, delivering a research talk at the largest conference in her field of giant studies. She will be marking her speech with a highlighter, intelligent strokes across the paper laid on the meal tray, muttering in that deep voice I immaculately conceived. Her frown lines will be deep like wells to drink from. My beautiful daughter will reach her 30s. Will you believe it? She will have moved mountains and felled forests to world renown, demonstrating how brilliant she is. She may even have a lover. When I was her age, I was nothing. When I was her age, I may as well have been a child with empty hands. I cannot wait to become pregnant, and I hope she will come soon, as it is so dark in here and the floor so muddy and the wind rhythmic and wet. When I was a child, I lived in a valley where plains never reached. I lived in a valley where giants were. There were two of them in romance, or so I suspected. As the behavior of giants was hard to scry. They kept standing, cheek on the other's shoulder. Powers of nightness, breath rumbling for miles, then gone. When day came in the interstice, I would sink into the wood and try to catch sparrows slow and bare handed until the wood fell silent. Then to hide in the closet. The ground shook as they neared. If you make a giant angry or if it covets you, it will remove the scalp of your house and you will disappear. When I was pregnant, I felt my stomach was a closet. I dreamed of all I might provide my child. I would not be distant and meager like my mother or angry like my father. I would not be covetous of where my child's life might lead. Her life would be a testament to me. My parenthood would transcend my parents. I had escaped the valley, but when my daughter was born, I saw briefly a shock of light placental. It frightened me. I was holding her and I put her down too quickly. She began to cry. I reached for her again. Her preteen years would be difficult, mainly because she yearned for the tunnel. She spent most of her time at the very back of our perpetually damp home. During the long calm and the rare thunder, both her head tilted back, catching handfuls of that fresh wind with her nose. But when I forced her to go, she squirmed in my grip and sobbed and begged me for anything else. I could not tell her why she must go, that I had begun itching to banish the wind because of her affinity for flight. Though I cannot climb the tunnel myself. If I pace to the very back of my meager home and stand on my toes and crane my neck and tilt my head, I can catch a scent of the world, both past and future. I can split each word from my olfactory nerve. But there is no one to hear my words, save me. And so I keep my mouth firmly closed. It will be a long while yet before I consider the possibility of the wind carrying my voice. Even then, I will not beg. The day my brilliant daughter boards the plane. She will start the morning walking next to her lover. Her snoring lover will be touching her arm right where I gripped her to lift her into the tunnel. She will shake off her lover's hand, grab her research papers in the kitchen, remove her earplugs, and board the plane. Some days I feel quite young. These are days I sit below the tunnel and let slivers of the wind touch my ear, my face. I will learn my daughter has taken up smoking. I will learn my daughter shames her lover with dramatics such as choosing only to swim with her socks on. My nerves will tease out her favorite pastime when she leaves the university to walk along the river with all its stinking waste and watch the dock workers heave pallets from the bellies of ships. And sometimes she misses her train on purpose, sometimes two trains, and crouches on the curb by a bench cut in two, eating falafel and shaking crumbs from the paper lining for the rats she studies in the city. In the city there are giants, but they look very different, slender as ghosts, slipping between skyscrapers here, then gone, making no trouble at all. She asks her roommate once in college, when you're on the train, do you ever wonder if the screeching wheels are actually giants curled around the tracks? Do we know what giants sound like? I tilt back my head and scream into the wind, oh daughter, oh daughter. I have never met a mother and daughter who didn't spark off each other, illuminating their surroundings. You will find in the cramped darkness matters little if your child resembles you. Truth be told, I was afraid of the light, of it dawning somehow, and then seeing that through immaculate conception, she held my same face in the gristle and the gore of the palm and the plain as both belch smoke into the sky. I will search her red face and with relief find I do not remember what I looked like when I was young. When the palm collides with the airplane, my daughter's brilliant papers will fly off the tray. The inertia will yank her brilliant soul half out of her brilliant body. In the seat next to her, the line of the third survivor's spine will become a map of a nightmare. The father, who is not yet abusive, will have his face screwed against the elements studded with plastic and glass, and at home her lover, head bowed over a laptop, will raise their head briefly, a prickle like a fingernail tracing the backs of their ears. There's something in the air adjacent to the plane. The giant will not survive the encounter. Its throat will contort from the impact, its arm will nearly sever at the elbow, and quickly and silently it will fall, but for a moment it's life, the feather light against its hand. I have sended the plane shattered in two. I will right myself and stumble to the tunnel, only to find it collapsed, smaller than a child's door. To aid my steps, I will grip the arms of an immaculate ghost who wants descended for conception. And in the predawn air I smell it, the promise of a sparrow. My brilliant daughter holds the giant's face, a face she's seen only once before on a night overwhelmed by snoring thunder, she unbuckles from her seat and falls to the ground. Then, hand over hand, she will drag herself forward, tear smeared, chest heaving to cut me from the stomach of the giant. I know she can. She must. I know she will.

