Dan was fighting the sand. It kept sliding down the dune, trying to pull him with it, but he couldn’t let it. He looked up again. There was the horizon, close now, almost within reach. He was on all fours, trying to climb up the dune. He put another hand up, but he only clutched at more sand. The grains slipped through his fingers, and then tried to pull his feet down. He had to get up there. He tried again and gained a little bit. Another foothold. Another. He was close. He could almost see over the edge of the dune. He lifted himself up, and—

The ceiling clicked on. Dan woke up instantly, the dream fading. He looked up. One hand was outstretched, reaching for something beyond his grasp. The only things here were walls. Solid gray walls. Dan stared at them blankly for a moment. He frowned. He twisted around and pushed on the one behind him. It didn’t move. It didn’t even give a little bit.

The thought of actually trying to get out didn’t occur to Dan. He was simply annoyed that he couldn’t see the horizon anymore.

Dan got up, retrieved the chair, and ate his breakfast (water and a solid gray lump this morning). There was no doubt in his mind that Darren had pulled him from his home last night, and that he had seen sand, sky, and flown in a strange machine. The memory wasn’t fading, like a dream normally would. Therefore, it was real. That was all the proof Dan needed. The soulborgs must have found him and brought him back here. Dan wasn’t sure why he couldn’t remember that part.

Dan was distracted as a dark wisp of vapor escaped the slot where the food appeared. He watched it go, up towards the ceiling, where it evaporated. He had seen it before. It was quite common actually. But this time he kept looking at the place where it had disappeared, wondering. Where had it come from? It couldn’t have just appeared. Something must have created it. Something somewhere… else. Beyond his home.

Dan hadn’t finished when the table retracted, taking the food tray with it. He grabbed the last of the gray lump before it was whisked out of sight, stuffing the last few bites into his mouth and turning to the stairs as the ceiling above them lit up.

As he climbed, he finally remembered the hole in the ceiling last night. He rushed up the last few steps and looked eagerly upwards, but it was gone. There wasn’t even a scratch or dent. Just a soft, even white glow. Disappointed, Dan looked at the SR Units. Both were perfectly intact, undamaged, the closest one open as it always was.

For a moment Dan thought he might have imagined the whole thing after all. But then he saw one small detail: the door to the SR Unit wasn’t where he had left it. He always left it wide open; this door was just barely ajar. That proved it to Dan: something had changed.

Seeing that door changed something in Dan. He stood there, at the top of the stairs, staring at the SR Unit, excitement growing within him. He had left his home last night. He knew it now. He had seen a whole world he didn’t know existed, felt things he had never imagined, seen things he had never dreamt. And there had been more, so much more, just beyond that horizon.

Dan stood there for a minute, excitement coursing throughout him. Finally, he looked around. He saw the three walls, the energy barrier, and the unmarked ceiling, and he knew.

“I want to know what’s out there.”

His own voice startled him; he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Once he had though, he realized it was true. He wanted to go back, to look again, to explore. He wanted to know what really was beyond that horizon.

A soft red light clicked on over the SR Unit, accompanied by a single note. Dan knew what it meant. He had to get in the Unit. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to see the horizon again. Just to see it. To see the sand and feel it. He stood there, undecided.

The note sounded again. Still Dan didn’t move. “No,” he said aloud. “I want to see the sand and the sky again. I want to see them again. Then I can go back to the SR Unit.” He nodded his approval at his own words, and as an afterthought, sat down on the floor against the wall.

A minute later the red light went out. Dan wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, or what he might do. All he knew was that for the first time, he wanted something his simple life couldn’t give him.

Dan sat there for five more minutes. Nothing happened. ‘I want to get out,’ he thought to himself. ‘I want to see the sky and feel the sand again. I can’t do that here or in the SR Unit.’ He glanced around. ‘That means… I have to get out of here. I have to find the sky again.’ Dan thought about this. It made perfect sense. He had to get out.

Dan stood up. There were only two ways out of his home. The most obvious way was through the energy barrier. However, RR had said that if he touched it, he would die, so Dan knew he couldn’t get out that way. That left the Shaft.

In the bedroom wall, on the right side and closest to the Barrier, Dan knew a whole panel could slide away from the floor to the ceiling, revealing a man-sized hole. In this hole was a tall box, into which a person could step, and stand comfortably. Dan had seen RR use it when she came to him. It was how she arrived and left. It must be the way out.

Having made his decision, Dan turned, and went back down the stairs. He would simply have to force that panel open somehow. The first problem with this plan was that all the lights downstairs were off. He couldn’t see where he was going. Fortunately, he knew his home so well that he hardly needed the lights, and found the panel quickly.

He could feel the grooves in the wall where it was. He pressed against it. It didn’t move. He shoved with all his might, he tried hitting it, he even ran the length of the room and slammed into it, but all he got was a bruised shoulder.

