As I sliced through the throat of the final boss, a loud squishing sound resounded over the hall. With a mechanic pull of my sword, its yellow blood gushed out, and a metallic fragrance lingered in the air. Thanks to my finishing move, I defeated the Boss; thus I had completed the quest of the World’s End, my last assignment.


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    The system severed my connection to the test environment the moment I closed the notice. With a grunt, I crawled out of the VR capsule, my mind still foggy from the immersion. A voice, calm yet calculated, cut through my haze from behind me. “John, thank you for all your hard work. It saddens me that even your turn came up.”


    Sure, boss, like you really care. I smirked to myself. To show him how little his words mattered, I stayed silent, letting my gaze drift over the huge, echoing hall filled with old capsules. Only a few dim lights remained, tracing a path to the exit. This place once buzzed with people, but now it was just me, Lucy, and our annoyingly insincere boss.


    The department’s golden days felt like a distant memory, almost a lie. I gave a silent nod towards the last lit capsule across the hall. Good luck, Lucy, I thought, feeling a pang of loss for the one friend I had here.


    “Don’t worry,” he continued, with a thin, practiced smile. “I’m sure you’ll find another job.”


    “Save the fake sympathy,” I muttered, my voice rough, refusing to even glance his way. At least one good thing came with being let go—never having to deal with him again. “Tell Lucy I’ll miss her,” I added, my tone flat. She deserves better, too.


    Without looking back, I left the building at a steady pace, my hands curled into balls. I became a lone wolf. As I walked on the streets, I met crowds of robots going their ways, but only a few actual people. If you didn’t play the game, or you were going outside, players called you “a wolf”, as in a lone wolf. Normal people were communicating only in the game. The robots that humankind created were doing their jobs instead.


    Like any other day, I made my way to the small bar wedged between two towering luxury apartment complexes. They loomed above, crowding the building in shadow, as if mocking the place’s lack of sunlight. The developer even claimed it was an advantage—no blazing sun hitting the windows.


    I smirked at the memory of me and the guys moving his German car to a river bank before stepping inside. Entering felt like stepping back into simpler times. I gave a nod to the old man behind the bar and slid onto my favorite stool. Hello, sadness. Patrick had already started pouring a whiskey, our usual ritual. A whiskey to fill the void.


    Though he was well past 80, his hands remained steady—a small blessing from medical advances. When he caught sight of my expression, he raised an eyebrow. “Is it over? Did they let you go?”


    With a pained smile, I lifted my head just enough to watch his hands pour. Even me. He cleared his throat to remind me of his question, and I finally responded, “Yeah. Guess I’m a wolf now.”


    “Even the last tester of the game?” he muttered, setting another glass in front of me. I didn’t respond, just downed half of it and turned to stare out the small, blocked-in window. Darkness greeted me, with the neighboring building just inches away.


    My gaze drifted to an old, faded photo hanging proudly on the wall. I polished off the whiskey. “Your bar hasn’t changed a bit in a hundred years.” The photo showed his Irish grandfather, beaming, standing beside some old celebrity who’d signed it. The signature was nearly gone now, lost to time.


    Patrick sighed and shook his head. “Machines took over everything! End of the world, if you ask me. Never thought I’d say it.” He polished a glass, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not getting any younger. My sons and grandsons, they’re all playing that game, and most of my regulars… well, they’re in the graveyard now. You and a few others are the only thing keeping me here. If you go, I may just cave and sell this place to that snot-nosed brat.”


    I must’ve had at least ten drinks as we went on about how everything used to be better and how the world was barreling toward doom. Just the usual Friday. By then, I was a little tipsy, words slipping out easier. “Everything changed twenty years ago when my old company launched the learning AI. At first, we thought it would improve things—simple manual labor and all…”If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Patrick chuckled, shaking his head. “I told you back then, lad. The Terminator had it right; they’re going to wipe us all out.”


    “Oh, really? I don’t think so!” I blurted out, my voice rising. My conscience kicked in, reminding me not to bother anyone, so I glanced around the bar. Nobody in sight. “AIs are everywhere, sure, but did we ever fight them? Did we lose some great war? No, we gave up on this world ourselves. Moved to the game, to the new one. And communism won, thanks to that universal income from the AI tax. Not because it was better—but because it was the only option left. I hate it.”


    Patrick gave a weary nod. “You’re right, lad. The commies got in through the youth. I saw it with my own eyes. Now I can’t even order a whiskey without a robot handling it.” He shook his head in exasperation, his voice trailing into the familiar grumble I’d heard so many times before. “Imagine it, robots, making whiskey!”


    “Patrick, if I could get into the game, I’d go there too,” I admitted, voice quieter, my gaze fixed on the amber liquid in my glass.


    Yet I couldn’t.


    I was spilling my sob story to anyone who’d listen—about being a tester, banned from the game. “Made by Nathan. The so-called savior of humanity. He got cozy with the government, forcing everyone to play his game. Except me; I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”


    “Savior, my ass, lad. When I was young, we worked hard for our money—not sitting around, playing video games and cashing government checks!”


