The glen was shaped like a ladle, a waterfall pouring down forty feet of limestone cliffside to a pool circled by marble, chalky stone, and flint. Enough water fell for the roar and mist to fill the air. Even so, there was a peaceful spirit to the glen, the kind you’d find tucked away in the wilderness on a deep hike.

“Hello, beautiful.”

I sighed. Apparently, I’d moved from aphorisms to pick up lines. Shaking my head, I knelt to drink my belly full. The water was clear, cool, and--most importantly to my stomach--there were fish darting about in the pool. Shelter first, I told myself. The day was darkening, and there wasn’t much time left to find a place to sleep. If necessary, I could return to the fissure in the rocks, but my feet were hurting badly. It was tempting to just pull together some fallen branches and make a lean-to against the cliff face.

As I dragged the first branch over, I heard the water echo. Was there a gap in between the water and the cliff? I dropped the branch and moved to investigate. A gap in the sheeting water randomly opened and closed, but I couldn’t see anything beyond it. I’d have to risk getting drenched for a better look.

“Excuse me, gentle lady, but needs demand I look behind your skirt.”

I froze. Did that really just come out of my mouth? What was going on with my brain? Had it turned to mush in the transformation from man to child? I wanted to slap myself. So I did. Not hard, but enough for the shock to wake me up from my muffled thoughts.

Feeling better, I pressed ahead, pushing through the sheeting water. The stone was slippery, and, small as I was, I was lucky I didn’t slip. I made it through though and saw an open space between the water and the stone.

The cave was ten feet wide and twenty feet deep, give or take. Moss covered the ground, but there was no evidence anything using the space as a den. It was mine if I wanted it. Which was all I needed to know, and I collapsed onto the moss. I’d pushed my body hard, and it would be pushed no more. Though my stomach complained, food would have to wait until tomorrow. In the meantime, I slept.

###

The next day, my body ached all over, and the scabs itched like mad. It was all I could do to sit on my hands to keep from scratching them off my face, my arms, my torso, just about everywhere really.

My feet looked ruined, with dried blood caked on my shoes and ankles. My hope was that it looked worse than it was, but I decided to wait to peel off my shoes. Another day would give the burst blisters and worn-away skin time to heal; hopefully enough not to tear open completely when the shoes came off. I could stand, but I winced with every step.

I left the cave to look for food. The fish in the pool would have to wait until I jury-rigged a fishing pole or spear. The best I could do right now was to gather fruit and vegetables, assuming I trusted them to be edible.

I was so hungry, it was like my body had never eaten before. Which was an interesting thought. So interesting, it circled inside my head for a while. I felt like I was thinking through cotton, but there was a thread attached to the thought that I wanted to pull on.

I peed as soon as I left the cave, but I didn’t feel the urge to do anything else. And that was after nearly a full day on this world. Pee. Pee. But no poop. What if there was nothing to poop? What if this body was brand new and had never eaten before? Ever.

When I saw my face yesterday, a part of me worried that my consciousness had taken over some poor kid’s body. Or the body was dead, and my consciousness reanimated it. Both scenarios turned my stomach, and I was glad to have evidence contradicting them. It was weird evidence, not entirely conclusive, but evidence all the same. All I needed to prove the hypothesis was not eat for another day to see if the no-poop thing held.

Which would provide me with proof that I was in a brand new body. Which was disturbing too, just not as disturbing as replacing someone else’s soul.

I found a stand of fennel, a plum tree, and a bush dotted with bright red berries. The fennel grew near the stream, so the soil was wet and soft. I dug it out with my hands. The plums, I carried in my shirt, and I left the damn berries alone. They looked like they’d bury a bear.

It was possible the fennel and plums were also poisonous on ths world, but I needed to eat something. Just not right then. I needed to wait to see if I pooped first. I put my head in my hands. If the situation wasn’t so traumatic, I’d laugh myself silly.

The afternoon passed slowly. I slept intermittently and rested to give my body time to recover. To give myself something to do--and fight the temptation to eat--I considered my circumstances. I’d read a lot of science fiction and fantasy, so the idea of alternate worlds wasn’t shocking; just actually being in one. The problem was in identifying what kind of alternate world I was in.

Was it a portal fantasy ala Joel Rosenberg’s Guardians of the Flame? Or maybe one of the more modern isekai versions coming out of Asia? I could also have been captured by an alien intelligence and put in a terrarium for observation. Or trapped in a bizarre virtual reality experience gone wrong, perhaps instituted by a rogue artificial intelligence reviving cryogenically frozen Portlanders from its past.

Okay, the last scenario was stretching things, but the fact that I couldn’t be absolutely sure was troubling. There wasn’t anything I could be confident about other than the experience was real. Well, actually, no. There was one thing--magic existed on this world. The Crow didn’t pull a rabbit out of his hoop. The snake was enormous, the head almost a foot across. No magic trick, that.

I had nothing better to do with my time, so I closed my eyes and felt for...the magic, force, qi, mana...whatever the world called it. For thirty minutes, I listened to the waterfall, but felt nothing. Nothing mystical anyway. I still itched terribly all over my body.

In the stories I’d read, the magic didn’t always come from outside. Sometimes it was powered by internal energies. I turned my attention inward. This was more familiar, as I started meditating and doing qigong after my wife Helen died. I’d actually tried a lot of things to find solace, but there were only a couple of disciplines that stuck.

At first, the pain in my feet dominated my attention, and I let it. The poor things went through heck yesterday. After a time, I became aware of my body’s other aches and pains. Eventually though, the discomfort faded into the background, and I found my way to my breath and the sensations of the cool air flowing through my nose, up and down my trachea, into and out of my lungs.

I kept my attention on my breath for an hour, immersed in the familiar feeling. Even the panic inside quieted. And once I reached a stable point of equanimity, I noticed a bubble under my thoughts. Curious, I prodded it with my attention.

An image appeared in my mind’s eye--my Android phone, except it was made of a silvery metal with a dark-copper band looped vertically around the screen. Looking closer, I saw the edges of sprockets in the gaps between the screen and its housing.

The “phone” turned on. Printed on the screen in English was:

Name Age 8 Strength 8 Constitution 8 Agility 8 Intelligence 8 Wisdom 8 Spirit 8 Charm 8 Luck 8

I couldn’t help as decades of tabletop gaming surged up. You might as well call me Eight with these numbers.

And then the screen updated:

Name Eight Age 8 Strength 8 Constitution 8 Agility 8 Intelligence 8 Wisdom 8 Spirit 8 Charm 8 Luck 8

I...ah...that was more of an observation, not a request. I don’t actually want to be called Eight. My name is Oliver. Ollie works too. Also, is there a help screen? Because I’d really like to know what’s going on.

If anyone was listening, they didn’t respond, and the name didn’t budge. I tried willing it to change, but the name Eight felt sturdy, like it was etched in the metal. After a couple of minutes, I gave up.

Apparently, I was now named Eight, and I was stuck on a world with a game system layered into it.