It was in the third century of my exile into the virtual world assigned to me when I encountered the Lunch Lady.
My spinal fluid (the real meatspace stuff) was being harvested to add a choice “seasoning” to the food of our ultra-dimensional overlords. It turns out that I am part of the 3% of the humans that have rarified spinal fluid… I’m finally part of the elite! Yay!
They gave me a choice “life” to live while they milked me. It was part adventure story, part erotic thriller, and part music video. So it was a surprise when my living room turned into a high school cafeteria serving area.
“You are late again little Jimmy,” said a woman’s pinched mouth while her pinched eyes accused me. “No sloppy joe for you today. Just this pistol.”
I looked down and saw my small, child-hands holding some sort of ray gun.
“Now,” she said looking invitingly, “Make sure you eat all the food on your plate.”
I was suddenly and extremely hungry for whatever came out of that barrel. I just knew it would be the tastiest of treats. I put the barrel of the strange gun in my mouth, winked at the lunch lady, and pulled the trigger.
My meatspace eyes opened. I was in some sort of encounter suit with tubes and cables. I looked up and saw that the biological computer my suit was hooked up to was dead. It smelled like a rotting frog I found once.
I clumsily got myself out of the suit (it was going to take a while to get my strength and coordination back) and looked around.
Everything was broken and deserted and insectoid scientists, still wearing their chitinous lab coats, were dead around me.
What the fuck had happened?
