5— Orphan to Orphan.

Artyom slowly opened his eyes, and a wave of confusion washed over him. His vision was blurry, and he couldn't make out the surroundings. As he rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, he realized that he was lying on a hard bed, the cheaply mass produced type, he was very familiar with it.

His first thought to come to mind was that he was in a hospital, but the room was unfamiliar, and the atmosphere was entirely different. It didn't have the constant beeping and quiet shuffling of footsteps he remembered.

He would know best, after all, he had lived a long time in one and the sounds of the hospital were deeply ingrained in his head like an annoying song you couldn't get out of your head or even standing up to turn it off.

He tried to move his arms and legs, but they felt much weaker than he had remembered. He slowly sat up, taking in his surroundings. He looked around the room and saw several bunk beds, and realized that he was in a sort of dormitory, filled with children. They were all laying silently asleep in their beds, and the room was eerily silent.

The walls were gray and made of chilly concrete, and there was a single small window to at least let in light but clearly it wasn't ever meant to be opened as it had metal bars on it.

The room was sparsely furnished with just a few tables and chairs, and there was only a single door leading outside the room.

Artyom was lying on one of the beds, and he could see that there were others in the room with him. They were all children, ranging in age from toddlers to teenagers but mostly in the middle of that range.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the fog in his mind. As he did, he noticed that his hands were much smaller than he remembered. He looked down at his body and realized that he was, like the sleepyheads around him, a child.

A surge of panic and confusion washed over him. He tried to remember how he got here, but his memories were hazy.

He remembered the random omnipotent being sending him off but his memory cut off shortly after that moment.

Artyom took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He reminded himself that he had been reborn into this world by an omnipotent being. He remembered 'making the subconscious decision' to be transmigrated to a game world that he liked on a whim, a passing thought. Really.

He had some reservations that the words of the being would come true, it could have all been a hallucination brought on by some of the nurses mistakenly giving him the wrong medication or some other similar line of thinking. He was very glad in the end that he wasn't just high and that this really was just like some of the novels the nurses would read to him against his will.

He knew that he had to figure out where he was and how to survive in this new world. His chest filled with confidence as he remembered the gifts he had been graciously bestowed and with that same confidence he motioned to explore the room.

Artyom slowly and cautiously stood up, his new legs wobbling under him as he was still unaccustomed to them. He stumbled a few steps before finally regaining his balance. He looked around the room again, taking in the other children.

They all looked at him curiously, but none of them spoke. Artyom wondered if they were all orphans like he was in his previous life, he recognized the look they had in their eyes of something discarded and was annoyingly stubborn in its disposal like the headache of trying to safely dispose of a car battery.

He walked over to a mirror that was hanging on the wall. He gasped as he saw his reflection. He was a small boy, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He looked nothing like his old self. He reached up and touched his face, feeling the smooth flawless skin and booping his small nose.

Artyom sat down on the bed again, trying to process his new reality. He had been a grown man, with a slave career and an orphan with no family. Now he was a child, alone in a strange world. He closed his eyes and tried to remember everything he remembered about Atomic Heart.

It was a game that he had played for hours on end prior to his accident, exploring the world and battling crazed robots of the violent and sexy kind and sometimes both of those traits in a single robot. Despite its many game breaking bugs and poor optimization he enjoyed it.

Like many others who had heard of the game or seen the trailer he had pre-ordered the game with his blood rushing to his pants. He had finished the game and ended up liking the setting and stayed for the plot. But he had never in his wildest dreams expected to actually be living in the game world made manifest.

As he looked around, he realized that he was not alone. A boy, who looked to be about his age, was sitting on the bed next to him whilst staring at him. He had short brown hair and deep brown eyes. He was looking at Artyom with a mix of curiosity and concern.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside the door. The handle turned and a man entered. He appeared to be some sort of caretaker of this place as he carried a bag with him to collect the trash.

The caretaker swiftly collected all the trash from the other kids beds before glancing at Artyoms bed he noticed there was no trash and made his way over to Artyom despite the fact.

"Good morning, Artyom," He said, his voice low and gruff.

