Reasons

We were having lunch together, just the three of us - small Asian place, nice enough. My brother was just telling us about the naked mole rat; how they live in colonies, the queen suppressing the fertility of other females, similar to ants. Not an unusual experience, both my wife and I were used to learning something new every time we met him, every time we had a chat. Little did we know this was going to be the last time we were going to talk to him with him talking back to us.

I remember him telling me all sorts of things as I was growing up, he was always reading something or other. He taught me about computers, he was the one who made me excited about maths and science just by being there.

I remember him caring for our dog Muri, he was so soft and sweet with him - loving. I remember the long walks with our parents and our sister Živa along the beautiful coastline of Izola, our home town.

He was the smartest person I have ever known by a mile, yet humble and never boastful - truly a gentle giant.

He liked his space. We had an unspoken agreement; see each other every 2-3 weeks, go for a coffee or a lunch during the weekend, have a nice chat for a couple of hours - we didn’t bother each other much otherwise. For us, the love we had for each other as brothers was impossible to miss - perhaps others might not have understood.

Lojze passed away on the 14th of December 2025.

We had come back to Berlin the day he was admitted - an infection and its complications - we were at the end of an 18 hour journey home from Japan. But we didn’t find out then; nobody could call us because they didn’t know we existed.

It was just like him to not provide an emergency contact anywhere. He was incredibly smart, but some things just didn’t work for him, some things weren’t of the same importance as to us others.

The day after I returned to Berlin I travelled again - for work this time - to Paris and then on to Milan. But I wouldn’t have gone if I had known then what I know now; that my brother was in a coma. For 12 days I lived in blissful ignorance.

Repercussions

Going through the complexity of a dear one passing away is hard for anyone. The same in Germany for a foreigner is harder still; gathering documents, arranging for the cremation, and everything else.

The work started right away - ensuring that we had a funeral home. This wasn’t really the hard thing though, the hard thing was the waiting for offices to get the documentation together, to issue the certificates so the funeral home would be able to proceed with the cremation.

As it was the Christmas season they said it might take a while to process everything. Each passing day feels as though I am wading deeper in molasses, battling delay after delay, inching slowly and painfully closer. Each step made the hole a little bigger, adding a sprinkle of salt into the wound and pressing it in. I wanted them to get everything done, but I dreaded it too.

The stress of wondering when the cremation would happen pressed heavy on my heart, I kept going back to what had happened, thinking of all the ways I had failed him (I hadn’t), of all the things I could have done differently (I couldn’t), going through all the ifs, buts, and maybes. It took over a month for us to get the message that the papers were ready - January 19th - then we started the next wait - the wait in line for the crematorium to have a slot.

Another week passes, still not done, wait a couple more days, I can feel the pressure mounting in my heart, a stone pushing down on it, I can feel it crushing me.

I have the support I need, a wife you could only wish for, a family who loves and grieves with me, a chosen family of friends who support whatever the situation. The pain still stands, though, the waiting still hurts.

Then we get word, he has been cremated (eingeäschert as they say in Germany). But now, another complication - we need to transport him ourselves, delivery companies don’t do it anymore - reasons unknown.

Complications

We prepare everything we need to travel, ensure we have the right documentation, make sure to get to the airport on time, the date - 5th of February 2026 - flight at 6 AM. We get through security, manage the discussion with the police about the ashes, get some breakfast and a coffee. We get on the plane, thinking we are ready to go, the weather is dreadful - ice rain - the plane is getting de-iced, we will leave soon.

Ten minutes pass since the process started, the ice is still there, we can see the crew getting restless, a passenger with a sour face comes up and speaks to the crew, demands to be let off the plane, the ice is still there.

A few minutes pass, the pressure mounts, and the same man approaches the staff again - he thinks he is funny, but he is just being annoying.
Next we get the dreaded announcement, we cannot fly and we will be delayed. They try to placate us, don’t worry we will be back soon enough, just need to deboard first, wait in the terminal.

We didn’t know at the time, but this was not a walk in the park, it was a marathon. Every hour a notification, every hour a further delay. By 10 AM we were delayed until 11:30 AM, at 11 AM we were departing at 1:45 PM, 1 PM meant 4:15 PM.

This kept going on, no clarity, no information, the flight isn’t even on the board anymore, are we even flying? The stress swelling inside me, the fear that we weren’t going to make it to Slovenia on time boiling over, like an angry pot on the stove. I didn’t mention it yet, did I? We are supposed to be in Slovenia the next day at 9 AM for the service … so are my brother’s ashes, the ones in my suitcase.