[Narrator/Host (possibly Stefan Rudnicki or another host)]

You have just heard When We Loved Giants By Sarah S. Messenger Narrated by Susan Sarah S. Messenger.com is an east and West Asian writer and Nebula Award co winner. Her stories have been published in Fantasy, Nightmare and Lightspeed, among others. She is using this bio, dear reader, to call upon you to join her in refusing and resisting the genocide of the Palestinian people. Wherever you are, throw what sand you can in the gears of the death machine. We are stronger together. Together we must resist, resist, resist. Along with a diverse career on stage and screen, Susan Hanfield is a prolific audiobook narrator with hundreds of titles to her credit. Susan is an Earphones Award winner, three times Audie Award Finalist and a Voice Arts Award nominee from her professional studio in Los Angeles. Susan's favorite fiction genres include literary fiction, historical fiction, young adult and science fiction fantasy. Nonfiction genres include faith based, inspirational, personal, self development and a business. Susan is known for her wide range of voices, accents, intonations and her ability to bring the written story to life. Up next we have Terms of Enlightenment by Patrick Hurley. Narrated by Jack Turner right after this message.

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[Narrator/Host (possibly Stefan Rudnicki or another host)]

Buckle up, we're going to light Speed

[Jack Turner / Ellen Marsh]

Terms of Enlightenment By Patrick Hurley Jay found himself sitting across from a bearded old man in voluminous maroon robes. Why are you here? The robed man asked. I was sentenced to V Sim Rehabilitation by my judge Counsellor. Yes, replied the robed man. You would choose the literal interpretation of the question, wouldn't you? They sat in a room of yellow paper screens softly lit by hanging candles. The air was cool and sweet, the ground cold and hard. Far off, Jay could hear people chanting softly. Or at least the sensory replicators attached to his skull simulated these details with such veracity they may as well have been real. What other interpretation is there? Jay asked. The robed man smiled. A manila folder manifested in his hand as if by magic. He appeared to read through it, but Jay thought this was for show, since the data absorption should have been instantaneous. You're an interesting case, J. Bender, Born Jamie Arvin Shikao of the Old Faiths Collective. Which I left, yes, and then fabricated a new identity and began a life of crime. A life of freedom. The robed man leafed through more pages. I begin to understand why you present a conundrum to your jc. Oh, Jane knew why. What he didn't know was if the creature sitting across from him was AI or an actual person. These days it was hard to tell. He could be talking to a plugged in human or a collection of holistic algorithms, the digital equivalent of saints bones animated by technomantic voodoo. You might be the laziest man I've ever met, the rogue man continued. During all your rehabilitation stints you never had, a chore you didn't try to shirk, a loophole you didn't exploit. If you'd been forced to whitewash fences, no doubt you'd have gotten your entire neighbourhood painting inside of a week. What's that supposed to mean? Jay asked. A reference from a time when trees were pulped to make books. The old man smiled again. No one was directly harmed by your actions. At least judge counselors can only recommend neurochemical cleansing for violent offenses. You're one of the few grey areas in the justice system. An unrepentant, non violent layabout. The robed man began listing the particulars of Jay's crimes. Identity theft, fraud, malfeasance, tax evasion. But Jay only paid attention when he concluded his spiel with since prior attempts at reformation have failed, we're going to try something a little different. Enlightenment. Jay finally realized where he'd been sentenced. Over the past century, as AI improved and neural skin suits became affordable, VSIMs or VSIMs or virtual simulations had exploded in popularity. Every human experience was commodified, every pain, pleasure, and thrill packaged to be discreetly sampled in the privacy of home. Some people, and their numbers increased daily, never left their skin suit pods, not even for basic necessities. They still wanted fulfillment, though, and in this new New Age. One of the latest fads was immersive theological MMOs. Some were practical. You could go on a virtual pilgrimage to Mecca or take part in a meditation retreat halfway around the world. Krasa packages offered by so called code gurus promised things like apotheosis in 33 days or your money back. You could experience what it was like to be Martin Luther as he nailed his 95 theses to the church door. You could witness the burning bush and receive the Ten Commandments. You could even go through the Crucifixion, feeling a love for all humanity as you died. Jay had been forced to go through them all at the old Faith's collective. You gonna save my soul? Jay asked. Because that won't go well. The robed man let out a deep sigh. I said nothing about souls. Enlightenment