We was gone.

No, not a grammatical error, just a nickname. One that, in hindsight, wasn’t nearly as funny as any of Us had thought. You see, once we all stopped panicking and had at least half of an idea of what was going on, we decided— we as a collective, not the person We, although I (again, I, the narrator, not I the person) suppose it would make more sense to you after explaining it— decided to take up different pseudonyms to help differentiate ourselves from each other. There was I, Me, Myself, Ego (inventively cobbled from our collective elementary grasp of Latin) and We, who had jokingly taken up the royal first person singular as their pseudonym. That was the five of Us, working towards a goal we knew we could only accomplish together, even if we were all the same.

We was the first to step through the exit and, consequentially, the first to dissolve into a fine blue dust.

The rest of Us knew all knew what that dust was, obviously. We (collectively, although We did spearhead most of the research) had had to study its properties intensively to learn how to manipulate the world all of Us were trapped in with enough staying power to open the portal before Us. Pure data, broken down into its most basic form. Those of Us still standing looked at each other with grim understanding clouding each of our expressions. It was a possibility that had crossed each of our minds, a fact that each of Us knew without even having to ask the others. If this world was all a simulation, who could say that we weren’t simulations ourselves? Who could say that We wasn’t?

Well, We was. Again, the dust fading before our eyes confirmed this.

After what felt like an eternity, I (the person, not the narrator) addressed the rest of the group. “All of Us knew this could happen. Hell, even We knew it could happen. But We still chose to take that step. Each of Us owe it to them to do the same.”

“But we aren’t certain,” Ego chimed in. “Not even We was. If We was certain, we all would have been. We all would have held hands and walked through together. Instead, we all sat and watched while We—“

“Each of Us!” Myself interrupted caustically. “If you’re talking about We, say We. If you’re talking about the group, use ‘Us.’ How the hell are any of Us supposed to know what you’re talking about if we can’t tell Us and We apart?”

Like a wound-up rubber band, Ego snapped back, “You know what I’m talking about! We was the best of us! If We was a simulation, how are any of us supposed to know if we aren’t one!?”

“That’s the point,” I retorted, cutting through the tension. “None of us can know for certain. W—“ I’s fist clenched as they caught their tongue. “Each of Us needs to make that choice for ourselves. Whether you decide to stay here and live a life you know to be false or take the risk and try for a chance at the real world is entirely up to you. I can’t make the choice for you. No one can. We made their choice, and the rest of Us should honor that. Now, all of Us need to choose.”

Silence once again enveloped the group, each waiting for anyone else to be the first one to speak. None of Us needed to be telepaths to know that the same thoughts were running through all of our heads. Logically speaking, the correct play for any of Us would be to wait for the others to step through and see what happened. After all, every simulated version of Us destroyed increased our own chances of being the real one. It was a morbid sort of economics, one that We had chosen to forgo entirely. While We had made their choice, however, the rest of Us weren’t so keen on falling into the unknown.

Finally, I (the narrator, though the other characters would refer to me as… well, Me) broke the silence. “The rest of Us should split up. Go back to our simulated lives, at least for a little while.” As expected, the rest of Us looked at me like I had grown a second head. Regardless, I continued, “Then, at some point, if any of Us want to try our hand at escaping, they should do it alone. That way, anyone else who tries to go through the portal won’t influence our decision. At least we won’t be terrified in the middle of a standoff like thi—“

“I would hardly call this a standoff,” I interrupted. “And regardless, if We made that choice, it’s hardly fair for the rest of Us to postpone it until we feel more comfortable.”

“The way I see it,” Myself mused, now slightly calmer, “We made that choice on their own. All of Us might be the same person, but that doesn’t mean we have to make the same mistakes. Besides,” their voice lowered as they continued, “I know the thought has crossed through all of our minds of coercing each other through the portal through… unsavory means.” The silence that followed Myself’s statement said more than anything, even if it was all information each of Us already knew. It was the saying it that made it true.

“…I like that idea,” Ego piped up. “If w— each of Us doesn’t know whether the others succeeded or failed, then the rest of Us aren’t going to factor into our decision. The only variable in play will be… well, whether we want the simulation to end, one way or another.”

I sighed in exasperation, knowing that Ego was right. At the same time, I sighed with relief.

And with that, each of Us went our separate ways. We still kept in touch, mostly just to check in on the portal and notify each other about exciting events in our simulated lives, but also as a sort of buffer. All of Us agreed not to meet in person after the day we made the portal, so the letters and phone calls were our way of letting each other know we were still around. I was the first to go, naturally; they could only bear the thought of not knowing for a few months. Ego, surprisingly, was the next to leave Us, exactly five years after the portal had been created, which felt appropriately theatric for the one of Us with a name in another language. Myself and I kept in touch for a while, actually, as the decades rolled past Us and our lives carried on. When they eventually decided to go, they invited me to see them off, though I declined, telling them I’d be joining them soon.

And so, all that’s left of us is me. Me. And soon, there won’t be much left of me either. I’ve lived a long life, even if it wasn’t in the real world, and as Ego said, I’m ready for the simulation to end, one way or another. Sure, there’s a part of me that hopes that I’ll awaken to find only seconds have passed while my mind spun itself into years, as well as a part of me that fears that I’ll see one of the others living the life I could have led in the moment before I crumble to dust. But more than anything else, I hope that when I get to the other side, I can find the rest of Us again. I do, after all, make for quite interesting company.