The door opens. The hallway is dim and moody, yet luxurious. Excessive even. John walks through the door to his right. His apartment, the one on the left at the very end of the corridor.

  John scans himself in, carefully opening the door, a flutter in his chest .He opens the door slowly and deliberately. Through the lounge window he sees the massive cityscape, but with a gold and orange horizon far into the distance.

  The horizon, glowing like a… well… something he's never really seen before. He opens the door fully, letting himself in and closing it behind him. He slowly approaches the view, enchanted by its majesty.

  It's glowing richness almost convincing his brain it should make him feel warm.

  In his trance, he almost ignores the noise from behind him. “John!” Amy yells leaving the sanitation room. Just as he looks at her, she envelops him in a big hug. John returns one in kind, patting her on the back.

  “It's good to see you.” He says. He points over to the horizon out the window, asking her. “What is that? It looks… beautiful.”

  Amy's face dims a little as he asks, a reminder of something unknown going off in her mind. “That's… a…” She tries to get out. “That's called the… Sun. I’ve seen it called.”

  “Son? Who's Son?” John asks innocently. Amy backs away, rubbing her temples as she recollects the details. “No John. Not like a son as in someone's kid. Like… the Sun! The one that's in the sky! Well… it's not really the Sun because that's just a projection. But that's what the Sun looks like John!”

  She waves out into the glowing horizon, John's attention present though the clues fall mute. “Uhh… you've lost me.”

  Amy sighs and walks away, grabbing the remote to the window. She turns it off, revealing the truth. The reality they are accustomed to. Black clouds. Neon drab. Fake desires and polymer exteriors.

  John's brain is thrown off at the interaction, having convinced himself of the view of his own volition.

  “It's not real John. Not anymore. It has been taken from us.” Amy says.

  “What? What do you mean?” John asks, feeling somewhat confused. His expectations were rather unmet. Amy rubs her eyes and sits down on the couch. John joins her, seeing her face slightly more drab and lost than he remembers.

  “Look John.” Amy sighs, sounding drained.

  “I've done a lot of research while you've been away. And… I really just can't even explain what I’ve discovered. Or, I guess I should I say… unearthed. It's like… my eyes have been opened, John.” She says, wiping her face with her palm.

  “You're just gonna have to see it for yourself. I… I wish I could explain.”

  Amy takes his hand and leads him into her room. The bed was pushed vertically against the wall, the cabinets turned into make-shift computer modules.

  Her digiphone projects unknown images onto the wall, and a virtual reality emulator sits square in the center of the room. The only light coming from the dim cityscape opposite them and the faint glows of technology.

  “Woah. Where the fuck did you get that from?” He asks worriedly, thinking of the cost of one of those things.

  “It doesn't matter.” Replies Amy. “What matters is what it will show you. I've seen what has been taken from us. A reason why things just seem so wrong. You need to see for yourself. P— please John. I just… you need to.”

  The room is quiet, Amy stands by the door with a grim look on her face. The city lights glow as John slowly approaches the virtual reality emulator device, the rain and wind slowly blowing outside to accentuate the eeriness of it all.

  He puts on the device, placing the goggles over his eyes. As it activates, all goes silent and fades to black. He closed his eyes, and heard a faint… chirping? In the background.

  More chirping. A faint, calm, soft wind. Like a fan yet not… is it somehow natural?

  Then, he opens his eyes, the sky and the world too bright to bear for a fleeting moment. But then… he sees?

  Green grass? Clouds of white? A blue sky? Wait… is he outside?

  Then why is it so bright? His pale, near albino face shines from this mighty light emanating from the sky.

  He struggles, squinting up; peering through the gaps of his fingers. It appears like a harsher version of that thing. That… Sun, he saw earlier.

  Except now it is high in the sky and….the sky is blue somehow?

  Light blue. Like… well. There is nothing quite like it anymore.

  Who could’ve known there was a sky like that? Why is the sky blue?

  The modern day feels… almost claustrophobic in comparison. He thought the sky was the clouds. But instead, it is something beyond. Is it— this… true sky— is it always up there?

  His eyes adjust further as do his ears.

  He listens to the sound of crickets and other unseen creatures, along with what sounds like the rustle of a plastic bag. Except it is coming from the trees. Trees with green leaves that are bright and luscious.

  Non-metallic; fleshy trunks rooting them deep into the ground. A far cry from pale, unmoving ceramic.

  They swayed beautifully. Gracefully. Hypnotically even— John remained transfixed on them.

  They blow lightly in the wind, like the breeze of an ebbing fan.

  John rises finally; looking all at his surroundings. The dirt is brown and solid. It feels granular, as opposed to the dark purple tar he is used to from this world.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  A strange creature cruised through the sky, its face looking similar to some of the symbols commonly seen on brand logos.

  And finally, a different graceful creature flutters through the air towards him. He extends his hand out as it lands on him, feather light. Almost like butter, the small thing is so soft. The smell of his surroundings is unlike anything he can describe.

  Both organic… Yet also pleasant? The small creature leaves his hand to flutter off through a clearing in the foreign trees ahead. He follows it, looking throughout the gully in awe and wonder. And an overwhelming, eldritch sense of longing.

  He follows the creature through the trees. He doesn't even know why, it is just too captivating. Until finally, the trees clear for a mountainous vista that opens before him.

  Jagged rocky peaks pierced into the bright blue sky, casting titanic shadows into the cascading mountain valley below. A river blue, and clean, yes, clean water flowed through; reflecting the blue of the sky.

  It is overwhelming. A deluge of emotion washes over him as he bares witnesses to that which he never knew. To the left of the valley were rolling planes wrapped in blankets of lime green grass for miles. The clouds, still white, merely dotted the sky.