can mean different things for different people. You may leave us once you've answered my question. Did the robe man appear so calm because he'd crafted his avatar to look that way? Or did he lack the brain chemicals to generate anxiety? Either way, Jay didn't like him. What's your question? Jay asked. The robed man smiled once more. It was a vague smile of serene, benevolent contentment. Jay imagined Monks practice for years to produce such smiles. The one you asked when I arrived, Jay realised. But I did answer it. The robed man shook his head. You must answer the question honestly. That is your path to enlightenment. Jay was tempted to trigger a hallucination, but the problem was simulation reverb. AIs were the conduit through which a V sim's vast programming flowed. If they lost their hold on reality, they the simulation they maintained grew very disturbing. People who'd survived simulation reverb often needed months of therapeutic soothing to process the trauma. The human brain just wasn't equipped to experience a heuristic algorithm's nervous breakdown. The robed man led Jay outside. The V sim spared no expense on the view, at least. They stood atop a smooth stone terrace surrounded by the concentric circles of a sand garden. Beyond the monastery's elegantly carved red railings lay a range of snow capped mountains, surrounded at their base by a dense, misty forest. A cold breeze raised goosebumps on Jay's forearms. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the susurrus of trees below. Jay took a deep, imaginary breath. Even the air tasted perfect. I don't think you realize how lucky you are. Many applicants spend years donating time and money until the space finally opens here. Some of them may be upset, but no matter. I'm the Abbot and you may stay with us for as long as enlightenment takes. How long'll that be? The abbot raised an eyebrow and finally said, five years. What if I try really hard? Meditate for eight hours a day or something? The abbot raised a finger. 10 years? I just said I'd try really hard. 20 years. The logic wasn't too hard to stand on its head. Jay asked, what if I put in absolutely no effort at all and just enjoy your free room and board? The abbot's mouth fell open. Evidently this wasn't a reply he was used to. Finally he answered, you are an unusual specimen. He tried to hack them, of course. The monastery was incredibly lifelike, simulating everything from actual dust on the floor to fully functional bathrooms, odors included. With so much information flooding the AI, there had to be numerous interdependencies. All Jay had to do was find the right one and push. Yet no matter what walls Jay tapped, cobwebs he pulled, or physical laws he tried to bend, reality in the monastery stayed stubbornly stable. It was, Jay realised, a most cunning prison when not probing reality for weakness. Jay looked up the abbot's white fence reference, which led him to the works of Mark Twain. No doubt the Abbot had meant his comparison to Tom Sawyer as a critique, but Jay considered it a compliment. Tom had freedom. Tom went on adventures. All he wanted to do was float down the river with his friend Huck. At first, Jay refused to participate in the monastery's daily routine of chores and guided meditation. No one forced him to. But if he didn't take part, he didn't get fed. The monks didn't starve him. His pod still injected the requisite nutrients and calories to keep his body alive. But he never got to taste anything, which was hard. The cooking here was surprisingly good. Jay found the concept of VSIM chores idiotic. Why sweep cobwebs when a command could make them vanish? Why wash dishes when you could simply replace the dirty ones? Or better yet, program the sim so dishes never got dirty? Why even simulate dirty dishes, cobwebs, or bodily functions anyway? Eventually, though, Jay's desire to taste his food won out. That, and the realization that doing chores would give him more chances to find the cracks in the VSIMS facade. When Jay noticed that the monks had begun to leave their chores for him to finish as well, he was furious. But he also felt a twinge of satisfaction. Even so called monks weren't above petty slights. He didn't say anything to the abbot, partly because he enjoyed knowing something the abbot didn't, but mostly because completing the additional chores gave him even more hacking opportunities. Meditation was a disaster. It was too hard to sit still, almost tortured to be alone with his own thoughts. In V sim, Jay was a being of pure thought. How could he simply stop that? Sessions always started with the monastery residents sitting cross legged on mats, facing their guide. Picture the dust, the guide would say. It's light and blows with the wind. It's everywhere. See it settle on the cold, cracked stone. See it coat the wood beams that support our temple. See how a ray of sunshine turns it into grains of gold. These particles, they come from everything and nothing. Skin, stone, crumb and web. The rest of the session had them visualizing all sorts of mundane things in their surroundings. But by then, Jay had long stopped paying attention. His legs were cramped