The low hum of the computer was the soundtrack to my life. I opened my eyes, not because the sun was calling me, but because my bladder was protesting. The light entering the room didn't come from the window, which was blocked by a thick curtain, but from the incessant glow of the monitor displaying the login screen of yet another MMORPG.
My name is John Miller. Twenty-five years old, a university degree I've never used, and my main skill on a resume? Farming XP faster than inflation. In other words, unemployed... I mean, I make money selling game accounts, so technically I'm semi-unemployed.
Until I was seventeen, I was a card-carrying chuunibyou. My left arm wasn't for typing, but for containing the sealed power of an ancestral demon lord. Nonsense, of course. The only thing my arm contained was a tendency for cramps.
"Ahh..."
The sigh died in the stale air of the room, a mixture of instant noodles and cold pizza. It was the sour aroma of yesterday's noodles that knocked me out. Enough! I was tired of this diet of sodium and regret. The legendary hero I pretended to be had died of shame, but the common man left behind decided he had a new goal in life.
"I want to... eat real food!"
It wasn't for status, for a girlfriend, or for that so-called social life It was for my stomach. As the old saying goes, An army marches on its stomach. Well, the army was just me, but my stomach was on strike and demanded terms of surrender in the form of a juicy steak.
And to finance this operation, I needed... argh... a real job. That's when a flash of memory cut through the fog of my lethargy: two weeks ago, in a surge of productivity, I'd fired off my resume everywhere. And, to my amazement, a company had replied. The interview was today.
An electric shock of panic and determination jolted me. I jumped out of bed and ran to the closet, grabbing my only battle attire for the real world: a crumpled dress shirt and a pair of pants that, with luck, still fit. I put on my armor and combed my hair with my hands. Took a deep breath, and declared to the empty hallway.
"A new beginning!". Then, I marched.
I turned the doorknob and opened the door, ready to conquer the world... or at least a minimum wage.
The sunlight, a forgotten enemy, burned my eyes. I was greeted by a gust of air so fresh that my unaccustomed lungs protested, and a strong smell of damp earth. The crystal-clear sound of the birds was... too loud.
I looked up, following a shadow that swallowed the light.
Up there, where the neighbor's building should have been, a creature with red scales the size of a bus was beating its leathery wings.
"ROOOAAR!!"
The roar obliterated the birdsong and made my teeth vibrate. I looked around. The street, the cars, the city... it had all been replaced by a primordial forest that stretched to the horizon.
My brain, a machine optimized for calculating damage per second, blue-screened.
I blinked. Once. Twice.
"...I must be dreaming. Or yesterday's noodles were bad."
With a calmness that didn't belong to me, I took a step back and closed the door.
Click.
Locked. A problem for future John. Present John needed coffee. A strong one.