Simulacra News: News Better than Truth Thousands of tourists visit the Egyptian pyramids every year, often unaware of the hidden dangers and ancient mysteries guarded by the cults of the Sun and the Crocodile within the pyramids. These two secret organizations have existed continuously since the time of the first pharaohs, and perhaps even before…
Thousands of tourists visit the Egyptian pyramids every year, often unaware of the hidden dangers and ancient mysteries guarded by the cults of the Sun and the Crocodile within the pyramids. These two secret organizations have existed continuously since the time of the first pharaohs, and perhaps even before them.
I managed to establish contact with an adept of the cult of Ra, the sun god. Everyone in the area simply calls him Hassan, but within the inner circle of the initiated, he is known as Huknaputra, the guide who leads the ignorant. When you visit the pyramids, you might accidentally wander into a place where you shouldn’t be. Or perhaps you will get lost, and then seemingly out of nowhere, an unfamiliar young boy emerges from the ground and offers help to navigate the labyrinth. This is Hassan, my guide into first level of knowledge.
I try to ask him about the no-go zones, where the “ignorant” are not allowed to venture. I can barely withstand Huknaputra’s penetrating gaze, but I patiently wait to hear what he says.
“It’s not about where, but rather where and when. Solar cycles, eclipses, comets—everything can activate the mechanisms hidden within the pyramids, which ordinary mortals cannot lay their eyes upon.”
I ask him what happens if someone has seen too much. “We have our people. I’m sorry, my friend, but there are no exceptions,” responds Hassan with a stern gaze.
“We will visit someone special whom I want you to meet,” Huknaputra continues.
The heat is taking a toll on my physical condition, yet my guide appears fresher and healthier than ever. He catches my gaze and comments,
“We are the children of the sun. It gives us energy. We have a different biology. We transform heat into life. Something that might kill a normal human being feels like a spring breeze to us.”
I try to provoke him by asking if he believes he is a human or something else, but there is no time. I find myself at the secret cult headquarters.
Khathamatris, the first-level honor guard. If you have seen too much, as Hassan mentioned, “There are no exceptions.” So, if you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, it is highly likely that they will proceed with your execution. Privately, they are truly pleasant and cheerful individuals.
There is no time for lengthy conversations with the honor guard, as I am being led to the highest representative of the sect, His Holiness, Archpriest Hothepuhti VI, the Grand Mage of the Sun, the one who is meant to bridge the gap between us, ordinary people, and the gods.
I cover the last 100 meters alone, while my guardians look at the High Priest with a mixture of respect and apprehension, hesitating to approach any closer.
It is difficult to describe the vast wisdom of Hothepuhti VI in its entirety. Not only his words, but also his gestures and the profound depth of his gaze, reveal centuries of tradition, knowledge accumulation, experience, and the immense scale and perspective.
I ask His Eminence, the High Priest, why he decided to have this conversation. “We have chosen to reveal ourselves in order to strengthen faith in the ancient gods,” the High Priest explains in a resonating voice. I notice that he doesn’t mention a word about the information leak on the black market, which they would not be able to stop anyway.
However, Hothepuhti VI clearly senses my disbelief and seemingly anticipates it. He quickly says:
𓇼𓈖𓅓𓄿𓎛𓈖𓂋𓏪𓂧𓅂𓅢𓎠𓂋𓅱𓏪𓏲𓅓𓎠𓈖𓄿𓏥𓂋𓎛𓇼 (“𓇼Ask me three questions of your choice, and you shall receive the answers today𓇼” – rough translation to English)
Therefore, slightly stumbling through the language, I swiftly ask my first question: 𓇼𓈖𓅓𓄿𓎛𓈖𓂋𓏪𓂧𓅂𓅢𓎠𓂋𓅱𓏪𓏲𓅓𓎠𓈖𓄿𓏥𓂋𓎛𓇼, which means something like, ‘How great is your organization?’
From that point on, the conversation tests my knowledge of Ancient Egyptian. I barely connect the symbols to their meanings, feeling as if I am not only listening to the High Priest but also receiving cosmic vibrations from him.
He spoke softly and calmly, yet the depth of his tone vibrated through my attire as if I were standing next to a speaker at a techno party.
The sand beneath my feet seemed to levitate in the air.
Hothepuhti VI unfolds a vision of an organization that permeates the official apparatus of control and is widespread.