    “Hey, that was my job, old man! The only job I could do. I was QA, testing the game’s new expansions.” Patrick tensed up, probably on the edge of telling me to can it. Today he held back, though; yesterday, he nearly tossed me out when I started whining about this same thing for the hundredth time.


    “Nothing beats the real thing, lad,” he said after a pause. “You know the best night of my life? With my wife on a beach in Costa Rica. No simulation could ever touch that.”


    I sneered. He obviously hadn’t played the game—it had thousands of places better than some random coast. “Maybe, but as things stand, I’m out of a job. Not a single bug in over five years, so they kicked out their best exploiter.”


    I took a long sip, letting the thought sink in. People were choosing to live in a game, all voluntarily. Maybe I should go rewatch The Matrix. Here I was, sounding like some old man yelling at clouds. “So what now? Am I supposed to live like a wolf? There’s no job for someone like me. I was too dumb for college; video games were all I had. Commie tax barely covers…” I pushed my empty glass forward with a sigh. “More whiskey, please.”


    After a while, some scruffy, fifteen-year-old punk in a brown coat popped up in front of me. Right, that’s my cue. I’ve had enough. I scanned the bar for Patrick to settle my tab, but he was nowhere in sight. Maybe he’d slipped into the back.


    “Hi there, John!”


    What the…? I squinted at the kid, feeling a bit wobbly. “Since when do my delusions talk?”


    “Don’t worry about that! I don’t have time—look!” He thrust his hands forward, palms up. In his left hand was a red pill, and in his right, a murky green one.


    “You’ve got a choice. Take the red pill, and I’ll push your memory as far back as I can! My dad’s the warden, running all these sims, so I wanted to mess around! MATRIX MAN!”


    “Whoa, slow down. What the hell are you talking about? How much did I drink?”


    “Easy, man! I came from the future, and my dad’s running these sims to pass the time. Or to figure why the game is so weird? Dunno. We’re in a sim, too! No idea how deep it goes. Isn’t it awesome?”


    “Ugh, I think I’m gonna throw up…”


    “Then take the blue pill, and I’ll find someone else to bug.”


    “Blue? Kid, that’s green. If you’re gonna be a hallucination, at least get your colors right.”


    “Aw, man, I was going for THE Morpheus vibe. The Matrix is the best historical film, you know?” He shrugged. “Anyway, take the red one. How could it be worse than your current situation? My dad’s ending this sim soon, but I can transfer you to one that repeats to my present—and beyond!”


    A wave of nausea hit as the world spun around me. “Slow down, punk! My head’s pounding, and you’re making it worse.”


    “No time! My old man’s wrapping things up any minute now. Hurry, take it!”


    I bit my lip to keep from hurling and glared at the kid. Time for my go-to drunken philosophy. “If we’re all just simulations, what’s the point of living?”


    “Dude, that’s, like, the deep question. I live because I want to. If you care, check out the people who kicked this whole thing off. Or they’re here because they’re bad? Dunno. But they call themselves the Ring of Smiling People.”


    I gave him a bleary look and sighed, feeling too sick to argue. “Fine. Hand it over.” I grabbed the red pill and swallowed it down. It wasn’t an aspirin, because my head still throbbed. “Hey, punk! What did you do?”


    “Chill! I’m reloading your sim. I’m sending you back twenty years, just before the game started.” With that, he vanished. Weird kid. Now, where was a bucket I could puke into?


    In an instant, a calm darkness enveloped me. The tipsiness vanished, leaving my head and body clear. What? I opened my eyes to a familiar sight—a room. My room. What the hell? Why was I staring at the grimy ceiling in my apartment? Did I black out and someone dragged me home?


    I rolled over and grabbed my phone. The date wasn’t right.


    Oh, no. No, no, no. Did that mean… everything the punk said was true? Was I in a simulation, within another simulation? And why was I back twenty years? Can I freak out now? My mind raced, piecing it together. I’ve actually time-traveled!


    ***


    In a spacious meeting room, six men sat around a round table. Nathan, a tall man in his late twenties with a long, pointed chin and an oddly shaped nose, stood up.


    “Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of our organization, it is my pleasure to welcome you to our highly anticipated twentieth rebirth. As previously agreed, we have decided to begin just one day before the game’s launch. Regrettably, Jeffrey, I must inform you that we cannot accommodate your request to start earlier—it would compromise the integrity of fate. Furthermore, during our routine checks, we detected an anomaly that demands our immediate attention.” His gaze swept over the group with a stern intensity, as though searching for a culprit.


    “Dear colleagues, we have discovered that, during transportation, an individual was inadvertently brought back with us. I strongly recommend we initiate a thorough investigation and take all the necessary measures to eliminate any potential threats. In this rebirth, the seed will be within our grasp. We cannot afford any missteps; we must act diligently to locate and neutralize the source of this anomaly.”