and his mind wandered. In his utter boredom, he tried to recall passages from Tom Sawyer or the adventures of Huckleberry Finn. By the end, he was usually sitting in anxious, twitchy agony. It soon became a matter of pride. Surely, if these lazy weirdos could do this, so could he. In desperation, he sought out the abbot. Ah, our guest, Mr. Bender. What can I do for you? Jay sat down on the floor across from the abbot. And realised he was in the exact same place. He started his VSIM sentence. I'm having trouble meditating. The abbot smiled. Why not ask one of your fellow residents for help? I don't think any of them would be interested. For once, the abbot looked surprised. Why do you say that? Jay hesitated. They don't like me. They're always leaving me their chores. Probably because I'm on a rehab sentence. The abbot chuckled. They're giving you their chores because I told them to. For a moment, Jay was too shocked to speak. What? Why? I thought you might like to know how it feels for someone to leave their work for you to complete. Also, you were so interested in fiddling with the monastery's digital boundaries, it seemed cruel to deprive you of the opportunity. You son of a. You should know that. Nearly all the residents protested this. Many wished to spare you their work, and it was only upon my insistence that they continued. The abbot's face stayed serene while Jay swore most inventively. May I ask you a question? Said the abbot after Jay finished. Jay shrugged. Sure. Why do you constantly seek to bend the rules? Your defiance is almost pathological. In fact, by trying to get out of work, you seem to create more for yourself. You're smart enough to know this, so why you're trying to be my therapist now, said Jay, merely trying to understand. But if the question makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to answer it. Jay took a deep breath. I don't like bullies. Are we bullying you here, Mr. Bender? If there's any bully, it's our justice system. But that's not who I'm talking about. The abbot said nothing, waiting for Jay to elaborate. Growing up in the Old Face Collective was hard, don't get me wrong. For people who believed, I guess it could be nice. Probably. But when you're forced to go through it. And the punishment for acting out was v sim immersion. All punishment was virtual, but it was still very corporal, if you catch my drift. The abbot studied him for a long time before finally saying, I'm sending you to the village. Jay blinked. There's a village? He'd always assumed the world ended outside the monastery's high walls, that the forest beyond was an effect, the digital equivalent of a pointillist painting glimpsed from afar. Where do you think we get our food? This is a virtual simulation. I thought it just appeared. The abbot sighed. While it's not forbidden to speak of this place as flexible reality, by now you should know it's considered rude. Sorry. So we have a village that Supports us. Who are these people? What do they do? For the most part, they live simple lives, crafting and farming while waiting for a spot to open up in the monastery. Sounds like every bad video game ever, Jay murmured. The abbot no doubt heard this comment, but elected to ignore it. Why me? Jay asked. Many of our monks have been here for years. You are more at home with the outside world, and there's something we need that can only be provided from outside. Ah, Jay thought he was most disappointed. For a moment, he'd begun to believe the abbot was the real deal. What do you need me to smuggle in? My replacement? What? I thought you were. The abbot chuckled. An AI? It's all right. Many of the monks have speculated over the years. In truth, I'm just a tired old man who's ready to shed one last earthly attachment. It's almost time for me to wake up. If you're not an AI, who is? No one. Then how does this place function? Jay asked, waving his hands at the walls. The details here are more accurate than I've ever seen in a vsim. The abbot leaned forward as if to impart a great mystery. The secret is mindfulness. Jay waited for the abbot to wink or laugh. When that didn't happen, he said, are you fucking serious? I am. Sounds like bullshit. Candlelight danced across the abbot's face as he guffawed. It does indeed. But think about it. We teach living in the moment. You and hundreds of others participate in various concentration exercises. Breath, dust, odor, taste, smell. The VSIM is programmed to use our brain's processing power and incorporate our thought constructs into itself. We've no need for a synthetic consciousness help, for we create our own collective reality. Jay didn't buy it. The only thing he'd managed to produce during his meditation session was a severe case of anxiety. But there was no point in arguing further. So your replacement is arriving from your applicant farm. Why don't they just port him here? It's traditional that every resident of the monastery comes to us from the village. Even my replacement. I didn't start there. The abbot nodded. In your case, we didn't think it would sit well with the villagers to see someone who'd earned their place with us by being a serial