I opened my eyes to extreme calm and nothingness. The world was white. I was in a great expanse of it. Drifting.

The car accident.

My gut reaction was I was in a hospital. Lying in a bed watching an empty ceiling. How long had I been here?

A man behind me cleared his throat. "Tod Lonnerman, I presume?"

I blinked and focused. Realized I was standing up. I spun around. In the complete absence of any background, the motion was disorienting. I was moving but I wasn't. Then the man came into view. He settled in front of me as I stopped, standing casually with his weight on one leg, cradling a tablet in his arm, and looking like he could use a coffee.

My demeanor wasn't nearly as ordinary. I stooped in front of him with my arms splayed to either side, wary of falling.

He looked me up and down and waited patiently. If he wanted something from me, he didn't get it. I stayed hunched in place like a cat trying to blend in with a wood floor.

The man was getting on in years. Thinning white hair and a matching wraparound beard. He wore a strange golden twig around his head like a crown. Come to think of it, everything about him was strange. He was dressed in a full toga, cream-colored except for a stripe of maroon along the edge.

He frowned and marked something on his tablet with a stylus. At this point I noted it was an actual stone tablet.

"You are Tod Lonnerman," he said. "Please confirm."

"Tad. I'm Tad Lonnerman. Where am I?"

He squinted at his tablet critically. "We'll get to that." His stylus traced a checkmark.

I was still a bag of nerves. He was the only thing in the room that wasn't pure white so I found myself staring at his footwear. Straps ran over open feet and up half his shins. He had strangely buff calves for a man his age.

"Nice sandals," I said.

"You should see yourself," he returned without missing a beat.

I was naked except for a tan loincloth of dubious convenience. I threw my hands around it to keep it from falling.

"How do you feel?" asked the man while acting as if everything was wholly normal.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The car accident.

I looked myself over. My legs, arms. I twisted around to check my backside and felt at my head. Everything was where it was supposed to be. No blood, no wounds or stitches.

"I feel... strange."

His stylus paused over the tablet. "Strange?"

"Well, it's like—I don't feel bad, so that's good, I guess. But at the same time, I don't really feel good. You know what I mean?"

He studied me blankly. "I see. That's not altogether unexpected." He continued down his checklist. "And do you remember your accident, Tod?"

"Tad."

"What?"

"My name's Tad."

The man checked the tablet for verification. "So it is. Do you remember the accident?"

The car accident.

"Of course I do." I studied the white space. "I must be on some really amazing pain meds right now. What happened? Where are we?"

His eyes remained on the tablet but he answered. "Focus testing indicates it's better to let residents ease into the realization rather than tell them right off the bat."

"Tell them what?"

"Would you mind doing a few calisthenic drills for me? Some jumps or sprints. Anything that comes to mind."

"What?" I asked, getting annoyed. "Wait a minute. Where are we? I wanna know what's going on."

I stomped past the old man. The white background was so absolute that I couldn't distinguish the floor from the wall, much less find any doors. I circled him quickly, making two full revolutions before I realized it was pointless. I spun angrily.

"Yes, yes," he said. "That will be enough. Thank you."

I smoldered, red as a beet. "Look, buddy—"

"You're not on pain meds. You're not dreaming or hallucinating or suffering a nervous breakdown. Simply put, you're dead, Tod. You're dead and your collective consciousness has been uploaded to a redundant server farm owned by Kablammy Games."

I blinked quickly and fell backwards a step. "It's Tad," I whispered.

I looked around again, absorbing his words. The wide open space was suddenly claustrophobic. I found myself huddling closer to the old man, the only thing around me besides oblivion. As he scribbled on his tablet, I raised a cautious finger and pressed it into his forehead.

He was solid. I felt him, in the flesh.

"Yup, great pain meds," I concluded.

He swatted my hand away with the stylus. "You're not one of those close talkers, are you?"

I took a meek step away. "Sorry." I kept my raised finger in the air.

He sighed. "You don't need to raise your hand if you have a question. Just ask."

"Right. Are you saying I'm in a simulation right now? Like virtual reality?"

"VR?" The old guy snickered. "All reality is perception. There's nothing virtual about this. You're experiencing a brand-new technology. State-of-the-art DR."

"D—" I strained trying to fill in the blanks.

"This is pure digital reality, young man. Your new reality, I might add. Welcome to a brave new era. A second chance at life."

Life. I'd kinda liked my first one. I remained silent a moment, then asked, "Are you...?"

"Real? Yes. I'm not an AI, if that's what you mean. But I'm not dead either. I'm a real, live human, interfacing in DR to personally welcome you. Focus testing indicates new residents prefer a human touch."

"Focus testing," I repeated, having flashbacks from work. "You're testing the afterlife?"

"Beta testing to be exact. Kablammy has spent years perfecting this technology. Not only is the sum of your consciousness residing in a server farm, but you have access to the latest and greatest online role-playing game ever created."

I stared, dumbfounded. "Heaven is an MMO?"