"Welcome, chosen ones, to the Universal Land. Today, your long-awaited wish comes true."
Hundreds of us stood scattered across floating platforms suspended in a cloudy, white void. Gravity felt optional — some platforms hung upside down, yet the people on them stood firmly, peering at us with the same confusion we gave them. Space itself seemed distorted: those close appeared far, and the distant ones loomed eerily near. My stomach churned. I lowered my head to stop the swirling sensation.
It should've been loud — a realm full of startled people abducted into the sky — but silence pressed on us like a held breath. No one screamed. No one whispered. Everyone just... watched. Confused. Still. Like a collective pause button had been hit.
The silence reminded me of novels where the protagonist handles chaos with a poker face. But if everyone was playing that role... who was left to be the comic relief?
"You have all wished to run away from everything at least once in your lives. That wish has now been granted," the voice echoed again — light, squeaky, and jarringly unfitting.
A rat-sized creature appeared, hovering midair like it owned the place. With giant ears, twitchy paws, and a crooked grin, it looked like a rejected cartoon sidekick. A literal talking mouse was giving us a dramatic monologue.
I blinked. Of course. Of course this is how my escapist fantasy would manifest. A condescending rodent.
Not that I was surprised. I did want out. Not dramatically, not daily like those TikTok girls having weekly crises — but enough. Once in a lifetime? Yeah, that tracks.
Another old thought surfaced, one I whispered like a mantra: Keep it together. If you fall apart now, it'll be impossible to find your pieces later. It had gotten me through days where everything felt a shade too heavy. But in this silence, the thought didn't comfort. It sounded like foreshadowing.
"Another version of you is currently living in your stead on Earth," the creature chirped.
Wait. Another me? As in, living my life... better? That felt like both wish fulfillment and a cruel joke. I used to imagine that. Back when I was thirteen and thought my problems would vanish with a haircut and confidence.
"The part of yourself you've always hidden was large enough to manifest into a new being. That is the self summoned here. You may return to Earth by jumping off the platform. Stay, and your survival is in your hands."
There was no floor. Just mist. Would people fall forever? Or smack into an invisible bottom?
I looked up. A girl stood directly above me, watching. She looked barely seventeen. Her face mirrored mine — uncertain, suspended.
The mouse gave a final smirk before popping out of existence. Dramatic, sure, but it was still a mouse. Hard to feel threatened when all I could think about was cheese.
"I have to go back. My family needs me."
A middle-aged man with an American accent stepped off. Instead of falling, he floated upward and vanished into the mist.
Another person shouted, "My dog!" and leapt.
Then it began — a steady stream of jumpers. Screams, sobs, and even wordless determination echoed, yet each sound came to me in perfect clarity. It was like my mind could filter the audio at will, focusing on one voice while muting the rest.
Still, I hesitated. There was comfort in the unknown. Terrifying, yes — but real choice was rare.
What did "survival is in your hands" even mean? If someone else had taken over my life, maybe they were doing better. Maybe they deserved it more.
I looked around. Not everyone had jumped. A pale guy with snow-white hair stood like a statue. An elegant, dark-skinned woman with electric blue eyes met my gaze. Kids, barely ten, stared into the void. What kind of pain had they hidden to be summoned here?
Then I spotted her. Vanshika. Her platform drifted near mine, or maybe mine shifted. It was impossible to tell.
"Vanshika!" I waved.
She turned. Her face softened in recognition, but her eyes stayed guarded.
"You're here too?" she said.
"Didn't expect me?"
"Honestly, no. You always say what you think. I didn't think you had anything buried."
"Maybe I'm a system error."
She half-smiled. "I'm going back."
"You sure?"
"I can try."
"But what if it's real? What if someone else is already down there, living better than we ever did?"
"You've thought about this already?"
"Not really. Just vibing."
"You haven't changed, Ashleen." She glanced at the void. "It's easier to believe there's another me. But you? You're too... whole."
"Exactly. That's why I'm not going."
She paused. "What about Sid?"
That hit hard. Sid... the one person I couldn't stop worrying about.
Before I could answer, a voice rang out. "Hey, girls!"
We turned. My brother.
"I'll handle everything down there," he said with a grin. Then he jumped.
Just like that. Gone.
Silence again.
"So," Vanshika said, "what do you think 'survival' means here? There's no danger. No monsters."
"You're staying?"
"Now that Sid's down there, someone can explain things. No point in all of us going."
"Right... but think about it. No food. No water." Vanshika continued.
"Maybe it's like those manhwa you obsess over."
"You read novels too." She smiled.
"I think survival here isn't about basics. It's about us. Who we become."
Vanshika had always been the one who held things together. Technically my younger cousin, but emotionally older. She kept us afloat during the worst — checking in when I forgot how to, making jokes when I couldn't fake a smile, being responsible even when no one asked her to. I used to think she stayed calm because she didn't feel the weight. Now I wondered if it was just heavier for her.
Somewhere in that moment, something settled in me. Vanshika was still Vanshika. And I... I was still me. So what had I buried so deep, it split off into another version of me?
Maybe I was about to find out.
.Let's see how long it takes before I find the other me.