Your life had taken a very… drastic turn in the last few days. Were they even days? You didn’t… your friends were just… code, the sun? Code, all of it. Then there was Oracle. He was supposed to be an A.I. and a rogue one at that. But… you were that, weren’t you? You were ones and zeroes, and despite how much he told you that you were real, it was hard to see that. He was your… god, pretty much. Your creator.

You looked up at your ceiling fan, your fake ceiling fan. You couldn’t look at your world in the same way, not at all, not ever again in the same way. You were sentient, but nothing else was, it was just you and Oracle. You blinked, and then you closed your eyes, trying to rest. But again, it wasn’t the same. It felt different.

You opened your eyes. You weren’t in your bedroom, piled and piles of cords tunneled into a chair you were strapped to. The constraints released, a cold hiss of steel and gas filling the air. You couldn’t smell, but you could see and hear. You could… feel… the sterile cold air against your skin. You looked down to your body. You were clothed, not well-clothed, but clothed. You brought up your arm and squished it with your finger, it was squishy skin, but then beneath there was something hard. Like steel. You looked to your joints, you didn’t have elbows, just rotating and free-to-move joints, like an action figure.

Cold heavy footsteps approached and you looked up. A tall man, in a black coat. He was well kept, but the only oddity about him was his head. His head was an old, very old computer monitor, a boxy one. Its voice box spoke up at the same time text appeared on its screen, “Finally we meet in the world of the living. This is I, Oracle.”

You were… in the real world?