delinquent. Point taken, said Jay. So let me get this straight. You preach letting go of attachment and transcending reality, yet you all live in a simulation using thousands of terabytes of data just to pretend you live in the real world. Jay hoped his jab would rile the abbot, but instead The Miles smiled even more widely. Yes, and the end goal of our practice, as in the so called real world, is to wake up from the illusion. Here we train to live in reality so that when our time is over, we can see through it. I don't understand. The abbot nodded. Perhaps you will gain understanding on your pilgrimage to town. The next day, dressed in the robes of the monastery, Jay set out to find the abbot's replacement. The front gates opened with a huge creak as several sweaty monks cranked the chain winches in the gatehouse. Beyond the walls, a path led to a thick forest canopy, its shadows heavy and dark. Though the jungle seemed foreboding from outside, once beneath the trees, it was actually quite pleasant. Green tinged rays shone through the thick palms. Birds chirped and cawed. Far off, Jay could hear monkeys calling to each other. After taking a moment to savor his new surroundings, Jay started trying to break them. Yet even here, gravity stayed stubborn, dirt remained granular, and bark retained its hardness no matter how Jay massaged it. He tried etching various programming glyphs into the soil, but if There were any AIs or admins monitoring him, they didn't take the bait. Finally, Jay kicked a tree in frustration, which caused a loose branch to fall on his head. To his surprise, he chuckled. Before his time in the monastery, he would have tried to chop the tree down. Instead, he thought of a new twist to an old thought experiment. If a simulated tree falls in a simulated wood, but only a simulated idiot is there to witness it, is there any sound but fury? Jay continued through the forest with a smile on his face. Eventually he climbed a hill that took him along a winding ridge just above the tree line. He looked back. Veiled in jungle mists, he could just make out the vague outline of the monastery tucked into the cliffside. A curious sensation arose in his chest. Did he actually miss the place? A little while later, he came to a narrow, scrubbed, lined ledge overlooking a churning river. Jay was halfway across when a loud growl soured his good mood. At the far end of the ledge, a snarling tiger slowly stalked out of the brush. Jay's nostalgia vanished. What the hell kind of simulation was this? His first impulse was to run. But didn't running from a predator encourage it to chase you? In most VSIMs, if your avatar died, you simply reloaded. But here, bruises hurt. Shit stank. If the tiger digitally disemboweled him, Jay feared it would be excruciating. Permadeath was a transition he definitely wasn't ready for. The tiger grew Closer, Jay studied the ledge and another solution presented itself. Keeping an eye on the predator, he crept over the side and clung from some of the cliffside fern's dangling roots. To his astonishment, as Jay hung from the side of the ledge, waiting for the tiger to leave, small mice emerged from gaps in the rocks and began gnawing on the precarious roots holding him aloft. Jay stared incredulously. Was this some kind of sick joke? He thought of flinging the mice at the tiger, but that would have broken the monastery's rule of non violence. Much as he wanted to survive, Jay was pretty sure harming digital creatures would add to his sentence. Still, as the roots frayed and the mice continued to gnaw, Jay wondered if those extra years might be worth it. That's when he noticed the strawberries beneath the roots, growing along a sharp outcropping on the ledge, and was a patch of ripe red strawberries shining like rubies in the sun. Even in his desperate state, Jay's mouth watered when he saw them. What Jay did not do was eat the fruit and enjoy his last few seconds in the V sim. He realized that while some might see this fuckery as a parable about enjoying life's moments while you could, he had no desire to take part in such a bloody lesson. Jay snagged the strawberries and offered them to the mice, who immediately stopped gnawing on his fraying lifeline and enjoyed a fruity snack. The roots, however, continued to unravel. Realising he had a choice between certain virtual death and an uncertain virtual standoff, Jay chose accordingly. As he scrambled back up the ledge, the mice scurried past the tiger, who roared and chased after them, disappearing into the brush. Once he caught his breath, Jay hurried across the ledge. When he arrived in the village a short while later, Jay found the new abbot sitting in the village square, speaking to an admiring crowd. The would be abbot was as rotund as some avatars of enlightenment and looked just a few years older than Jay. His head was newly shaven and his robes pristine. Jay found his smile smug rather than benevolent. The villagers, however, hung onto the would be abbot's every word. They oohed and ahhed at every pearl of wisdom, pearls which Jay recognized as liberally cherry picked from a dozen different religions. Ah, my son. It's