"We are like astronauts, forever stranded in orbit, who, having relinquished all hope of returning to Earth, begin to perceive the icy, lifeless splendor of the starry sky as their new home. And in this acceptance lies a certain, bitter freedom." A child draws the sun as a circle with rays. A scientist sees it as a raging thermonuclear inferno. Where does true reality reside? This is a journey from Husserl's phenomenology to Baudrillard's simulacra, from Plato's cave to the server racks of social networks. An essay on how we learned to live in a labyrinth with no exit, and why, knowing it to be a simulation, we still persist in drawing a warm sun. Perhaps this very gesture constitutes the last bastion of the human.