Carey Walsh opened his eyes to find himself gazing at a patch of clear blue sky framed by the boughs of tall trees standing over him. So peaceful here. A cool wind gusted over his body, and he was soothed by the gentle whisper of shuffling leaves.

Was he back home? Had all of it been a nightmare?

“Hello?” he called out. “Anyone? What is this?”

You like virtual reality? His stalker’s words replayed through his mind. I have just the game for you, Carey Walsh.

Just the game for you.

Could it be? Could all of this be a game? Just code?

But it felt so real!

He blinked several more times before chancing a look around. Unlike waking from regular sleep, he didn’t sense any of those obnoxious crusties in the corners of his eyes. His mouth didn’t taste stale or sour. There was no grogginess, fogginess, or need to gather his wits.

As he pushed himself into a sitting position, he took stock of the way his arms moved, his muscles flexed, his lungs continued to draw air. No superpowers that he could identify, but no weaknesses, either. Overall, he felt pretty good.

He looked around and saw nothing but forest. Immediately, he noticed something strange in his peripheral vision. He was hesitant to look down.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

He examined his body. Same pudgy midsection, pale skin, hairy legs—all of which he saw, in stark relief, because he was practically naked and dressed only in a pair of pale undershorts.

“Is this some kinda joke?” he asked, looking up at the sky.

He got up and brushed dirt off his ass and back. It was likely all players started off this way. But why would they send him here with absolutely nothing? Couldn’t he have started with a basic shirt and pants, carrying a basic sword?

“Hello?” he called out again.

The day was gradually dimming. The cool wind carried a chill now. He hugged himself and shivered.

“Hello? Anyone?”