good you have come, the new abbot said upon seeing him. He turned to the villagers. The monastery has sent one of their own for me. Go, my children, in peace and love. Go with my blessing and the blessings of the great Kama Sutra above They're a simple people, the would be abbot said to Jay as the villagers dispersed. Yet their kindness greatly warms my heart. Indeed, it's difficult now to respond to such hot air, jay murmured. As they walked through the jungle, the new abbot talked non stop, peppering his rambling discourse with the occasional inane platitude. He only grew silent when they came upon a young woman pacing back and forth along a creek. What's the problem, my daughter? Asked the would be abbot. She was very noticeable, with curves over hard muscle, forming a most pleasing shape. Before his time in the monastery, Jay would have hacked her socials, sent her over a favourite drink, and then pretended it was a mistake, that he'd meant to order the drink for himself. Then he'd apologise and mention he had to get back to watching whatever media she'd last mentioned enjoying. It didn't always work, but the results were at least entertaining. Oh, I just had my toenails done and don't want to get my feet wet, said the woman, her lower lip extending in a pout. Could you help me cross the river? River was perhaps a misnomer, as it was little more than a shallow stream. Certainly, the new abbot said, and to Jay's astonishment, the man knelt before her. Hop on my shoulders and I shall take you across. The woman did so and the Would be abbot carried her to the other side, a feat which took all of 20 seconds, though Jay thought he may have stretched it out a bit. The woman thanked the would be abbot, batting her eyes and smiling. Of course, my child, of course, her rescuer replied. Please come by a monastery should you ever wish to seek enlightenment. She promised she would do so. Jay and the would be abbot walked on. What is troubling you, my son? The would be abbot eventually asked. You know the monastery requires a vow of celibacy, right? Said Jay. Of course. Well, we're not supposed to even look at unattached women unless they're monks. You not only looked at her, but you carried her. Ah, but my son, the would be abbot said with an air of grave profundity, I dropped the woman a while back. Why do you still carry her? Jay rolled his eyes at this obvious deflection. That stream was only a couple feet wide. You just wanted to feel that lady's thighs around your head. The would be abbot's smile tightened for a moment. If you say so. Listen, I'm here on a mandated behavioral therapy sentence, but if you're gonna lecture others about foregoing worldly delights, you shouldn't lose your head over a damsel in dist So I shouldn't have carried her? The Would be asked if we'd been fording a roaring river and she'd had kids or something. I'd a helped you myself, but this was just a lady trying to tempt some monks. The Would be abbot sidled up to Jay and elbowed him. You expect me to believe you've foregone all enjoyment of the flesh since you came here? Well, yeah. It's not like there have been many opportunities. Come on, I know all about you, Mr. J Bender. The Would be abbot put an arm around his shoulder. In fact, you're just the fellow I wanted to talk to. Why? Are you going to kick me out? The Would be abbot lowered his voice. Just the opposite, Brother. I want you to help me run this place. Do you realize how much these suckers pay to be part of this commune? 1000 credits every month. And that's just at the start. Together we could turn this thing into a gold mine. This is a trick, isn't it? Said Jay. The Would be abbot drew a few programming sigils in the air. Suddenly they were standing within a glowing golden dome. There. Now we're shielded from monitors. How did you do that? Jay asked, more than a little jealous. I already got admin privileges, my son. Now watch. The Would be abbot drew several more glowing symbols in the air. Everything around them fell silent. When Jane noticed a falling leaf paused mid descent, he realised reality itself had come to a standstill. Far from being intrigued, Jay felt mildly offended. After living in this V sim for so long, breaking the illusion felt like a violation. Here, scan my avatar id. The Would be Abbot held out his hand and a glowing barcode floated above him. My name's Floyd Gandalfino. I'm sort of what you might call an expert in these kinds of operations. Jay had heard of Gandolfino before Jay's time. They'd run in similar circles. The man was a legend, a consummate huckster, founder of over a dozen cults, stealing credits and data from whole cities. Then one day he just disappeared. Vanishing so thoroughly everyone thought he was dead. Yet the glowing ID contained all Gandolfino's known genetic markers. It couldn't be faked. At least Jay had never heard of it being done. So he was the real deal. Listen, said Jay, you got a sweet gig, but you should take it seriously. These people, they really believe this stuff. The current abbot, the man you're replacing, he's dedicated his life to making the V Sim. As real as it can be. That fool, the Would Be Abbot