Tick tock, tick tock.It was the only sound in the office.
The clock, hanging on one of the walls, rang out like bells announcing an imminent execution. It read 22:15.
A 26-year-old man was the only one left. Sitting in front of a computer, typing as if his life depended on it.
—If I don't finish this report before midnight… I'm done for.
The whisper faded into the empty office. His voice sounded tired, strained, filled with fear and anxiety.
It wasn't an exaggeration.
The company he worked for was strict. One mistake, a poorly written report, or a delay meant immediate termination. No explanations. No second chances.
For him, losing his job meant more than just being fired.
It meant losing his health insurance.It meant not being able to pay rent on his tiny apartment.It meant falling.
His face showed a mix of fear and desperation. The email he had received was clear: the report had to be finished before midnight.
His hand trembled over the mouse, numb from carpal tunnel syndrome.
Suddenly, his heart lurched violently.
A wave of anxiety rose up his throat. The cubicle walls seemed to close in on him. The air conditioning, always cold, no longer felt like anything.
He began to sweat cold.
—I have to finish… if I don't, I'll lose my job…
His fingers slammed against the keyboard, desperate, but they wouldn't respond. They felt heavy. Slow. Not his own.
Then it happened.
The screen did something it wasn't supposed to do.
The colors inverted. The white document turned into an abyss of black, while the letters glowed in an electric cyan.
A high-pitched hum came from the monitor, an unbearable frequency that pierced his ears.
He tried to move away, but his legs wouldn't respond. After more than eight hours sitting, they were completely numb, stuck to the floor.
—No, no, no…! Not now! This can't be happening! Please… I don't want to lose my job! Don't do this to me!
He slammed the keyboard in panic.
If the computer failed now, he would lose everything.
And that meant being fired.
The hum grew louder, second by second, until it became something like a turbine roaring.
The light from the monitor began to expand.
First, it swallowed the desk.Then the stapler.The picture of his dog—the one that was gone.And finally… him.
He felt himself falling.
When it was over, the only thing left in the office was an ID card with his name:
Caelum Donald VesperAbbreviated as: Caelum D. Vesper
—
—The report! The report!
Caelum jolted upright, shouting at the top of his lungs.
His hands searched desperately for the keyboard… but found only something grainy and warm.
He froze.
He opened his eyes, expecting the harsh white office lights.
Instead, a lash of sunlight hit his face, burning his vision.
He brought his hands to his face, trembling, tears forming from pure panic.
—Where am I…? What is this place…?
His voice was weak, cautious. His expression—completely broken.
He looked around, searching for something familiar.
There was nothing.
His mind locked as the truth hit him.
He was sitting on a white sand beach.The ocean stretched endlessly before him.
No cubicles.No files.Only the crashing of waves… and the wind.
He stood up, unsteady.
In another situation, someone might think: "Am I in another world?"But not him.
His first thought was different.
"I'm going to get fired."
—Damn it… what time is it?
He fumbled through his pockets.
—My phone… where's my phone?
He found it.
But it was broken. The screen shattered. It wouldn't turn on.
He dropped to his knees.
Clutched his head.
The anxiety exploded.
He was hyperventilating.
—This has to be some kind of joke… I can't be here! I have to finish the report before midnight! If I don't turn it in, my supervisor will kill me!
He turned toward the vegetation behind him.
—Hey! Is anyone there!? Cut it out already! I need to go back! Please!
Silence.
Only birds.
Nothing else.
He turned and ran toward the sea. His leather shoes slipped on the wet sand as he screamed toward the horizon.
He wasn't thinking about adventure.He wasn't thinking about freedom.
He was thinking about his contract.His work record.His life… falling apart.
His tie tightened around his neck like a noose.
He loosened it with trembling hands, crying in frustration.
—I don't know how to swim… I don't know where I am…
He looked at his hands.
Covered in sand. Red from the sun.
But they were still the same hands.
Office worker hands.No calluses.No strength.No scars.
Nothing special.
Just an ordinary 26-year-old man.Weak.Afraid.
Wearing a suit that no longer meant anything.
The sun began to set, painting the sky red before fading into darkness.
Hunger came.
Not the kind you ignore with a vending machine snack.
This was real.
Raw.
Caelum sat beneath a palm tree, hugging his knees, trembling at every sound coming from the jungle.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Hoping to wake up.
To return to his cubicle.To the sound of typing.To his life.
But when he opened them…
All he saw was a dark sky full of stars.
—It's… a beautiful view…
His voice was barely a whisper.
—Something you don't see in a concrete jungle…
And then it hit him.
He didn't know how to make fire.He didn't know how to find fresh water.He didn't know how to defend himself.
He didn't know how to live.
—Tomorrow is Monday…
His voice cracked.
—Tomorrow is Monday… and it'll be the first day I miss work…
On that lonely beach, there were no heroes.
No chosen ones.
Only a man.
A "human resource"…
Lost in a world that had no need for reports or audits.
A world where, for the first time in his life…
He was truly alone.