The key fit into the lock, and I gave it a twist. The old lock fell away and disappeared before it hit the ground. I pulled the door open and stepped inside.

It felt muggy. The greenhouse wasn’t big. Two rectangular soil beds stood on either side, full of dead plants like nothing had been touched in years. In the back was a broken soil bed with a mountain of other junk on the ground.

I just had to get one soil bed ready, and find an axe. Despite this greenhouse being about the same size as the garage, it wasn’t nearly as stuffed with junk. I searched through the pile of fallen soil and dead plants to find a small shovel and garden fork, which was a win. There was also a bag of fertilizer, which I put to the side, because that definitely felt important. Once that was done, I chose my soil bed and started digging up the dead plants. Despite not remembering if I ever had a green thumb in my old life, there was something about my overalls that seemed to take over, and I knew what to do. I dug up the old plants, then used the fork to break up the soil already in there. My hands then took over as I did that through the entire rectangle, and I could almost see a nice sheen come over the garden soil bed.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my to do list. Finding the key and preparing a soil bed had been crossed out, and it was almost the afternoon. Which meant I had the rest of the day to finish today’s list before the evil overlords decided to torture me with things that could hurt my sanity bar. I just had to find the axe, and I was on my way.

It didn’t take me long searching through the pile of stuff in the greenhouse to find it. It was rusty, but it was there. I stood up, brushing myself off as I gripped the small axe. Some of those trees out there were thick, and this axe didn’t feel nearly as sturdy when I walked out of the greenhouse and compared the trunks of those trees. But who knows. If I could clean out a garage without wearing gloves or shoes, I could chop down a full tree with this tiny hand axe.

The ground was uneven with patches of grass. Considering the inside of the house, the outside didn’t surprise me that it wasn’t the most groomed. Those dead flowers by the front porch seriously made me sad. Eventually I would get there, but I needed to make sure I was safe, first.

I walked up to one of the trees that was uncomfortably close to the house and started whacking. I watched a chunk of my stamina bar disappear. It seemed like a lot, though I wondered if that was somehow connected to my soil bed. I hadn’t noticed if any of that took away from my stamina, so I picked up the axe again and thwacked it against the tree. More stamina disappeared, and maybe it was my imagination, but it didn’t seem as big of a chunk. I just really didn’t want so much of my stamina disappearing for every axe hit.

Nine thwacks later, the tree groaned before falling to the ground. I had a small bit of stamina left, even though I couldn’t feel the exhaustion. For whatever reason, I didn’t feel the exhaustion and no doubt wouldn’t until the stamina was gone. Game logic. That’s what I chalked it up to.

Speaking of game logic, once the tree hit the ground, the branches disappeared and three logs hit the ground. I frowned, approaching them. There was a lot more that went into making a tree turn into a log. I didn’t know how it would turn into firewood, but I had a thought.

I picked up the axe and smacked one of the logs. The log disappeared, turning into a perfectly cut board. I raised an eyebrow, and my curiosity was too much, so I whacked the board again and there were two bundles of firewood on the ground, picturesquely bound.

“Nice,” I said.

I whacked the second log until it, too, became a picturesque bunch of firewood. When I got to the last log, my arm was suddenly a thousand pounds, and I could not lift it even if my life depended on it. My stamina was gone.

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“Alright,” I said, straightening. “I guess I better eat.”

Almost three days, and it was time to eat. I didn’t feel any of the hunger pains from not eating for three days. Game logic. All this was game logic, yet in real life.

“If this is some experiment, I don’t know how I feel about it,” I said as I walked through the back door into the covered back porch. “Your virtual reality sucks, because it’s not realistic. Look at me.” I lifted my hands, turning them around. “I’ve cleaned out oily junk from the garage, prepared a soil bed in a green house, and chopped down a tree and my hands are clean as ever. Not even any blisters. Just to prove that it’s not that big of deal, I’m not even going to wash my hands before I eat…” I hesitated before opening the fridge. I started to wonder why, when the rest of the electricity didn’t work, that the fridge remained cold. I about asked them, when I realized maybe I didn’t want them to know, because they might turn off the fridge and I’d have to find a different way to keep the food cool without electricity in summertime.

Though… it didn’t matter if I said it out loud. They’ve been able to read thoughts.

“Are you guys aliens, or something?” I asked, pulling out a gallon of cool milk. “Is this what it all is? Have you abducted me and is this how you’re probing me? Because if you are, I want you to know that I still expect you to treat me with dignity. I’ve heard stories about what aliens do, and I’m not interested in that level of investigation.”

I grabbed a clean bowl from the cupboard and a bag of off brand lucky charms. I sat down at the clutter free cherry table and ate, watching my stamina creep up until it was a quarter of the way full. I crinkled my nose. “That doesn’t seem like enough.”

So, I poured another bowl. The other super odd thing about never feeling hungry, is I never felt full, either. In fact, the game logic was there in that I took three bites of cereal and a drink of the milk and it was gone. It was rather fast.

I finished my second bowl, receiving another quarter of stamina. “Also, how am I going to cook when there’s no electricity?” I eyed the stove curiously but decided to keep talking. “And milk? How am I going to replenish my milk supply? Usually in these games there’s a barn or something to gather cows and chickens. I didn’t see a barn out there. Also, there’s usually a village I can walk to that has a bunch of NPC’s I can buy from and talk to, because isolation is no joke. You start talking to yourself a lot,” I said to the ceiling.

I sighed, pouring myself a third bowl of off-brand lucky charms. I needed my stamina all the way full. Chopping down one tree wiped out all my stamina, so I needed to stock up.

“I wouldn’t mind a barn with a cow,” I said again to no one except the aliens probing me to study human nature. “Or chickens. I could gather eggs every day.” My gaze fell on the stove again. “I’m assuming there’s a way to start cooking in this game, too. Because… there’s usually a way to cook in these games.”

Three bites, drink the milk, watch as the stamina reached seventy-five percent, pour another bowl.

“These groceries can only get me so far. And despite the fridge working, the stove isn’t.” I froze. Every time I talked, I always said something I didn’t mean to. “I really appreciate the fridge working, by the way. Please let the fridge keep working. And maybe the stove, too? Can you let that turn on?”

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek before finishing my fourth bowl of cereal. My stamina was all the way full, and I hopped off the chair and placed the milk back in the fridge. It was halfway gone, and I only had one more gallon. For a moment, I felt the worry of what it would be like to ration out the food. The need to eat a piece of bread once a day so I wouldn’t have to go a day without food. It was always better to eat a small portion of something rather than not eat anything all day.

I blinked, the instinct gone. I stared again at the empty fridge, cocking my head to one side. That was odd. It wasn’t a memory, that was an instinct. One ingrained inside my head. So much a part of me that I knew what it was like to stare at an empty fridge and start to make a plan on how to lengthen the meager meals inside it.

“I’ve been starving before, haven’t I,” I said. Either to the aliens or the evil overlords. Whoever it was who were making me play out this game. Though, in all honesty, I said it mostly to myself. It was a clue to who I once was. A primal instinct that couldn’t be wiped like a memory. Much like how much I hated horror.

Speaking of which, it was time to finish my to-do list.