said, smirking at him. He no longer spoke in the soothing tone of a guru. You seriously bought his bullshit? He's not a believer, just a fraud running a small time con. He never maximized his potential, though. With your help, I could milk these sheep for all they're worth. We could be the next big self help movement. Jay realised why he disliked Gandolfino. Because he'd been him once upon a time. I know it sounds corny, said Jay, but the monks here really believe this stuff. You can find something real here if you let it happen. Like you have. From what the security reports say, all. All you've done since you got in is try to break out. I'm not going to bilk these people. The Would Be Abbot rolled his eyes. Fine. If you're not going to help, then at least stay out of my way. Or what? Jay said. Or I'll make sure you get transferred somewhere worse. With a snap of his fingers, the golden dome vanished and reality resumed. Before, Jay would have punched the guy. Now he folded his hands, bowed and said, my deepest apologies. When they arrived at the ledge over the rapids, Jay almost let Gandolfino walk ahead without mentioning the tiger. But then he imagined the current abbot's face as he explained how his replacement had been digitally clawed to shreds. Wait, said Jay. Gandolfino turned towards him with raised eyebrows. Jay sighed. There was a tiger here when I first came through. It's a test, I think. Gandolfino grinned. I already told you, I got admin privileges. Nothing can hurt me. The tiger was waiting for them. Rather than scramble back, the Would Be Abbot proclaimed loudly. Fear not, for I have achieved enlightenment and am one with the universe. No living thing will harm me, for my soul is pure, my dharma bright, the man thought. It was all a show, Jay realised. Yes, but the tiger is growling rather loudly, said Jay. If you want my advice. Gandolfino raised a finger. The tiger stalked forward. Wait. That shouldn't happen, Gandolfino said. He frantically drew runes in the air, but the tiger only growled louder. Something's wrong. What? Jay asked. My overrides. The Would Be Abbot shouted. They're not working. The tiger crouched low. Jay closed his eyes. He heard a most unserine scream, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the Would Be abbot pinned beneath the roaring predator. It smashed a paw into the dirt, missing Gandolfino's head by inches. Dust plumed as the tiger drew back its claw to Strike again. The words of the daily meditation came back to Jay. Picture the dust. Jay took a deep breath, released it, and emptied his thoughts. He pictured the dust. The world opened to him. The flow of seconds became the crawling of years. Jay could see this reality for what it was. Beautiful lines of code and math electrons forming inputs, flipping switches in the three pounds of supercomputing fatty tissue that resided in his skull. Jay could see through the V sim beyond it to the physical world. In that moment, he beheld the infinite. The programming glyphs had been available to him this whole time. They'd always been there. Only by stilling his thoughts, by stepping outside of himself and into the moment, could Jay see them. It was terrifying. It was wonderful. It was too much to take in for long. Before the moment faded, Jay made some quick alterations to the VSIM source code. The tiger vanished into glowing motes of dust. Gandolfino sat up, rubbing his arms where its claws had torn his robes. How did you do that? He asked Jay. How did you do that? Jay almost said he didn't know, but that wasn't quite true. Deep down, part of him remembered how he'd hacked the vsim. He might not be able to replicate it on demand, but he'd always remember. Sometimes the universe shows you the way, he finally said. Gandolfino gave him a cunning look. Play your cards close, then. Tell you what. You teach me how to bypass this VSIM's framework without admin codes and I'll make it worth your while. Hell, I'll make you an admin. A month ago, Jay would have leapt at that. I don't think I could teach you even if I wanted to. A hard bargainer, eh? Alright, Bender. Name your price. Jay let out a breath he'd been holding for years. I don't have a price. At least not the kind you could pay. For a moment, Gandolfino looked furious. Jay wondered if he was going to try to attack him. But instead he paused, changed, grew shorter and thinned out. His features reformed, becoming older and far more familiar. The abbot stood before Jay and gave one of his mysterious smiles. I wondered if it was you, jay said. How did you fake Gandolfino's biometrics? The abbot chuckled. Floyd Gandolfino was who I was a long time ago, before I was shown a better way by the previous abbot. An entity with infinitely more grace and compassion than I. Maybe a tiger really can change his stripes, Jay thought. The metaphor led to another question. What would you have done if I hadn't reset the tiger probably been disemboweled. It's quite painful. You done it before? Jay asked. For once, the Abbot's smile did not look so serene. The test to become Abbot here is quite rigorous. In any event, you've proven yourself and answered my question. What?