As 5 PM rolls around, we hear a faint announcement on the PA system (barely audible) - the flight to Trieste is boarding now, no gate mentioned, where is it boarding? How do we get there? The panic is real, we are trying to find out, I run to another gate, ask a member of the ground crew. “B35” they respond, quickly. We are off to the races, we get to the gate, get on the bus, get on the plane. “We are leaving soon”, that was my thought, as I am sitting in the first row, next to the open door, freezing cold. The crew say little to us. However, I can hear them talking about waiting for a colleague. I try to keep calm, all the while listening to their conversation in Italian, they don’t know I can understand them so they talk freely. They don’t seem too confident on the next steps. Just a couple of minutes turns into an hour, then an hour and a half, the door is still open, we are now wearing coats, a scarf, a beanie. Freezing, shivering, thirsty, worried, stressed.

The rest of the passengers are getting restless, asking why we cannot close the doors? “Why do we need to stay in the cold?”, “Close the door!”, “Can we get some water?”, “Can we leave the plane?” - all reasonable questions, reasonable expectations. The crew start saying it will take a little longer, slowly relent to the demands to close the doors.

We are warmer now, but the feeling in the plane is pure stress, I can feel the people worrying, I can hear and see them desperate to get off the aircraft. I can hear the children getting restless. “I’m hungry!” “Can we get some water?”, the crew responds: “You have to pay for the water.”
We are now over two hours into this ordeal, it’s after 7 PM, no clarity on when we should depart - or if we will at all. The crew are now blaming the airport, I am sure the airport would be blaming the crew.

We are still parked in the same place we boarded, we cannot disembark - there isn’t any ground crew to help and direct us. We are stuck on the plane, no clarity on what is next, waiting for a notification.

It arrives at 7:30 PM, “Your captain speaking, the flight is canceled for today, the airport has been closed, and we are third in line for deboarding”.
I don’t remember what else he says, my heart drops into the pit of my very being, the stress is too much, I feel like I will burst into tears and my wife already has. It is over, we cannot make it in time, by the time we are off the plane, we will have been at the airport for 18 hours. There are no alternative paths which will lead us to Izola by 9 AM next morning.

I feel deflated, I feel sad, I feel angry. There is nothing to do, so I try to let it go, the proverbial milk is spilled, no use crying over it. We will try again tomorrow, try flying again at 9:30 AM, inform the family so we can set up contingency plans. “We will have the ceremony in absentia” - not the actual words, but that is how it felt, it would have been appropriate to use Latin, for Lojze.

Deflated and defeated we make our way back to our home, or at least try. The trains aren’t running into town, we can see the high-speed FEX coming to the airport station, but it just speeds past. We look for other options - it doesn’t work - we give up and get a Taxi.

On the way back to our apartment we stop for kebab at our local. Finally home, we sit down, try to relax, and enjoy our “dinner”, the second real meal of the day, the one before was “riesen Bockwurst”.

Soon we collapse into bed, no need to unpack, we will try again tomorrow.

Overland

We wake up early again and drive to the airport, the weather looks much better (but the ground is still icy). As we cross the road two strangers stop us - the airport is closed, indefinitely.

Damn.

Oh no.

This is time for action, not for waiting around, we will never get there in time, but if we don’t do something we won’t be getting there at all. A plan formed in my head: get a rental car, drive 12 hours, be there in time to see the family, we will find something we can do. I reserve a car on my phone as we are walking to the counter. Wait in line, feel stressed about the fact we might not get a car, listen in to conversations to understand whether we need to get a car in town. Next in line, explain the situation, yes, they have a car, get it and get ready to go.

The drive is long, thankfully the roads are now almost dry, wet around Berlin, but ever drier as we move south. It ends up being uneventful, but still stressful, making sure we are safe, stopping often enough, worrying about fuel in Austria before we cross the border into Slovenia. We started at 8:30 AM, we got there at 9 PM, almost exactly 12 hours late for the service. We hug our family, we thank the fates for a safe journey home.

The next day we had a family lunch, plum dumplings. Lojze would have loved those - covered in butter and crumbs, with a bit of brown sugar on top. We celebrate him in ways we can muster.

“So long, and thanks for all the fish” - the quote that comes into my mind from the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. I wish him the best, even though I don’t believe in an afterlife.

A niggling thought is forming in my mind, connections are formed, theories abound. Is this world really a simulation? Who runs it? Could they be someone we loved?

Explanations

Day 19,293

Had lunch with my brother and his wife today and explained the fascinating life-forms that I designed, these naked mole rats. I explained to them how I made them similar to ants. They are mammals but act differently, I just thought it might provoke some thought in the nodes.

