The Round Table
A Short Story by John Reizer
A group of men and women sat around a circular table in a quiet room deep underground. They were not like other people. They were the “Elites.” They had known each other for many lifetimes. Their eyes were focused, and their voices remained calm. They were here to talk about the world above. One of them, a man with dark, closely cropped hair, spoke first.
“It’s time,” he said. “The cycle is almost complete. Three hundred and fifty years, right on schedule.”
The others nodded. They all knew what this meant: The world, as people knew it, would end again, just like before. And just like before, the Elites would survive.
Many years ago, another world was full of flying machines, clean energy, and cities that reached the sky. But then, a great cataclysm came. Earth shook, oceans rose, and fire rained from above. Almost everyone died, and almost everything was lost.
But not everyone and everything.
The Elites had hidden the old technology. They locked it away deep below the ground in secret vaults and underground cities that stretched for miles. When the surface was safe again, they came back out. They used cloning procedures to rebuild the human race. They placed people in new homes, gave them new names, and told them untrue stories of the past.
And slowly, they gave the people pieces of old technology. Bit by bit, year by year, the people believed they were inventing these amazing technologies for the first time. But they weren’t inventing anything new. They were just being allowed to see what they once had in other lifetimes.
The Elites kept a close watch on everything. They remembered all their past lives. They used special techniques to be born again in the same families. They kept their gold, their land, their power. While others forgot who they were, the Elites never did.
One tall woman at the table, dressed in grey, whispered, “They still believe they live on a spinning ball in space.”
The others smiled. They all knew the truth.
The world the people saw was not real. It was a 3-D holographic simulation, a kind of game. Every soul had chosen to be here. They wanted to learn, grow, and feel. But once inside the construct, they forgot nearly everything. That was part of the experience.
Only the Elites remembered. They watched the realm go through reset after reset, maintaining the continuity of their control while most others forgot.
As the next reset drew near, the elites made their plans. Like always, they would go deep underground. They would wait out the fire, the floods, the silence. And when the cataclysmic event was over, they would return, in a position to become rich and part of the click, the few who controlled the many.
Above, the people laughed, cried, worked, and played, never knowing the truth. They never knew that this had all happened before and that it would happen again, and again, and again!
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