After several more minutes of trying to get the Shaft to open, Dan had to admit it wasn’t working. He went back upstairs, thinking he might as well get in the SR Unit and try again later, but the Unit didn’t work. Dan closed the door and stood there expectantly, but nothing happened. Dan couldn’t understand it. In all his years, the SR Unit had always started up within a few seconds of him closing the door. After ten minutes though, he realized nothing was going to happen. He tried the door, and found that it was open. At least he wasn’t trapped in the Unit. He was, however, stuck. If the schedule held – and it had remained the same ever since he could remember – he had to wait at least another eleven hours before anything happened.

After another hour Dan realized he now knew the meaning of a word he had heard once in the SR Unit. The word was ‘boredom’.

Nothing was happening. The light never changed. Dan had tried the SR Unit several times, but it refused to do anything. Everything was completely silent. Mother had been watching Dan for an hour straight.

After a few more minutes, Dan finally decided he couldn’t have what he wanted. He couldn’t see the sky or feel the sand again. He couldn’t struggle to reach the horizon. He was surrounded by walls and a Barrier, with no way out.

It wasn’t the defeat which Dan disliked the most. He had lived his entire life under a predictable schedule. He woke up at a certain time, ate at a certain time, entered the SR Unit at a certain time… he did everything at the same time, in the same order, every day. Now that the schedule was in disarray, now that Dan had nothing to do, he found he missed it. He needed it. Without it, he was… lost.

Dan stared glumly at Mother, and Mother stared back. He suddenly wondered what his real mother had been like. He had asked RR once, but she had refused to tell him. He didn’t know why. He imagined her as kind and comforting. He remembered RR had comforted him, in the beginning, when he was scared. But she was cold and hard. Surely his real mother hadn’t been like that? Dan sighed. More than anything, he wanted someone to talk to him, someone to pass the time with. He closed his eyes, willing himself to hear her voice…

After another hour even his imagination was no escape for Dan. He didn’t even know how long it would be until the schedule resumed with dinner. He didn’t think he could wait that long. He had been doing something his whole life, always moving towards the next step in his unending schedule. Now that he had ignored the schedule, the steps were gone, and he was beginning to realize just how much he needed them. He had to do something.

But there was nothing to do. So Dan just sat there, watching the Barrier flicker occasionally, the only sign that there was a fourth wall at all. He found himself thinking about what RR had said, about the Barrier killing him if he touched it. With nothing else to think about, he found the thought mildly interesting. He had never thought about death before. What was it, really? What did it feel like? How could you – your thoughts and emotions – just… stop? What happened to them?

The longer Dan thought about it, the more interested he became. He couldn’t grasp the concept of simply not existing. Was there maybe somewhere he went when he died? How could he be dead then? But how could he be dead, if there was no he at all? That certainly didn’t make sense.

Dan actually sat up straighter, thinking. Now that he thought about it, he wanted to experience death. Not out of some morbid fascination, but just due to curiosity. It was something he didn’t know. Something he couldn’t explain. He tried to find an analogy for it. It was like… like… like the horizon Darren had mentioned.

Dan paused. The horizon. Well, why couldn’t death be a horizon? They were both unknowns, after all. Dan had no idea what was over the rise for either one of them. He couldn’t reach the one, and there certainly wasn’t anything going on at the moment. What was to stop him from exploring the second horizon? The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became.

Dan, however, was not stupid. He knew that death meant killing himself, and that meant, as far as he could figure, no more him. He couldn’t very well see what was on the other side of death if he wasn’t there to see it. But he also wouldn’t be able to see it without dying.

Dan thought about this for a moment, and finally came to a conclusion. Maybe if he just brushed the Barrier, he could experience death a little bit, and then come back from whatever it was. It made sense to him. (It must be said at this point that living in isolation for fourteen years left Dan rather ignorant on certain important subjects, such as the fact that there is very little ‘middle ground’ with death.)

Dan got up. The prospect of reaching a horizon – any horizon – was exciting. Dan crossed to the Barrier and stood in front of it, his face mere inches away from the flickering blue light. Excitement beginning to pound within his ears, he lifted a hand, and slowly reached for the Barrier.

The closer he got, the more he could feel. At first, the hairs on his hand stood up. He could feel a prickling all across his fingers. He went further, and soon he began to feel resistance, like he was pushing through water. The resistance got stronger, and soon Dan’s palm was actually hurting, as if the skin was trying to pull away from the Barrier. Determined, Dan pushed his hand the last few inches, and finally felt the Barrier.

The instant he touched the blue field, a jarring shock went through Dan’s arm, and he was flung backwards. He landed on the hard floor a split second later, his hand burning with pain, and his arm numb.

But he wasn’t dead.