  And beyond, at the end of the valley, he saw an ocean of what looked to be pure water. As pure and as turquoise as something could ever be in his mind.

  The waves crashed against the beige sand along the shoreline; a far cry from the gravel bulwarks of the sulfuric seas he knows to be true.

  It is hard to accept. Not because it isn't real, but because it is sad to think that it was once. More of those creatures fly through the sky and towards the deep blue ocean. They squeak with a funny noise that echoes throughout the fresh air. A high pitch, squawk-like sound.

  And so he wanders in their general direction towards the plains; lost in this land which his eyes, ears and touch all tell him to be true.

  Before long, he walks upon a sleeping creature laying next to a gray boulder on the green grass.

  Its fur is orange and white, and its form is petite. He kneels down to pat the thing, finding it so odd and yet, adorable. But the creature wakes up, screaming at the sight of him before swiftly running away. John watches as it runs away from him; as the lime green hills and grass stretches until it kisses against the infinite blue horizon.

  He turns again to admire the crashing of the blue waves below the shadow of the white-capped mountain. The majesty of the hills and the basking, radiant glow of the Sun in the sky.

  Finally, looking back towards the tree clearing, he sees that small thing. That… butterfly. It approaches him to land again— its wings a mix of black, orange, and white. Like an animal monarch. Delicate sensory organs protruded from its face.

  John sheds a tear. His lips quiver. He struggles to… well. He really just struggles. “It's time to take it off John.” A feminine voice from the outside world tells him. His breath staggered, his voice wavy as he answered.

  “I… I do— don't w-want— t-to…” He pleaded, still holding that peaceful butterfly in his fingertips. It flies away, his eyes drifting with it.

  And then the goggles are removed from his face.

  Amy takes a step back as she removes them from his head from behind. John looks into the utter abyss that is the cityscape; an unrecognizable husk of the deluded.

  Unending, unnatural rain. Red-black clouds which spew lightning every minute. Bastard corporate constructs, erecting from the ground; defying both their own purpose and the natural order of things.

  The neon lights— the desperate pleas of the mundane, eternal darkness. John falls to his knees, and reality really starts to set in.

  His bloodshot eyes wander desperately across the desolate horizon, unsure of how to think. What to think. How to feel. What it means to feel.

  His face a contorted mess, his breath skittish and his eyes stinging with tears.

  Amy stands against the darkened corner of the room, feeling every bit of what John is feeling as it is what she too felt upon learning the truth. The rain patters as Amy tries to console John from afar.

  “I know John. It's hard. But that's also why we've felt this way. This… longing for something we can never find. Or at least it's partly why.”

  John looks down to the floor in front of him, his breath stabilizing as Amy approaches and crouches next to him. “They've taken so much away.”

  She wraps her arms around him as his scarce, thin tears subside.

  “This was so hard to find. So many lies and smears and red herrings on the contentsphere. But this is why, John. Or part of why at least.”

  Thunder booms in the background, John’s numbness to it oddly missing. The thunder is unnatural too. It isn't supposed to be like this. “Are y— you really sure?” John wishes it not to be.

  “You don't need me to tell you that.” Amy replies.

  “How did it come to this?” John pleaded again for an answer.

  “I don't know.” Replies Amy, finding a reprieve in bearing the burden with her best friend. John gets up, taking Amy up with him swiftly. His voice is low, subdued, yet rageful. “We need to do something about this. More people need to witness this. To see.”

  “That's the sad part, John.” Amy replies with defeat. “Lots of people already know this. It's just become its own fantasy. That's the point of virtual reality.”

  John is quiet. The room is quiet, barring the rain and the wind. “It doesn't matter. I know some people from work. We'll figure something out.” John states, storming out the room.

  He places himself onto the couch, the artificial light of the apartment feels nauseating. And so, he shuts them off. The swallowing dark is more honest than the vomiting lights. Then, the light of the city is all that reaches the room.

  Oh, wait, that's right. They're all fake too.

  John finds the remote where Amy left it. She emerges from her room with a misplaced guilt across her face and posture. John pressed some buttons to get the Sun to reappear, and it did. But… it's just not the same. It too is fake.

  “That's what I tried when I saw it.” Amy tells him, taking a seat. John forms a few tears again as he looks upon the phantom, lost skies of the Earth. “What happens from here?” Amy asks, searching his expression as he stares into the hollow projection.

  It is almost cathartic in its own sick way, for so many lingering questions have had the answers confirmed, only to leave more unresolved in its wake. Unresolved questions that, in the grand scheme of things, bring a feeling of smallness.

  Yet he thinks of the forest crash. The fight with that beastly creature; beating it in mortal combat with nothing more than grit, cunning. He thinks about how he's felt.

  The meaninglessness, the directionlessness. It was gone in the fleeting moments after the crash, and it makes it obvious just how backwards the so-called civil world must have become. Just not quite palpable enough for him to do anything.

  “We're gonna find out who did this.” He claims, still staring into what is ultimately nothing. “We're gonna see through all their lies. The trickery. The manipulation.” He says, then looking at Amy. Her face looks tragic as he continues.

  “People can’t continue to live the way we have. Even if we are alone. Someone has to do something. The world is fake.”

  “How could it be us, John?” Amy replies rhetorically, forming tears of her own.

  “I’m sorry I showed that to you. I just couldn’t stand knowing it alone. But after the crash… I… I couldn't help myself. I needed to know, John.”

  She adds, her sorrow beginning to burst. John wraps his arms around her, holding her close, the itch in his leg going off like a needle in his brain.

  “Perhaps some things are just better left forgotten.” He says, subduing a rageful motivation to act.

  “Best to be forgotten… just for now.”