Warren's eyes snapped open a mistake, in retrospect
Just moments ago, he'd been in a dim, decaying room. Now? Blinding light flooded his vision. The sudden contrast punched through his retinas like a flashbang. He hissed and quickly shut his eyes again, blinking several times as tears involuntarily welled up.
"I'm already starting to regret this, and it's been less than a minute."
When his vision finally adjusted, he found himself standing in a field surrounded by vibrant green grass that shimmered under the sunlight. The blades swayed in unison with the breeze, gentle and unbothered by the horrors he was told awaited him.
But what truly shocked Warren wasn't the scenery.
It was himself.
A few moments ago, he'd been lanky—malnourished from years of ration packs and borderline starvation. Now? His chest felt broad. His shoulders were firm. His sunken stomach had been replaced by a lean, toned set of abs that wouldn't look out of place in a fitness magazine. His jaw felt sharper. Even his vision—once blurry and dull—was crisp and alert.
It was like he'd become someone else entirely.
That thought was quickly shattered when he tried to stretch and accidentally cracked his back in three places.
'Yep. Still me.'
Not just his body had changed—his clothes had too.
He now wore a pair of flexible pants that felt somewhere between high-end sweatpants and lightweight armor. The material was strange—soft as silk, yet durable like leather. His shirt, made from the same alien fabric, was a clean white and hugged his body perfectly.
'Is this what it feels like to wear something tailored just for you? Some lucky bastard out there gets to feel like this every day without risking their life in . . .ugh . . .hmm . . . what ever this is.'
After examining his body a strange sensation washed over him. He felt joy and even a little bit of wonder.
'I take it back. No regrets at all.'
But body admiration would have to wait.
He had no idea where he was or what came next.
Warren strolled through the field with no urgency. For the first time in his life, he could breathe clean air. No pollution. No smoke. Just the soft whisper of the wind and the warmth of the sun on his face. It was so surreal, he wanted to bottle the moment.
He knew it wouldn't last. if the outskirts taught one lesson it was that nothing good ever lasts.
As he neared the edge of the field, the landscape shifted. Dark trees rose ahead tall, rich brown trunks with thick bark and thick vibrant leaves. They looked… alive. Not like the dying, withered husks he'd occasionally seen back home, planted in concrete by the state for appearances.
This was the first tree he'd ever seen that had life in it.
He paused, admiring the bark's texture, running his fingers over it. It felt cool and rough it felt real, not simulated. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and entered the forest.
The canopy dimmed the light, casting long shadows over the soft earth. The deeper he walked, the more tranquil it became yet it wasn't silent. A sound reached him. Strange and unfamiliar. It sounded distant, but constant violent yet rhythmic. It was oddly soothing, odd because Warren had never been soothed before so the entire experience was a little off putting for him.
'How can something be violent and calming at the same time?'
Lost in thought he failed to notice his surroundings before he realized he had begun to fall.
Warren's foot had been caught on a thick root protruding from the ground. His body tilted forward, fast. Instinct kicked in. His reflex's seemed to be quicker with the more lean body. He twisted in midair, arms tucking, shoulders rolling. He hit the ground and tumbled forward, rolling twice before stopping himself now in a low crouch position.
'Huh. I felt the impact, but it didn't really hurt. Is this what having muscles is like? Had I known the benefits, maybe I would've worked out before throwing my life away to some cursed app.'
He stood slowly, dusting himself off.
After reorienting himself he noticed the violent calming thrashing sound had grown even louder the rhythm called to him. Curiosity piqued, he carefully navigated through the trees, this time avoiding any treacherous roots that might try to so unceremoniously end his journey before it truly begins.
Then he saw it.
Endless water.
A vast, shimmering body stretched out before him, crashing against the rocky shore he stood on. Waves rose and fell, slamming into the cliffs in bursts of white foam. The horizon swallowed the sun as the sky shifted into a brilliant orange gradient.
If he had to choose just one word to describe it, it would be: Beautiful
Warren had never really used that word much—not because he didn't know what it meant, but because nothing in the outskirts had ever deserved it. From the trash-strewn streets to the crumbling buildings, beauty always felt like something meant for someone else… or somewhere else.
'This place is already better than the real world. Shame on whoever called it "vile" and "filled with destruction." I have half a mind to believe someone made that up just to keep this place to themselves. What a sick move to hide paradise behind a warning label.'
Warren stood in silence for a while, letting the breeze cool his skin.
As the sun dipped lower, the air began to chill, and he turned back toward the tree line. Finding a soft patch of grass beneath one of the larger trees, he sat down, leaning against its trunk.
The crashing waves echoed in the distance. The dark trees swayed gently above him. And for once in his life, he felt calm.
Tonight, there would be no hunger. No cold cement walls. No flickering lights. No guilt filled glances from Lena. No fear.
Just... peace.
He drifted off to the sound of the ocean, the wind, and a world that for now felt far kinder than the one he had know for the past 18 years.
'I could get used to this. Feels like a home away from home, if I'd ever had one to begin with.'