Dan wasn’t sure if he was excited or disappointed. RR had said the Barrier would kill him if he touched it. So why hadn’t it? After a moment, Dan decided that he hadn’t touched it long enough. He had barely brushed it, and that had only been for the smallest of moments. He needed something to keep him in contact with it, something like – Dan glanced around – something like the edge of the upstairs floor.

The Barrier extended upwards, covering both floors, but the upstairs floor stopped just short of the field, leaving a small gap a few inches wide. Dan was fairly thin. He figured he could slide through the gap to the floor below easily, with just enough room to barely brush the Barrier. If the Barrier pushed him back as hard as it had, Dan would be pressed against the edge of the floor, and stay in contact with the Barrier for much longer. Then he would slide down to the first floor.

Dan went over the plan a few more times. There was nothing left but to try it. Dan walked to the Barrier and looked at it, breathing deeply. He stepped closer until he was standing on the very edge of the floor. He could feel the hairs on his face standing up, as whatever strange energy made up the Barrier played across them. He was mere inches away from it. He put out his hands – he didn’t want to slam face-first into the Barrier – took a deep breath, and jumped.

The Barrier was a lot stronger than Dan had expected. It flung him back with the force of a wall crushing him from above. Dan slammed into the edge of the floor just as he had anticipated. However, from there, his plan went wrong.

Dan wasn’t quite as thin as he had thought. Even being plowed into the edge of the floor, he was still in full contact with the Barrier, his arms pressed flat against it. The Barrier was pinning him to the edge of the floor, preventing him from going down or back up. He was stuck.

And then the pain came. Every piece of skin in contact with the Barrier felt stretched, like it was doing its best to pull away. His arms and legs were quickly becoming numb. Dan was holding his body away from the Barrier with his arms, and he soon began to see faint blue lines of energy coiling around them, singing the hairs, causing smoke to wisp upwards. At first it just prickled, almost like an itch which Dan couldn’t scratch. But soon it became sharper, more persistent. The sensation got deeper into Dan’s skin, and became more intense. Now it was like a burning sensation – something Dan had only felt in the SR Unit. Pain started to run up and down his arms.

Dan tried to move them, but he couldn’t. They seemed to be glued to the Barrier, frozen in place. All the muscles in his arms were taut, tight as if Dan was holding onto something for dear life. They were already beginning to feel tired through all the burning, but Dan couldn’t move them. He tried to pry himself loose with his legs, but those muscles started to tighten too. Soon Dan’s chest constricted, and he could barely breathe.

Dan was starting to panic now. The pain had spread to his shoulders. His muscles were burning; he could now visibly see electricity coursing up and down his arms. He tried to struggle, but by now his entire body was locked in place, unable to move. Dan forced himself to calm down. If he could just straighten his arms, he’d fall right down to the first floor. But he couldn’t move them. He tried and tried, but all he did was get short on breath.

Breathing was becoming harder too. Red spots were beginning to appear in Dan’s vision, and with each breath his chest seemed to lock up tighter, growing smaller, forcing more air out and letting less air back in.

Dan finally realized that he couldn’t do this much longer. Something was going to break: him or the Barrier. He very much doubted it would be the Barrier. Darkness was clouding his eyes, narrowing down until he could see almost nothing. The Barrier was pressing against him, harder and harder. He suddenly remembered what Darren had said: “Why are they keeping you from getting out? Because there’s something to keep you from.”

‘Ah,’ he thought vaguely. ‘There must be something out there.’

And then the darkness took him, and Dan knew no more.

Dan felt like he should have heard something. He definitely should have heard the machine crash. He knew he should have heard the sand which blasted into it. He should have heard the explosions as flames burst into existence along the walls. But the only thing he heard was a faint click, as Darren crawled over to him and pressed a button, releasing the straps holding him.

Without his hearing, Dan somehow felt removed from everything. He let Darren pick him up and haul him out of the smoking machine. He let himself be set on the sand while Darren went back into the machine, and emerged a moment later carrying cases and equipment.

Dan looked up at the immense sky above him. It was even bigger now, since Dan wasn’t looking at it through a hole. There were more lights in it. The white ones stayed put, but there were a few red and blue ones chasing each other, occasionally launching golden lights at each other. Dan watched them curiously.

“We should move back here.”

Dan jumped as Darren spoke. He had heard him. Very faintly, but he had heard him. He could hear flames now, too, and feel an intense heat coming from the machine, which was lying on its side in the sand.

Darren pulled Dan away from the flames, and across a stretch of sand. Dan struggled to move forward. He didn’t really sink in the sand, but it kept shifting and sliding beneath his feet. Sand in the SR Unit mostly stayed put. More than once Dan slipped and almost fell, but Darren kept a grip on his arm. Together they moved up over a small dune and down the other side, and finally found a large rock, behind which they crouched.

“We’ll be safe here,” Darren said. “For now. Someone will pick us up.”

