The sunlight filtering through the canopy above seemed almost too vivid to be real. Dappled beams danced across the forest floor, painting it with gold and green. The air was alive—sweet with the scent of blossoms, tinged with the faint musk of the earth. Birds sang unfamiliar melodies, and somewhere in the distance, the sound of rushing water echoed faintly.

I blinked, sitting up slowly. My fingers sank into the soft, dew-kissed grass. A gentle breeze caressed my face, and I realized I was smiling. “So this is it,” I murmured, my voice shaky with disbelief and wonder. “The multiverse.”

I stood, brushing off my clothes—simple but sturdy garments provided for me, their origin unknown. Around my neck, a faintly glowing pendant pulsed softly, its light fading into obscurity when I tried to touch it. I didn’t know what it meant yet, but I felt no fear. Only awe.

“Alrighty,” I said to myself, looking around, excitement building at the chance to explore this new world. “Let’s get this adventure started.”

I took my first steps, heading for the trees. A strange feeling churned in my gut—the kind I used to get when I had a particularly bad patient in the back of my ambulance. I felt as if I needed to explore, learn, and fix or change something wrong with this place. I knew what I was getting myself into when I made my request to leave Earth. As I continued walking, memories of how I got here started flooding back.

It was another day at my station. The civil war was ongoing, the Feds slowly but surely gaining ground. Unfortunately, my home state was on the losing side of the conflict. I was an Emergency Medical Technician. I got lucky and wasn’t asked to fight since I was a first-generation immigrant—too suspicious to fight for the Free States. But apparently, I wasn’t too suspicious to be drafted into a statewide first responder corps tasked with evacuating civilians and rendering aid wherever we could.

I remember being in the ambulance bay, trying to get some sleep before the next wave of bombings started. Then the tones dropped—a loud, grating wail of sound—followed by dispatch’s voice: “Attention Station 54, you are responding to 34 Creedmire Street. Home is still occupied. Civilians need to be evacuated.”

I heard my partner murmur, “We’re a friggin’ ambulance. Send fire or PD,” before getting on the radio and answering, “Medic 3 en route, Code 3. Are the combatting sides notified of our dispatch?”

“That’s a positive, Medic 3. Both sides are giving you a window of 30 minutes before resuming hostilities,” dispatch replied.

“10-4. Medic 3 out.” He turned to me and said, “C’mon, Yunis. We gotta earn that paycheck.”

I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up. “Bro, they don’t pay us,” I grumbled. He chuckled as he started the truck and engaged the lights and sirens.

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The thing about this war was that both sides—the federal government and the Free States—had agreed that harming civilians was a big no. If civilians were in or near a combat zone, both sides would temporarily cease fire to allow them a chance to leave or for first responders to evacuate them. Hence why my partner and I were hauling ass toward a future combat zone.

I didn’t pay attention to the road as we drove, focusing instead on praying that I would survive another day. These days, EMS had a different kind of turnover rate. Even though both sides agreed not to harm civilians, the reality on the ground was far different. War creates monsters, and those monsters only saw us—and the civilians—as future soldiers. They would take us out the moment they could, especially a brown idiot in a reflective shirt.

We arrived at the address. “Adam! You call in to dispatch?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “In a sec. Let me put on this godforsaken vest.” He struggled to get his girth around the issued bulletproof vest.

“I don’t know why you bother, man. Those things won’t stop a .22,” I said.

He just gave me a smirk. “It’s to look professional.”

It took us a minute to get ready and make our way to the house. As we reached the door, I knocked. “Hello! First responders! Anyone home?”

No answer.

I turned to Adam and asked, “Did they say where exactly the civvies are located?”

He shrugged. Then, we heard rustling behind the door. Suddenly, it creaked open, revealing a disheveled older woman. I’d have put her in her sixties, but she was so covered in dirt and grime she might have been younger.

“Hello, ma’am. We’re first responders. You need to leave the area—fighting will start here soon,” I said in the most professional tone I could muster.

Her face turned pale—well, paler than it already was. Without a word, she turned and ran deeper into the house.

I glanced at Adam. “Do we follow her or...?”

He grinned at me and ran inside, yelling, “Ma’am, it’s dangerous here! We have to go!”

I sighed. “What happened to ‘BSI, is my scene safe?’ Oh right—the friggin’ war.” Then, I followed my literally suicidal partner.

The sounds of helicopters and gunfire from the memory faded as my focus returned to the present. The gentle hum of life around me was a stark contrast to the chaos I had left behind. I stopped walking, touching the pendant around my neck again. Its glow pulsed faintly, as if urging me onward.

Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of rushing water caught my attention. I smiled to myself. “Well, I asked for this. Time to see what’s out there.”

With that, I stepped forward into the unknown.

I found a small stream, and sat by it to rest a little. I go for a drink of water from the stream, the water was incredibly clear, I cup some water into my hand and take few sips. Noticing my bronze skin tone, I chuckle to myself, ‘somethings shouldn’t change’. I wash my face, head, hands, forearms and feet and make a quick prayer, after a finish I feel a sense of power, like never before. I stand and do some stretches; I suddenly feel the urge to jump. I follow my urges and jump higher then ever before. The sense of power still flows inside, but slightly diminished now. I suddenly get the feeling that I should pick up something heavy, I look around and see a fallen tree. I walk over to it, squat, and slide my hands under the mossy wood, carefully and as if I am willing strength into my legs and try to lift the aged fallen tree, and to my surprise I lift the tree up into a bicep curl position. What started out as giggle morphed into great chest deep laughter, I tried to raise up the tree above my head, and succeeded, I posed a little and gently let the tree fall to the ground.

I felt that the power I suddenly gained was greatly diminished, I wanted to experiment more, but the sudden urge to move overcame me.