Chapter 1: The Glitch in the Universe
Hamud had always felt something was off. It wasn’t just the usual existential dread or the creeping suspicion that life was some cruel improv show with no punchline—it was deeper, like an itch in his soul that he couldn’t scratch.
It started small. Patterns that shouldn’t exist. The same pigeon staring at him every morning. The word “Tuesday” appearing on every billboard. His neighbor, Mrs. Krauss, always greeting him with the exact same sentence, in the exact same tone, with the exact same number of blinks.
And then, one day, his reflection quit.
He walked past a mirror, and instead of copying him, it just stood there, shaking its head.
“Nope. I’m out.”
Then it walked away.
Chapter 2: The Call Center of the Gods
Hamud tried to ignore it. He really did. But when his coffee started whispering stock tips and the sky turned into a Windows error screen, he figured he should probably call someone.
A number appeared in his cereal that morning: 1-800-EXISTENCE-HELP.
He dialed.
After six hours on hold (with lounge jazz that actively insulted him), a bored-sounding cosmic being picked up.
“Yeah, Reality Support, what’s the issue?”
Hamud swallowed. “I think something’s wrong with… existence?”
“Lemme check.” There was typing. A sigh. “Oh. Yeah. Yikes. Looks like you’re a typo.”
Hamud blinked. “A what?”
“A typo. Clerical error. Cosmic mistake. See, your name was supposed to be ‘Leona,’ and you were meant to be a highly respected tree in another dimension. Instead, you ended up as… uh… this. Kinda embarrassing, honestly.”
Hamud sat in silence as his brain slowly detonated like a dying star.
“Are you saying I was never supposed to exist?”
“No no no! Not at all!” The cosmic being chuckled. “We’re legally required to say that you exist. It’s just… you were kind of copy-pasted into the wrong format. Think of it like trying to install a toaster in a horse.”
Hamud ran a hand down his face. “Can you fix it?”
The line went quiet.
“Mmm. Fixing would require… deleting.”
Hamud tensed. “Deleting?”
“Yeah, basically turning you off and back on again—but we lost the original file, so we can’t guarantee you’ll be the same… or human.”
Chapter 3: The System Update
Hamud decided against deletion. But the universe had other plans.
A week later, things got worse. Gravity started fluctuating like bad Wi-Fi. Conversations began looping. People walked into rooms, forgot why they were there, and respawned outside.
Then he saw it.
A floating status bar appeared in the sky:
🔄 Updating Existence… 57% Complete.
Hamud screamed at the heavens. “WHO IS DOING THIS?!”
A massive finger poked out of the clouds and hit “Cancel.”
The status bar vanished. The world crashed.
Chapter 4: The Truth
When Hamud woke up, he wasn’t on Earth anymore.
He was in a cosmic office.
Rows of aliens, celestial bureaucrats, and interdimensional interns typed away at giant keyboards. One of them, a four-eyed, stressed-out entity in a wrinkled suit, turned to him and groaned.
“Oh, for the love of—WHO LET HIM WAKE UP?!”
Hamud took a step forward. “What the hell is this place?”
The being sighed and rubbed its four temples. “Alright, fine. You wanna know? Here it is.
“Existence is written.”
Hamud stared.
“Every moment, every person, every blade of grass? It’s all typed out. Problem is, we’re kinda short-staffed, and mistakes happen.” The being jabbed a clawed finger at Hamud’s chest. “You? You’re one of those mistakes.”
Hamud’s soul did a hard reset.
“So… what now?”
The being shrugged. “Dunno. We could delete you, rewrite you, or—oh! Hey! How’d you like a job?”
Chapter 5: Promotion to Godhood
And that’s how Hamud became an intern at Reality, Inc.
His first assignment? Fix the sun that kept forgetting to rise over Luxembourg.
His second? Patch the laws of physics, because someone accidentally copy-pasted spaghetti code into gravity.
And his third?
Well.
Hamud smirked as he typed into the system:
“Give all pigeons existential awareness.”
Because if the universe was going to be a joke…
He might as well be the one telling it.