"Good... morning," Artyom replied, trying to sound polite but he was more than a little shocked that the caretaker somehow knew his name from his previous life.

"Relax, you look like you've just seen a ghost, I just read your name tag. You must be new here? I can tell. The name's Alexei" The Caretaker said grinning.

Artyom sighed in relief as he looked at his t-shirt and there was the stated name tag plainly present for all eyes to see.

"I see you're already up," Alexei said, walking over to Artyom. "That's good. You'll need to get used to waking up early here."

Artyom nodded, still feeling confused about his situation.

"I know this is all new to you," Alexei said, placing a hand on Artyom's shoulder. "But you'll get used to it. We take care of our own here."

Artyom looked up at Alexei, noticing the sadness in his eyes but still disgusted that this grown ass man was placing his hand on him.

"I lost my parents to the October revolution," Alexei said, his voice heavy with a suppressed grief. "Not the war like so many others. But I never questioned the state. They always know what's best for us."

Artyom felt a sense of unease at the Alexei's words. He had always been taught by many to question everything and to seek out the truth. But he also knew that he was in a different world now, and that the rules would be different especially if it just so happened to be the freaking USSR.

"I understand," Artyom said, trying to sound convincing.

"I hope you do," Alexei said, his grip on Artyom's shoulder tightening like a vice to Artyoms displeasure.

"Because if you don't, it could mean trouble for all of us."

Artyom nodded, feeling the weight of Alexei's warning. He knew that he needed to be careful, and to keep his thoughts to himself.

"Good," Alexei said, releasing Artyom's shoulder. "Now get dressed and be ready to go to the cafeteria with the others. Breakfast will be served in an hour."

Artyom watched as Alexei left the room, his mind racing with questions and doubts as he massaged the painful mark on his shoulder left by the caretaker.

Artyom sat on his bed, staring off into space as the other children in the dormitory slept soundly around him. The events of the day had left him feeling confused and a little shaken up.

He had woken up in a strange place, with clear memories that somehow felt like they weren't his own, and a body that was smaller and weaker than he was used to, though still miles better than the bed-potato he used to be. And now, as he tried to make sense of it all, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

Suddenly, he heard a voice from the bed next to him. "Hey?" The voice whispered.

Artyom turned to see Ivan, a boy about his age with a brown hair and a serious expression. He knew the name from the name tags he now knew about and as for the boy it was the same one who was staring at him earlier.

"I heard you talking to the janitor earlier," Ivan said. "You should be careful about what you tell him."

"Why?" Artyom asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Because they're always listening," Ivan said, his voice low and serious his eyes darting around to check the still empty corners of the room as if a man was to be found crouching there with a small voice recorder.

Ivan continued. "You don't want to say something you shouldn't, and end up in trouble."

Artyom nodded, his confusion deepening. "But why would they care what we say?" he asked.

Ivan looked at him for a long moment, his expression darkening. "Because they want us to be loyal to the state," he said finally. "They want us to believe that everything they do is for the good of the people. And if you start questioning that, well…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

Artyom frowned, He decided to probe Ivan further despite understanding already. "But why can't we question it?" he asked. "If we don't understand something, shouldn't we ask about it?"

Ivan's eyes narrowed. "Listen to me, Artyom," he said firmly. "I lost my parents to the revolution. They were taken away by the state, and I never saw them again. My father was taken to do work somewhere and my mother was dragged off in a car toward the army garrison for a party but she didn't look like she enjoyed it. You don't want to end up like them. So just do what you're told, and don't ask questions. It's safer for us both that way."

Artyom already understood the point behind Ivan's words, he was painfully aware of what it meant to live in this place, here, under comrade Stalin. He had considered that there might be consequences for questioning the state, and the thought of losing his freedom, or worse, was a little terrifying. He had already lost his freedom once before and didn't want to lose it again.

"Okay," he said quietly, his voice firm.

Ivan seemed to relax a little at that, his expression softening. "Good." he said. "Just remember what I said, okay? It's for your own safety."

Artyom nodded, his mind racing with questions. As he lay back down on his bed, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was in a very dangerous place.