Waking Up

He awoke with a start, the cold metal floor pressing against his back. Blinking rapidly, he squinted at the dim, blue-tinged light that barely illuminated the small, metallic cube he found himself in. The walls were smooth and featureless, reflecting a distorted image of his bewildered face. He struggled to his feet, his muscles stiff and uncooperative.

"Where am I?" he whispered, the sound bouncing off the walls and echoing back at him. He ran his hands along the walls, searching for a seam, a button, anything. But there was nothing—no door, no window, no hint of an exit. Panic bubbled up in his chest. Who am I?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising tide of fear. Focus. One step at a time. He checked his pockets—empty. He touched his forehead, searching for an injury, a clue—nothing. He stretched his arm out and found the length of the cube not much longer than his wingspan and the ceiling only about a foot taller than him.

He looked down at himself and found he was wearing a black t shirt and black khaki pants with some grey shoes. In the corner of his view he saw something in the corner. It looked like stick of some kind. He thought he recognized it but in his confusion he couldn't figure out a name for it. He reached out and grabbed it.

Suddenly, he felt a peculiar sensation, like the ground shifting beneath him. Before he could react, a blinding light enveloped him, and he felt a moment of weightlessness. When his vision cleared, he was no longer in a cube. Instead, he stood in the midst of a dense jungle, the air thick with humidity and the sounds of hidden creatures. He looked around, bewildered.

Birds cawed overhead, their calls echoing through the canopy. The ground was soft beneath his feet, covered in a thick layer of leaves and moss. He stumbled forward, driven by an urgent need to figure out where he was. The smell of damp earth and blooming flowers filled his nostrils, a stark contrast to the sterile environment of the cube.

He began walking around, taking in his surroundings. It was only then that he looked down at what he was holding. He had grabbed it before his transference here and finally identified what it was in the clear sunlight. It was a katana. He didn't know why but it seemed to feel good in his hands, as if he knew how to use it, as if it was muscle memory.

He navigates the dense jungle with a mix of awe and trepidation. Each step reveals a new wonder: vibrant flowers that seem to pulse with life, trees with twisting roots that form natural mazes, and streams of crystal-clear water teeming with unfamiliar fish. He doesn't know what will happen but he doesn't want to die just yet. He spends hours foraging for food, testing fruits and berries cautiously, always aware of the possibility of danger. The calls of distant creatures create an ever-present soundtrack, and on the lookout for clues about his predicament. He carefully maps out his surroundings, marking trees with scratches from a sharp stone he found, and studies the jungle and tries to discern any sign of human life.

Just as the sun begins to set a sense of foreboding crept over him. He had no shelter and no idea what dangers lurked. He realized the sounds he heard in the distance earlier were drawing closer. He frantically searched for a place to hide. Just as he felt the sound were right in front of him he felt the same sensation as before. The ground seemed to fall away, and with a flash of light, he was back in the cube. Breathing heavily, he collapsed to the floor, his mind racing. What is this place? Why is this happening? He closed his eyes, determined to make sense of it all, even if it took him a lifetime.