They both engaged well and found it amusing. I could see the simulation substrate move towards them as new ideas occurred to them, their bodies glowing to my eyes as they reconfigured. “They” don’t know about the experiment I am running, they don’t know that this is the last time we will meet. Thinking of the next steps and how they will react to the inevitable changes makes me sad.

They will be traveling across the world in a couple of days, experiencing the engagement of a different culture. They might end up understanding some of the shared reality by learning about the Japanese segment. Matjaž went as far as learning the language, I always found it interesting how his personality developed through time, my interests in technology translated well to him. I always disliked Italian, other languages didn’t interest me much either, he seems to take to them like fish to water. Not influencing the course intentionally has always been part of the protocol, as such I observe, not change - but closeness means influence, no matter how hard I try not to.

Day 19,322

The day of extraction has come, I need to return to the main console to continue monitoring the overall simulation, my little jaunt in the system will be over soon. I wish I could skip this, but the situation has gotten out of hand, some of the parameters have drifted too far, and the adjustment ability I have while observing is much diminished.

I will be hurting them. However, there is no other way.

They will know I care for them, I told them all I could and shared my interests. I explained my construction of historical facts like ancient Rome, the movements of Roma in Europe, the cultural implications of games.

The time has come for curtains.

Day 19,325

They still don’t know that the vessel lies in the hospital. I am now operating the system directly from my control room, the visibility I have is vast and wide, I can now start adjusting the parameters that were outside my reach. Still, I find myself going close to see how they are doing, Matjaž in Berlin, Živa in Scotland, mum and dad in the hometown of Izola.

None of them know yet that I have left. They will in time, I will not interfere.

Day 19,335

This is the day they found out the vessel is in the hospital, the doctor telling them about the complications - how I was transported and the time I slipped out. It was the most plausible explanation I could manufacture, there was no “other” to inhabit the vessel so I could leave with it intact, it had to be discarded.

I can see their pain on the monitor, it’s 30% above projections, I didn’t expect them to react so strongly. I wonder if their attachment transcends the simulated composition. Are they actually feeling anything from my real self? They keep talking to the vessel, I can tune in to their voices, Matjaž keeps jumping between languages, keeps trying to amuse me, he always does that when he is nervous. His wife is there to see it as well, support him, and feel hope together.
I wonder what will happen when they find out it will not improve.

Day 19,342

They have been coming every day since they found out, always talking to it and making sure it feels seen. The vessel, I find myself jealous of it, I used to be the one they would talk to, are they still in their minds? They just found out that I am not there anymore, the doctors informed them that it is the end of the line, they will disconnect the support systems soon.

Waiting next to the bed, they show support, dedication, love, but it will not be today. Stillness will come tomorrow, today it will still continue breathing. I am waiting for them to leave.

Day 19,343

The vessel is now stopped. No more laboured breathing, no more pain for it (there was none at any point), but the pain now starts for the ones who remain. I can see them hurting, and the pain affects me - still, I must continue my efforts.

Day 19,390

I can see my old vessel being obliterated, turned into ash, and prepared for transportation. Wait…what kind of transportation? I panic - they mean to send it on a plane?
I might not be ‘there’ anymore, but this is not something I will accept.

Backporting some changes to the big carriers: “last month they decided they will not transport any more ashes, the decision was made to minimise risk to their reputation because of lost remains”. Good, this means they will need to transport it themselves, I see they have plane tickets, we will cross that bridge when we get there.

Day 19,396

I am really sorry for what must happen next, but there is just no way I will allow my ashes to fly. I hate flying - the distance from central nodes is too great, observation is less viable, the density of data is too low. Adjusting the weather to make it impossible to fly in the morning should nudge them towards driving. I always wanted us to go for a road-trip to Slovenia, they will have to do it now.

Stubborn little things aren’t they, still waiting for the plane. I even nudged Matjaž to think about renting a car, but he just keeps hoping. I will just have to make sure the flight never leaves. The airport is already in a state of disarray, just a little nudge here, a little push there. Nice level of chaos, this will surely keep them in Berlin! As a side effect I will not need to be next to that large crowd, well, my urn will not need to be there.

Day 19,397

How are they still insisting on a flight? I thought I had meddled enough to show them that they will just “not fly”. I’ll just make sure they don’t. The airport is now closed “indefinitely”.

Good, get into that car and go for the road trip we always talked about. Matjaž can do it, he has no trouble driving for a long time.

Day 19,398

Closure today, they will ensure I am spread across the globe by doing as I planned, always reliable, aren’t they?

Time to return to my regular duties… I still don’t understand why that orange blob got into power, it must be some kind of malfunction - let me start the debugging routines.

Still some capacity left over, let me keep an eye on them just for a bit longer…