“We are everywhere, we can be anyone. A cultist can be anyone you least expect. They can be Ahmed the barber, a salesperson, or an architect. They can trade oil or beg on the streets.“
“I, for example, have two covers. From 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., I drive a Ford Transit and distribute vegetables and fruits, and in the evenings, I teach yoga at fitness club.” resonates the deep voice of the High Priest.
I proceed with my next two questions: I’m seeking contact with the Crocodile People, the second sect present in the region. And thirdly, after a moment of hesitation, I gather the courage to ask, “If you wish to proclaim the greatness of the ancient gods to the people, what arguments do you have?”
The face of the High Priest instantly brightens with a wide smile. “Today, you will witness with your own eyes what we are capable of. Get your camera ready, I want you to record and show this to others. I will perform the ritual of summoning the Crocodile People for you. Be cautious, they are not like us. Their evolution ceased ages ago; they are different.”
High Priest Hothepuhti VI leads me along the familiar path above the sacred Nile River. There, a group of about 20 people awaits us, dressed in robes adorned with ancient hieroglyphs. I didn’t have much time to observe the present cultists as I was asked to prepare the camera for a photo session.
“You must remain in this spot. Whatever you see, don’t be afraid. You are safe with us.”
Hassan appears out of nowhere and quickly instructs me.
“Now, the High Priest will perform the ritual of summoning the Crocodile People. As the first uninitiated, you will witness the power of the true gods of Egypt.”
I have a feeling that I’m about to witness a rabbit being pulled out of a hat and I have the urge to burst out laughing. But I’m here to uncover the truth, whatever it may be. So, obediently, I set up the photographic equipment, cameras, and tripods.
The High Priest submerges himself in the Nile, and then… something indescribable happens, something you must see for yourselves.
The sun was setting, and the High Priest immersed himself in the water. When he resurfaced, he was sitting on something resembling a stone crocodile. Just when I thought I could grasp mentally what I was seeing, the High Priest and his “vehicle” changed shape. The crocodile turned red, and the figure of the priest began to ripple and mutate. I discreetly glanced around, and Hassan and his companions had their hands raised towards the sun. Their hands and fingers intertwined in the shape of a pyramid, and the sunlight streamed through the gaps, illuminating their faces. Other than that, they appeared completely normal; I wasn’t hallucinating.
I gazed toward the High Priest. His silhouette, as well as the vehicle and everything around, undulated as if water ripples were spreading through reality.
Emerging from the Nile, one by one, were the tops of heads, then foreheads, ears, and the rest, filthy from the river mud. Crocodile-headed beings emerged before my eyes, slowly coming ashore and cleaning their bodies. They snapped their jaws, revealing unnaturally large teeth. Hassan gently pushes me towards them. “You can approach now,” he says, leading me to the Crocodile People.
Two guards bring a basket of raw meat and start placing its pieces on metal trays. “This is for them, our offering,” Hassan explains.
The Crocodile People lick their lips eagerly, but other than that, both groups remain silent. Neither of them has uttered a word since the ritual. The High Priest emerges from the Nile, surrounded by several guards. He seems barely conscious, weakly waving his hand as if bidding farewell. I have no time to react, as Hassan quickly brings the first Crocodile Person to me, positioning them for the photographs and stepping aside.
Hassan instructs me.
“Know that the power you have witnessed here has been ancient, even before our earliest ancestors arrived on the banks of the Nile thousands of years ago.”
“Do your job, and show them what you’ve captured. We want every person in the world, regardless of whether they are from Europe, Asia, or Africa, to see what the ancients are capable of.”
“That’s all you were supposed to see. The sun has set, and night has fallen. The enchantment of this performance didn’t dissipate; on the contrary, it kindled my curiosity. Come, it’s time for us. I’ll escort you home,” Hassan said. I didn’t protest because, at the same time, he laid a friendly, yet firm, hand on my shoulder. I decided not to test how strong his grip was. After all, I admit that I had witnessed a great deal that day.
I faithfully recount everything, just as High Priest Hothepuhti VI and his devoted followers of the cult of the Sun God Ra desired.
And what happened to the human-crocodile beings? Did they return to the Nile?
All I know is this: when I boarded Hassan’s car, without a word, two newcomers from the depths of the river occupied the back seats. Crocodile gentlemen had no intention of going back to the Nile.
Instead, I assume they are doing what the High Priest spoke of—expanding their network, establishing new connections, and corrupting more officials.
They infiltrate administrations, courts, offices, schools—starting locally and then nationwide. In a globally interconnected world, borders are merely relics. Yes, they are already here, and they don’t even make an effort to conceal it.
MODDING SIMULACRA 
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