It was dark. Your head felt fuzzy, and the humming of air conditioning and vents filled your ears as you rubbed your eyes, only now realizing that they were closed. You begrudgingly pried them open, your heart nearly stopping at the sight in front of you— a small, bland room with a monitor at the other side. You were seated in a futuristic chair, and a multicolored pinwheel stood across from you, busy at the computer desk. This wasn't your house!

"Alright, dude. Settle down and I'll have you recovered in no t—" The pinwheel turned, only to find that the object in the recovery chair was not the one he was assigned. He froze, then turned his back to you and pressed a button on his watch. "Management... We have a problem."