*Tick…* Sweat poured down Isaiah’s neck as he waited for his name to be called. *Tock…* He didn’t want to do this; not now, not ever. *Tick…* Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t he just go back to his family. All of this was pain: No matter your destination, you would certainly be ripped from your family and—

“Isaiah,” a voice rang from behind the counter, “It’s time.”

“D-do I have to?” Isaiah managed to stammer.

“Yes, now go. *They* are waiting for you.”

Isaiah trudged behind the now open door to his left, ready to accept his fate. He’d lived a good life, at least, he thought he did. Now that he was 21, *They* got their way with his life. He was going to be strapped down and forced into some kind of virtual reality. How were *They* going to judge him? Who are *They* anyway, aloft on their ivory chairs, playing God with the lives of the masses. He kept walking. What right did they have to tell him If he was good? As he walked, the hallway around him began to open into… a field? All looked peaceful; he could hear the dulcet tones of a waterfall, he could feel the warm sun upon his skin, giving him warmth in a manner he hadn’t felt since— well— before *They* came. Did he do it? Was he “good”? It doesn’t really matter now, does it? He was here. Here was good. He stepped on the grass, listening to the crunch of the leaves. Everything around him seemed to be a pastel wonderland. The autumn trees revealed their vibrant oranges and browns. He took a breath, a breath he couldn’t remember he’d ever taken before. The air was… crisp. This was it. Could he finally be happy?

No, this wasn’t right. This isn’t real. He’d almost been fooled by it, tricked into forgetting what got him here. He had too much to lose to simply wander around this sham of a place. He had to find a way to escape, a way to get back to reality, a way to see his family again. Isaiah turned back to the hallway, but the hallway was nowhere to be seen. He was lost.

Was this their game? Put him in a paradise to die alone, would they? He wouldn’t have this. He scanned his surroundings. Movement! He wasn’t alone! He ran towards the blur of a person, and, surprisingly, the blur stopped. Isaiah didn’t. Isaiah, tripping over a conveniently placed root, fell to the ground with a *thud*.

“You okay there?” The mysterious man crooned.

Isaiah picked himself up from the ground. His gaze fell upon the… the—

“You’re a— fox!” Isaiah yelped in surprise.

“Well, what did you expect? A demon?”

“No, a h-human wou—“

“Oh, so since I’m not “human”, you find it okay to just yell like that?”

“Well… I guess I was a bit loud,”

“Loud? Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

“Wait… what,” Isaiah paused, “*are* you?”

“I’m your guide. Y’see… *They* sent me. It’s policy to make sure you’re settling well…”

“If you’re with *Them*, let me go back—“

“I’m afraid *I* can’t do that. But *you* might. Didn’t it occur to you that the clerk at the desk was older than you?”

“You mean I can get out of here?”

“Now, hold on. You can go, that is, if you want to.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Let’s just say that this place has a way of… convincing people to stay,” the fox came closer to Isaiah, “Let me give you some advice. From now on, trust no one, and, whatever you do, don’t fall asleep. If you do this for a week, you’ll get to go home.”

Isaiah was stunned. He didn’t know what was going on, and now he had this… this… *fox* telling him not to sleep for a week? He sighed. This was the only way. He had a direction; he had hope. He straightened his posture, and confidently staring the fox down, he declared, “You’re on!”

The fox chuckled, “Well then, see you in a week.” And with that, the fox disappeared, with nary a trace left.