He had paid $47,000 to forget that any of this existed.
He unlatched the harness and stepped out onto the platform. The forest was dark. Above, the real stars churned—not the curated constellations of his simulation, but messy, twinkling, imperfect points of light.
Leo stared back.
In the Home2Reality, animals were decorative. They never stared. They never judged. They certainly never had those dark, wet eyes that seemed to say: You don't belong here, do you?
At minute 22, he sat on a mossy log and tried to call his wife. No signal. Of course no signal. The Guide had warned him. "Real environments have dead zones," it had said cheerfully. "Enjoy the quiet."
At minute 31, the blue-lit path flickered. A soft chime sounded from his wristband.
He walked.
The pod opened with a hiss, and Leo gasped.