[Stefan Rudnicki]

Really?

[Jack Turner / Ellen Marsh]

You defied a con man who tempted you into defrauding innocence to save him. You achieved oneness and received an understanding of the program so deep you transcended its reality. You saw through the illusion and found your way. It may not be our way, but it's yours, just as is your enlightenment. The abbot patted Jay on the shoulder, then shoved him off the ledge. Jay screamed as he fell, but then he remembered that in here, gravity was just an illusion. Jay smiled and woke up. He lay in his court appointed pod wearing a government issue skin suit. Despite the vsym pod's regular twitch stimulation, his muscles always felt stiff after a long session. In that moment, however, Jay felt incredibly grateful for the ache. As he got dressed, Jay thought about the Abbot's last words before he shoved him back into reality. There were lots of conmen using VSIMs to bilk people. Maybe he could do something about that. It wasn't exactly enlightenment, but it would do.

[Narrator/Host (possibly Stefan Rudnicki or another host)]

Welcome back. You have just heard Terms of Enlightenment by Patrick Hurley Narrated by Jack Turner and directed by Gabrielle Dure Patrick Hurley has had fiction published in dozens of markets including Factor 4, Abyss and Apex, Galaxy's Edge, and New Myths. A graduate of the Taos Toolbox Writers Workshop, Patrick lives in Seattle, where he works for Paizo, Inc. As their managing editor. To read more of Patrick's stories, check out Patrick Hurleywrites.com Oxford educated psychologist turned Google alum, Jack Turner transitioned from tech to the arts after discovering a passion for acting in San Francisco. Now based in Los Angeles, Jack has built a versatile career across film, television, and voiceover. He first gained notice as the lovelorn Miles in the Ten Year Plan, followed by several lead roles for Hallmark and Lifetime. Jack had a two season run as the enigmatic Liam Granger on Freeform's Stitchers and portrayed JRR Tolkien on DC's Legends of Tomorrow, the first time the author was depicted on scripted television as narrator. Jack was one of the voices in the number one Amazon and Audible thriller as Good as De.

[Stefan Rudnicki]

The war is over and both sides lost kingdoms were reduced to cinders and armies scattered like bones in the dust. Now the survivors claw to what's left of a broken world, praying the Darkness chooses someone else tonight. But in the shadowdark, the Darkness always wins. This is old school adventuring at its most cruel. Your torch ticks down in real time and when that flame dies, something else rises to finish the job. This is a brutal rules light nightmare with a story that emerges organically based on the decisions that the characters make. This is what it felt like to play RPGs in the 80s and man, it is so good to be back. Join the Glass Cannon Podcast as we plunge into the shadow dark every Thursday night at 8pm Eastern on YouTube.com theglasscannon with the podcast version dropping the next day. See what everybody's talking about and join us in the dark. Oh please, not that music. That music gives me nightmares from my childhood. Could we get something a little bit lighter? Some lighter music here? Are you a fan of true crime TV shows? And what about Unsolved Mysteries, the show that jump started all of our love of true crime?

[Jack Turner / Ellen Marsh]

I'm Ellen Marsh.

[Stefan Rudnicki]

And I'm Joey Taranto and we host

[Jack Turner / Ellen Marsh]

I Think Not, a true crime comedy

[Stefan Rudnicki]

podcast covering some of the wildest stories from your favorite true crime campy TV

[Jack Turner / Ellen Marsh]

shows all the way to Unsolved Mysteries.

[Stefan Rudnicki]

Baby. You will laugh, you will cry, you'll think about true crime in a whole new way. And you'll also ask yourself who gave these people mics?

[Jack Turner / Ellen Marsh]

New episodes of I Think not are released every Wednesday with bonus episodes out every Thursday on Patreon.

[Stefan Rudnicki]

And every Monday you can listen to our True Crime rundown where we go over the top true crime headlines of the week.

[Susan Hanfield]

So come and join us wherever you

[Jack Turner / Ellen Marsh]

listen to your podcasts.

[Stefan Rudnicki]

The world of Sonic the Hedgehog has been thrust into a not so dark, not so stormy hard boiled detective story that probably nobody saw coming. Follow Sonic and the intrepid Chaotix Detective Agency as they take on on their biggest case yet. This high flying, action packed adventure will take them across the world fighting for every clue they can find. It's one heck of a tale, which is good because this story might be the only thing that can save their lives.

[Jack Turner / Ellen Marsh]

Well, if that's all, I can just dispose of you.

[Stefan Rudnicki]

Wait, what? All will be revealed in Sonic the Hedgehog Presents the Chaotix Case Files. Listen now wherever you get your podcasts.

[Jack Turner / Ellen Marsh]

The Chaotics are on the case.

[Narrator/Host (possibly Stefan Rudnicki or another host)]

These stories were taken from the pages of Lightspeed Magazine which is edited by John Joseph Adams. The podcast is co produced by Stefan Rodnicki and Alison Belle Buse at Skyboat Media and the stories and podcast are copyright 2026 post production was by Alex Barton at Phase Shift and our music was composed and performed by Jack Kincaid. I am Stefan Rudnicki. Thank you for listening.