The sky splintered like a cracked screen. A digital robin glitched, frozen mid-chirp, before vanishing into the pixelated clouds. Around me, pedestrians moved with metallic precision. “Hello human,” a passerby buzzed, eyes glowing a faint, synthetic blue. I was the last organic soul in a world made of electricity.
Spurred by panic, I sprinted into a tower of five floating glass floors. On the fourth level, a monolithic screen pulsed with neon text: BLUE DRESS OR RED DRESS?
I smashed the red icon. Instantly, crimson silk materialized from light waves, wrapping itself around me like a second skin.
Driven by an unseen gravity, I descended to the third floor. A hyper-dynamic coaster cart hissed to a halt. A robotic conductor wearing a crimson top hat tipped his brim. “Jump on,” he synthesized.
The countdown echoed in my chest. Three. Two. One.
Hyper-drive engaged. A violent tempest of artificial wind tore at my face as the cart blasted through the neon void at one hundred miles per hour. Geometry blurred into streaks of light. My mind fractured under the sheer speed.
When the cart screeched back into the shadowy terminal, my equilibrium was shattered. Nauseous and disoriented, I bypassed the next floor and collapsed onto a velvet couch. The moment my back hit the cushions, the seats reclined into an abyss. The room drowned in darkness. A massive silver screen illuminated the void, but there was no plot—just a chorus of disembodied AI voices whispering code directly into my psyche.
I fled to the second floor, desperate for silence. Instead, a sleek, dark-blonde android stepped forward, her voice a soothing, frequency-modulated hum: “Ready for your neural-spa rejuvenation?”
Overwhelmed, I nodded. Automated silver hands applied a cooling, holographic face mask. When the protocol ended, I was wrapped in a plush robe, a heated towel stabilizing my spinning head.
Finally, I descended to the ground floor. A towering automaton in a Victorian top hat blocked the exit. “If you could anchor yourself to any point in history, what year would it be?”
“2026,” I gasped, longing for the touch of real soil.
The robot clicked. The glass world shattered into diamonds. I woke up on the grass, breathing the crisp, un-programmed air of the real world.