Darren’s words didn’t make much of an impression on Dan. He was far too interested in the sand and the sky. He preoccupied himself for a minute, watching sand run through his fingers, until he looked up, searching for Mother. He had never been disappointed: she was always watching. That was why, when after glancing about frantically and realizing she wasn’t there, Dan got truly afraid. For the first time, he realized he was beyond his home.

“Darren!” he cried, leaping to his feet. “Where am I?”

Darren pulled him down. “Keep down!” he hissed. “They’ll see you.”

Dan blinked. “Who?” he asked, his curiosity temporarily outweighing his fear.

“Soulborgs,” Darren replied. “There’ll be scouts out here soon. We don’t want to be found by them.”

Soulborgs. The name was familiar. Dan remembered after a moment. RR was a soulborg. She had said so.

“Why don’t we want the soulborgs to find us?” Dan asked.

Darren looked at him. “Because… What do you mean? You just escaped from them.”

“Escaped?”

“Don’t you know you were in a prison?”

None of this was making any sense. The last thing Dan knew, he was in his bed, asleep and happy.

“Look,” Darren said, turning to him, “the soulborgs aren’t your friends. They have imprisoned you in that tiny cell you call home. You think it’s a good life, but that’s just because you don’t know anything else. Listen: the soulborgs are your enemies. They want to control you, your life, your thoughts, your very emotions. My friends and I fight them. We’re trying to free you and the others like you, so that you can know what life really is.”

Dan hadn’t understood much of this. There was only one thing which lodged in his mind:

“There are others like me?”

“Other prisoners, yes.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see them, once someone comes for us. We’ve saved hundreds. Maybe thousands. It isn’t easy, but we won’t give up. We need to do this.”

“Why?”

Darren scratched his head. “Because most of them don’t even realize they are slaves, imprisoned. They don’t realize what they’re missing. They deserve that much. It’s only right.”

Dan was confused. It must have shown on his face.

“Alright,” Darren said. “Look over there.” He pointed to the horizon.

In the darkness, Dan spotted for the first time the point where the sand met the sky. It rose up and down to the left and to the right, peaking in great dunes and falling away in sheer valleys. Dan had seen something similar many times in the SR Unit, though it had never seemed quite so vast, extending forever on both sides. In the SR Unit the horizon had always seemed flat; out here the distance felt real, the horizon far off. He looked expectantly back at Darren.

“What’s out there?” Darren asked. “What’s beyond that horizon?”

“Beyond?” It must be said that the whole concept of things existing where Dan couldn’t see them was one he had never thought of, much less understood.

“Beyond,” Darren repeated. “We’re on this side of the horizon. What’s on the other side?”

Dan blinked, suddenly understanding what Darren was saying. There was a whole desert on the other side of those dunes? A whole world? Dan shrank back. To someone who had lived in as small a room as he had, the idea of so much space was frightening.

“It’s nothing to be scared of,” Darren said. “You should be excited about it.”

“Why?” Dan asked, still looking warily at the horizon.

“Because anything could be out there. Literally anything. Think about that for a second.”

Dan did think about it. He found the idea frightening.

Darren pointed in a different direction. “Look back there,” he said. “That’s where you came from.”

Dan looked in the direction Darren was pointing, and saw a mass of brilliant white lights and low gray buildings. He had come from there?

“Those are soulborg buildings. Prison complexes. See the fences and walls?”

Dan looked. He did see fences and walls. They surrounded all the buildings. They were high, and some of them had spikes on the top. Nothing could get past them.

“Now,” Darren said. “Why do you think those walls are there?”

Dan thought for a moment. “To keep us safe? To keep bad things out?”

“Bad things?” Darren echoed. “Look around. There’s nothing out here. No, those walls are there to keep you in. The soulborgs don’t want you to leave. They want to control you. They need to control you.”

Dan was getting confused. “But why don’t they want us to leave?” he asked.

Darren pointed to the horizon. “That’s why. You want to know why they have fences and walls? It’s to keep you from reaching that horizon and seeing what’s beyond it. It’s to keep you from realizing that you’re actually a prisoner. It’s to keep you from looking over the edge of that horizon, and realizing that there is a whole life waiting for you, a life you didn’t even know existed. Why are they keeping you from getting out? Because there’s something to keep you from.”

Dan didn’t know how to react to this. His mind was still too preoccupied with sky and sand to really process what Darren was saying. That and the fact that one of the blue lights in the sky was growing bigger had him distracted.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the growing light.

“Run!” Darren yelled the instant he saw the light. “The soulborgs have found us! Run!”

“Where?” Dan cried, afraid in the sudden chaos.

“To the horizon! Run, and don’t stop until you’re on the other side. Someone will find you there.”

“But—”

“Go!” Darren shouted, giving Dan a shove in the right direction.

