Sivr-146-------- -

He was in a room. Not a virtual green screen studio or a pornographic set with soft lighting and a bed in the middle. It was an actual room. A living room, circa 1998. A bulky CRT television sat in the corner, displaying a test pattern. A landline phone rested on a doily. The air in the simulation felt thick, humid, smelling faintly of mildew and jasmine tea.

But as he passed the hallway mirror, he stopped. He could have sworn his reflection blinked a full second after he did. And in the corner of the glass, reflected behind him, was a floral-print couch he did not own. SIVR-146--------

He mashed the button for [WALK AWAY] . Nothing happened. The selection cursor hovered stubbornly over [TAKE HER HAND] . He was in a room

Kenji tore the headset off his face. He was in his apartment. The clock read 11:48 PM. Only one minute had passed. A living room, circa 1998