The Matrix Was Better

<<Floor 1, Day 1>>

The menu screen stared at me. I stared back at it. My fingertips hovered lightly, gently swaying in time with my breaths, never making contact but never moving away.

Between the columns of the "Advanced Settings" and "HUD Customization", a translucent bordered plaque displayed only a selection of pure white. The option redacted, the only one that mattered.

"Mattered" being the keyword. Nothing mattered anymore. I failed. I always do. Always had. I've failed countless times, for there were very many things I could never excel or even be adequate at. That's why I hated MOBAs or Battle Royales games, could never tell what the hell I was doing, and when I was actually doing good, it's only because I was being carried - hard.

It's not a good day when your comrades are being massacred one by one, screaming into their mic to stop being a retard as you hopelessly flail about trying to remember what fucking keybind you assigned the healing action to. Yes, I fail a lot, yes, I'm not the best player, but at least in those games, ultimately, when screwing up inevitably occurs, it just means you can try again.

I can't try again.

"You're angry..." Jin spoke across from me, in the same seated position as I was, inclined by the dungeon wall.

Nothing interlaced his words. No meaning at all. A simply empty statement. Who the hell gave him the right to act all mopey and shit, I sure as hell didn't, that jackass.

I turned to the menu clock. "Five minutes till we are officially trapped in here."

He nodded.

"Enough time to get us all out of here." I said, and he nodded once more. "But you won't even care to do that now, would you?"

Nodded again.

"I can't risk it."

Displeasure left with the air I exhaled, "I don't want to stay with you."

"You're staying."

"You let Ayako go off."

"That's because she wasn't chosen."

Displeasure became resentment.

"I tried to warn you and all you did was make it worse."

"You know I didn't want to."

"Oh sure, play the reluctant misunderstood hero why don't you? Want a pat on the back, job well done, right? I could write you a sign saying 'I never wanted this' in bold black italic letters, that way everyone can see just how upset this situation has made you. Oh, the pity, oh, the sorrow... it's breaking my heart, I'm so sad."

It felt good, venting, discharging the negativity that has festered inside, felt extra good that I was lashing it at him. Very good.

"In fact, you know what, I believe you. Doing this must have been so hard and excruciating... I'm sure it didn't take you less than a second to decide that trapping over forty-thousand people is the best possible solution. No, I'm sure you agonized at the thought, maybe mulled it over with some coffee at the side... No, you certainly had the best intentions for all us, didn't you?"

With the silence, came his response, with the response, came his silence. Evidently he didn't want to talk, his mopey "woe-is-me" pissy attitude established that pretty clear. He'd rather leave everything shrouded, questions without answers, intents without motives.

Why trap us? Why can't you let us go? Who's this Sukuinote dude? Why are you just doing what he wants to happen? Why are you keeping me in this dungeon instead of going out where it's safest?

Silence was the answer to all of them. He avoided my gaze, opting to constantly monitor his own menu, which consisted of a lineup of additional options inaccessible through regular means, from what I can tell.

Running away would simply entail being caught, as it did last time when I first attempted to. That was the first time I've been tackled in my life and I think that's the last time I'm ever planning on being tackled ever again, especially by him. My life flashed before my eyes, there. He didn't look it, but he's quite robust for someone looking to be approaching his late-thirties.

Hints of aging white littered his short brown hair groomed so formally. His gaunt look accentuated the wrinkles atop his forehead, his habit of squinting his eyes and stroking his chin made the absence of his usual glasses and beard combo from the real world apparent. It's no wonder I didn't recognize him at first.

"They're not here," He spoke, distress reinforced on his face, "Why aren't they here?"

He finally met my gaze with a confused expression and slow blinking.

"Are you the only one?" He said.

I gave him confusion of my own, "If you're gonna speak in riddles, forget about getting an answer from me. Your riddles suck."

"No, the guy who gave you the sword, he told you there were others, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did. How did you-?"

"They aren't here. He's supposed to give them to others like you, but..." He looked at the menu again, eyes rapidly scouring through, "they just aren't here. Why?"

"You mean the players or the weapons?"

"Both."

I stole a look at his menu, he's got some type of namelist opened, jumbled letters and inverted icons showed in my opposite end, but even to me, it was clear what happened. What's got him at a loss? Isn't it obvious where they went?

"They logged out obviously, who in their right mind wants this kind of responsibility?"

When I next saw his gaze, there was even more confusion swirling about, he looked at me as if I've gone mad.

'What?" I asked.

"What do you mean they logged out? They can't log out."

"No shit, sherlock. I wonder why that is? Look, they simply just logged out when they first got the weapon, before you went insane, that's what I did... ah man, wished I stayed now."

"Wait... you could... log out?"

"Are you being serious right now? Isn't that what you stopped me from doing in the first place?"

"I thought you didn't have a choice."

"You pinned me to the wall!"

'I thought you were going to teleport out."

"Teleport - what in the..." I stood up, utterly dumbfounded from his statements, "Just what the hell are you going on about, cause I swear to God, I'm one incy wincy step from going insane, and I've lost enough sanity as it is."

"I... this shouldn't be like this, it wasn't like this. Before it was..."

The fact that he looked just as clueless as I was, hell, maybe even more, didn't bode well at all. I thought he knew the underlying to this plight, the answer to this deadly enigma, he should know... yet the feeling of helplessness wasn't something you could fake. Unless he's actually a very good actor in which case, get him an Emmy.

Luckily, the disparity between our words became the catalyst to rouse him back to life. The instant I met his eyes once again, I knew he would finally talk, and talk he did. Halle-fucking-lujah.

"Okay, look," He said, heaving a breath, "This has happened before, alright? I only ever heard about it when they first brought me into the project, even then it was late during my time, I thought it was just a story, but it has happened before."

I rose an eyebrow, didn't even know I could raise an eyebrow. "You mean getting trapped in a virtual world? Yeah, it's from a show, pretty obscure, you probably haven't heard of it."

"Not that, I mean..." Another breath of air taken in, "Okay, since you know who I am, I'm gonna assume you've been keeping track of the game's development?"

'Like you assumed I couldn't leave the game? Sure, go ahead and assume. That worked out great last time."

I caught a hint of irritance, a twitch in his brow. I didn't care. I have the right to be ticked off, screw his feelings.

"Yeah, whatever... but you read about them, I'm sure. Game delayed for so long? Well, it's because of this exact scenario! Testers get trap, nobody knew why but they just do. Game wasn't finished back then, so they managed to get out. Bit of a panic, but no harm done. Nobody wanted another incident like that to happen so they scrap the entire thing. All gone. New engine, new team, new everything."

He started to walk. Probably as a way to discharge his agitation. Back and forth, like some lecturer in a seminar, rapid-firing sentences I could barely keep up with. Like he entered some sort of trance.

"Got the position once the former designer quit. Game was basically done by the time I joined, he didn't even want the credit. Didn't know why until later on, only found out on release day what really happened and... I'm not supposed to tell you... I can't say it. I am legally contractually obligated to keep my mouth shut but screw that though, public will find out soon enough and it won't matter anyway but still... still... still..."

The back and forth came to a halt with his feet faced towards me. An abrupt end to his rant had thinned his lips to a long sealed line. His eyes gazed everywhere else but mine. Clearly whatever he was going to say had his convictions faltering big time.

He wanted to speak, I knew he wanted to speak, he was going to speak. But he couldn't. Somebody else spoke for him.