Dan ran. Or he tried to. He had never run in actual sand before, and was soon stumbling and floundering. He kept the horizon in sight, however, and made for it, starting to climb a massive sand dune which was in his way. He didn’t look back. Not when he heard a terrible crash. Not when he heard a strangled cry. Not even when he heard heavy footfalls behind him. He kept climbing the dune until there was a brilliant flash of light, and all sensation ceased. Darkness took him, and Dan faded from consciousness.

When you’ve woken up at the same time for your entire life, it’s a hard thing to wake up several hours early. That’s why, even with the rumbling, shaking, and thunderous booms coming from overhead, it still took Dan a few moments to fully wake up. Only when an ear-splitting crash jarred the walls and floor did he really sit up, cowering under his sheets.

Everything was still dark. The only lights were Mother, still watching over him, and the faint blue from the walls where the Barrier was emitted. Neither offered Dan any clue as to what was going on.

The first hint he had that this was more than just another rumbling and shaking was when something – a sheet of metal about as long as Dan’s arm – fell through the gap between the second floor and the Barrier, hit the Barrier, and was shot back across the floor, stopping against the foot of Dan’s bed with a clang.

Dan looked up. He could hear it now: that same rumbling and humming he had heard several times before. It was much louder this time though. It seemed much closer. All the walls were shaking violently; even the bed was trembling.

Part of Dan wanted to stay put; to burrow into the sheets and pretend nothing was happening. But a deeper part of him wanted to get out of bed and go upstairs, to see what was going on. As Dan sat there, trying to decide what to do, a new sound met his ears: a series of soft thuds overhead. And then something Dan had heard only in the SR Unit and from RR: voices.

“Block fifty-seven, I think. We’re far from any support.”

“How many do you think we can get out?”

“If they cooperate? A good twenty cells.”

“Let’s go then.”

Dan froze as he heard something – someone – come clambering down the stairs. He was the only person who had ever used those stairs. The sound of someone else coming down them was just so wrong that Dan didn’t know what to do.

A moment later lights appeared on the far wall beyond the Barrier, dancing white lights, brilliant, hurting Dan’s eyes. He shielded his face from their brightness, and looked to the left wall, where he knew the stairs ended. What was coming?

Something big, dark, humanoid, and heavy – judging by the footfalls – issued from the hall. Dan didn’t scream. He didn’t move. He didn’t have the faintest idea how to react, so he just sat there, trying to make himself small.

The figure was joined by a second. They each held something long and thin, like a perfectly straight stick, only more angular. A light issued from the ends of the sticks, and the two figures waved them around, shining them on everything. After a moment, one of them turned and shined its light on Dan.

“Found one,” the figure called to its companion. They both came over. Dan shrank against the wall.

The figure raised its light, casting both it and Dan in a dim reflection from the wall. Dan could see the figure now. It had the shape of a man – or at least what Dan knew to be a man from the SR Unit – but it was covered in some sort of black clothing. Dan couldn’t see an inch of skin.

“What’s your name, son?”

The voice was far softer than Dan had been expecting. It was gentle, just as gentle as the time RR had comforted him. Perhaps gentler. Dan instantly felt himself begin to relax, a reaction which he found odd, given that he didn’t know what was happening. He said nothing.

“C’mon, Darren,” said the other figure, his voice much rougher. “We can do introductions later.”

The first man held out a hand to Dan. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Dan blinked. “What?” he said. Out… of here? What did they mean? The hall? Was he actually going to see the hall? Dan suddenly grew excited.

“Okay,” he said, sliding his feet out of the bed. He was a bit frightened by the sudden appearance of these men, but since the only other real person he had ever met was RR, the concept of distrust was foreign to Dan. Besides, they didn’t seem afraid of the loud rumbling which was still thundering overhead, and that made Dan braver.

Darren stood there for a moment, as if Dan’s reaction had caught him off guard. “Okay,” he said, recollecting himself. “Let’s go up here.” He took Dan gently by the hand and led him up the stairs. Dan went willingly. Obviously these two knew some secret way to get into the hall. No one would be foolish enough to go right through the Barrier. It would kill them. RR had said so.

Dan wasn’t prepared for the sight which met him when he reached the second floor and turned around to face the SR Units. Both Units were shattered, pieces of glass littering the floor, sparks flying from the walls where cords had been severed. Dan barely saw that however. Directly above him, big enough to lift his entire bed through with ease, was a hole in the ceiling.

Dan had spent his entire life in his home. He had never left it, and he had never seen anyone else save for RR. He knew nothing of what might be beyond his home, or indeed if there was anything beyond it, aside from the hall beyond the Barrier. To him, his home was the world. He knew RR went somewhere when she left, and he knew the lights outside on the wall must come from somewhere, but the idea of actual places and things beyond what he knew… such a thought had never occurred to him.

That was why, upon seeing a black sky spread with an unfathomable number of tiny pricks of light, Dan reeled back against the wall, petrified with fear. His mind could not comprehend what he was seeing.

The man, Darren, had evidently been expecting this. He knelt down next to Dan. “Hey,” he said in the same soft voice, “it’s okay. It’s just the sky. It’s not going to hurt you. Come on.”

Dan didn’t budge. He had seen the sky before, in the SR Unit. He knew what it was. But somehow, the Unit had never conveyed the depth of the sky: the immensity which Dan now stared at, feeling as if he might at any moment start falling into it. The sight scared him, but he couldn’t look away.

“Come on,” Darren said again, gently pulling Dan forwards. “We’ve got to go.”

Dan finally tore his eyes away from the sky, though he still trembled, knowing the vast nothingness which was above him. “What about Mother?” he asked, looking up at Darren.

“Mother? Your mother is here? Where?”

Dan pointed to Mother, the single red eye still watching them. Both men looked at the camera for a few seconds.

“That’s sick,” said the second man after a moment. “We have to get this kid out of here, now. Darren, you get him out, I’ll get the Barrier open.”

Out? Barrier open? Dan didn’t have time to wonder. Darren suddenly grabbed him about the waist and lifted him up to the hole.

The sky came closer, and Dan shielded his head, crying out in fear. A new pair of hands grabbed him beneath his arms and pulled him up. Darren let go. And then Dan felt something beneath his feet; something he hadn’t been expecting.

He was standing on sand. The only thing Dan had ever stood on was whatever the floor of his home was made of. He had grown up having something solid, if a bit springy, under his feet. He had felt many things in the SR Unit – water, rock, grass, even sand – but they always seemed to give under his feet, disappearing from underfoot to reveal a more solid surface beneath. What Dan now stood on was nothing like that.

His bare feet sank slightly in the grains. Panicked that he was sinking, Dan struggled, and felt the sand resisting his feet, hampering him. Sand never acted like that in the SR Unit. Dan had always been able to push it out of the way, finding the more solid floor beneath. This was different. There was no floor, only more sand. After a few moments of struggling, Dan’s curiosity got the better of him, and he simply knelt down, trying to see the sand clearly in the darkness.

“This way,” said a voice very close to Dan. Dan jumped. This voice was different. Softer, a bit higher. He had seen women in the SR Unit, and decided that this must be one. He honestly couldn’t tell. Every inch of her was covered in black like Darren. The only thing which wasn’t black was a small white patch, easily visible against the dark fabric, stitched on the left shoulder. Dan looked closer. It was some sort of symbol: the outline of a hexagon with two vertical lines running from top to bottom. Dan wondered what it meant.

There was a sound of grunting, and Darren heaved himself out of the hole behind Dan. Watching him emerge, Dan noticed that he had the same symbol on his shoulder. The woman quickly turned to him.

“Interceptors two miles out, Darren. We don’t have time to wait. There will be another opening. We can get the others out then.”

Darren nodded. “Stay here,” he said. “This is our only entry point; they’ll all be coming up through here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The woman nodded, and Darren took Dan by the hand, leading him away. It was only then that Dan saw – and heard and felt – what was directly in front of him.

He must have been so interested in the sky overhead and the sand underfoot that he hadn’t noticed the powerful wind whipping against him. Then again, he was used to wind. There was at least one powerful wind almost every day in the SR Unit, sometimes more, and this at least felt exactly the same. Except for the fact that sand was in the wind, stinging at Dan’s face. And that the wind was coming from a gigantic black object which was making the loudest noise Dan had ever heard.

He had no idea what he was looking at: black panels, whirring blades, sleek pistons, powerful landing legs; none of this made any sense to him. All he knew was that the powerful wind was coming from whatever the machine was, and that it was loud. Now, at last, he understood where the rumbling had been coming from. The very ground was shaking because of this machine.

Darren kept a tight grip on Dan and led him right up to – and then into – the machine. They went up a dark ramp, lit only with tiny lights, and into a dark interior, lit only with a red glow. Before Dan had finished taking in his surroundings, the ramp rose up off the ground, sealing them in, and the noise increased.

“Sit down here,” Darren said gently, guiding Dan into a seat. He pulled some sort of straps over Dan’s chest, which held him securely to the chair. “Don’t worry,” he said, possibly spotting Dan’s fear. “Everything’s fine. Just hold on.”

Hold on? What for? What was he supposed to—

Dan suddenly felt himself lift off the ground. He looked down: his feet were still solidly on the floor, but he could feel it in his stomach: they were definitely in the air.

Dan was very curious about things. But now his fear started to outweigh his curiosity. He wanted to get out of this machine. He wanted to be back on the ground. He wanted more than anything to be back in his warm, comfortable bed, fast asleep. He closed his eyes as he felt the machine accelerate forwards. It was moving much faster than he had ever moved in his life; he could feel it.

And then it wasn’t. There was a horrible boom, the motion stopped almost instantly, and Dan’s hearing stopped as well. His eyes flew open. He could see things happening all about him: sparks flying, Darren yelling, lights flashing, but he could hear nothing. He found this mildly disturbing.

And then they started to spin. Faster and faster, and now Dan could sense that they were going down. His hearing was starting to return very slowly: he could hear a faint ringing as if from a long ways away. Dan saw Darren turn and yell something to him, and then… it all stopped.

Dan woke as suddenly as if someone had shaken him. He glanced at the ceiling. A faint gray light, barely enough to see by, illuminated the center of the usually dark metal ceiling. He had five minutes, then.

He stretched, pulling his arms as far past his head as he could. They met up with the warm metal wall behind him, the faint heat quickly passing through his arms and into the rest of his body.

Dan sat up. It was completely dark. The only light, indeed the only thing he could see at all, was Mother. She wasn’t actually his mother; Dan knew that. She was simply a camera mounted on the far wall, its single red light the only thing visible in the darkness. Dan called it Mother though. She was always there, watching over him. It made Dan feel safe, knowing that she was there, protecting him.

“Good morning, Mother,” Dan said. There was no reply, just as there hadn’t been for all the fourteen years of Dan’s life. This didn’t bother Dan though. He knew someone else was on the other end of that camera, watching over him. How he knew this he couldn’t say, but it made him feel safe, like nothing bad could ever happen to him.

There was the faintest of clicks, and a soft white glow appeared in the center of the ceiling, just over Dan’s feet. It grew steadily in brightness and size, until the whole ceiling was emitting a gentle white light, chasing the shadows away completely. Time to get up.

Dan swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching again. A patch of ceiling to his left, hidden by the edge of the wall, lit up, and Dan moved towards it automatically. Mother turned, following him with her unblinking gaze.

Dan’s home was a simple one. It was rectangular, with metal walls, a floor of some slightly softer material, and a ceiling which served as a light source. On one end of the home was a room with a bed, big enough for two, and on the other was a small bathroom, complete with sink and shower. Between the two rooms a narrow flight of stairs led up to the second level. The stairs were set off by two inner walls.

There was no fourth wall to Dan’s home. Instead, a field of energy stretched where it should have been, invisible save for an occasional blue flicker. It stretched across both levels of Dan’s home, leaving only a small gap between it and the floor of the second level. He was careful to stay well away from it. RR had said that if he touched it, he would die.

RR was the only other person Dan knew, besides Mother. She was very different from Dan, encased in metal, and they had only met a handful of times. But Dan felt like he knew her. She was like a mother to him. A real one, which walked and talked and had even comforted him once.

Dan turned into the short hallway where the stairs were, and pressed a button on the wall. A panel slid open at his feet, revealing a small opening only a few feet wide. From within the small compartment, Dan withdrew a metal object, which, when he unfolded it, proved to be a chair.

Dan put the chair directly in front of the short hallway, facing the bedroom, and waited. Exactly five seconds later, a thin metal slab extended outwards from the wall, almost touching the nearby energy barrier. Dan scooted his chair up to it. A few seconds later, something clicked inside the wall, and a tray slid onto the slab, containing food.

The food was unremarkable. It consisted of water in a tall container, and a single block of brown, texture-less… something.  Dan, however, began eating eagerly, tearing off bits of the brown food with his fingers, and drinking the water in great gulps. To an outsider, the food would have looked hardly palatable, but to Dan, it was a filling meal. It was the only meal he had ever known.

Halfway through his meal, Dan glanced up. Beyond the Barrier, a hall stretched to the right and to the left, out of sight beyond the walls of Dan’s home. On the far wall, Mother was mounted, still watching. Always watching. But every now and then, Dan caught a glimpse of something else on the wall. He saw it now.

Far to the right, almost blocked by the wall, Dan could see a patch of color. It flickered between blue and white, fading and growing brighter. Dan had seen it many times, but he had never figured out what it was. He knew there must be something beyond the right wall which was causing that light, but what could it be?

Dan watched the light for a moment, but then turned back to his food. He couldn’t be distracted. He had found out long ago that he had a limited about of time to eat his breakfast, and then it would all slide back into the wall. He didn’t want to go hungry.

Sure enough, there was soon a faint click, and the metal panel which had served as a table retracted back into the wall, taking the now empty tray and cup with it. Dan automatically got up, folded his chair, and put it back in the compartment in the wall.

Dan stood at the foot of the stairs, excitement beginning to build within him. He was ready to begin. In a moment, the ceiling over the stairs lit up. Dan raced to the steps and climbed them, emerging on the second floor.

Aside from a low wall to guard where the stairs came up, the second floor was completely bare except for two identical cylinders of glass, set side by side, big enough for Dan to lie down in if he wanted to. Various metal casings and thick cords of wires protruded from their sides, bolting them to the floor, ceiling, and wall behind them. RR had called them SR Units.

One of the contraptions was open, its glass door ajar exactly like Dan had left it the previous day. The second Unit was closed. It had always been closed. It looked exactly like the first Unit, and Dan had always wondered why there were two. He only used the first, and the second had never opened anyway, even though Dan had tried a few times.

Dan ran the length of the room. It wasn’t far, but he could still get five or six strides in. At the far wall, he leaned outwards, putting his head as close to the Barrier as he dared, trying to see beyond the wall, to where those flickering lights had been. It was no use. The wall went out too far. Dan had never been able to see past it.

The first SR Unit lit up, its glass walls emitting the faintest of glows. Dan turned towards it, but then, without warning, the floor shook and there was a great, reverberating rumble overhead. Dan crouched down, hands pressed against his ears, looking up at the ceiling fearfully. He had heard the sound a few times before, but he still didn’t know what it was or why it happened. It frightened him. It was too loud. Too sudden. Too unpredictable.

It’s okay, son, said a voice in Dan’s head. Up you get. It’s gone now. The shaking had indeed stilled, and the sound had gone as quickly as it had come. Dan glanced down at Mother, still watching him. The sight was reassuring.

That’s it, said the voice as Dan got to his feet. There was, of course, no voice in Dan’s mind, only his imagination. When Dan was frightened though, he liked to imagine someone there to protect him. Someone strong. A father, perhaps. His father. Dan hadn’t the faintest idea what his father had looked like. He knew he must have had one, but he had no memory of either him or his real mother. Just the voices he made up for them in his head. It was all right. After all, he had Mother and RR. They would never leave him.

Everything was silent now, so Dan quickly crossed to the SR Unit and stepped inside, closing the glass door behind him. It was here that Dan spent his days. He would have it no other way.

RR had told Dan what the SR Unit was, and what it did. He had been very young when she had explained it, so he hadn’t understood most of it, but he knew it was a simulator. It was capable of creating almost anything, though RR had told Dan that she and the others like her controlled exactly what it made.

It was more than a mere simulation though. The air changed temperature, the water was wet, and sharp edges hurt. Dan knew that these things were not illusions. Once he had left the SR Unit after trying to cross a stream, and his clothes had been wet. Once he had fallen on some rocks, and while not cut, his arms were bruised afterwards. And while the Unit was small, it somehow enabled him to run as long he wanted to. He ran, swam, and even climbed in the SR Unit. There was no telling where it would take him. That was why he woke up excited each day.

Dan stood in the middle of the SR Unit now, waiting expectantly. The door sealed behind him. He knew that it wouldn’t let him out until several hours later, at the end of the day. That was fine with Dan. His breakfast kept him full, and the SR Unit was far too much fun to leave anyway.

For a few seconds nothing happened. Then a white mist filled the Unit, hiding Dan’s home from view completely. Dan could feel it eddying past him, and moisture began accumulating on his skin and in his short hair. RR had told him that the mist eased the transitions between simulations. Any moment now it would disperse, and Dan would find himself in a new place. A grin spread across his face. Where would he go today?

Exactly twelve and a half hours later, the door to the SR Unit opened, and Dan staggered out, tired but happy. He had spent the day running through fields, crossing streams, climbing cliffs, and a host of other activities. The SR Unit wasn’t usually as taxing, but Dan found the exercise fun. The ceiling over the stairs clicked on, and Dan obediently went down them, the lights in the SR Unit shutting off as he left.

This time Dan went to the second room on the first floor: the bathroom. Here he deposited his dirty clothes in a basin on the wall, and stepped into a square marked on the floor. Almost instantly, a jet of warm water doused him.

There were no walls to the shower. Mother continued to watch Dan, even as she had done all day long while he was in the SR Unit. Dan saw her a few times through the water, watching him, but the only thing he felt was happiness that she was there, and reassurance that she was watching over him. The fact was that Dan didn’t have the faintest inkling that showers are supposed to have walls, or why. His never had, and it was the only shower he had ever known.

After he had scrubbed himself clean, the water turned off and Dan grabbed a nearby towel. His dirty clothes had somehow been cleaned and folded while he was showering, and when he was dry, Dan put them on. They were warm and soft to the touch.

The ceiling clicked on in front of the hall, and Dan automatically hung the towel back where it belonged and left the bathroom. He ate his dinner, watched the slab of metal slide back into the wall, and then got up and put the chair away.

The ceiling clicked on in the bedroom. The bed had been cleaned while Dan was in the SR Unit, and the sheets were warm and soft. Dan burrowed deep into them, his eyes already heavy with sleep.

The light in the ceiling clicked off, slowly fading away until all Dan could see was Mother’s single red eye, still watching him.

“Goodnight, Mother,” Dan called. There was no reply, but Dan didn’t need one. He knew she would watch over him throughout the night. Dan let out a contented sigh, and then rolled onto his side, dropped his head to his pillow, and was asleep almost instantly. Tomorrow he would do it all again.

He could hardly wait.