After all electronic devices were confiscated and non-disclosure agreements signed, multimedia
and technology billionaire Peter Kilgore stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat.

“Meet 40-year-old Nicholas Snyder of Tulsa, Oklahoma.”

On the large screen suspended over the stage, a photo of a disheveled bearded man appeared. He was sitting down in what appeared to be a forest or jungle, and while his body seemed fit, the
look on his face was one of confusion and helplessness.

“Our team found him alone on Peru’s Inca Trail, dehydrated and suffering severe effects of
altitude sickness. After bringing him here, we delved into his social media and discovered he is
single and lives by himself. His parents are deceased, he has just a few close friends, and siblings
that live in other states.

“In short, the perfect subject for today’s seminar.”

***

Nick Snyder woke up in a hospital bed with an IV of saline solution hooked to his arm. The last
thing he remembered was sitting down to rest near the town of Ollantaytambo. He hadn’t gone
very far but felt tired and dizzy. Nick figured it was either the altitude or an after-effect of the
ayahuasca ceremony he’d done in Cusco the night before. Either way, he was starting to
hallucinate and had the inescapable feeling he was being followed.

“Oh, señor, I see you are awake. Can I get you anything?”

Nick looked up to see a young nurse in the room.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital, señor. Some people found you on the trail not looking so good, so they
brought you here. How are you feeling now?”

“Actually, I’m feeling fine. In fact, I feel like going on a 50-mile hike. So, if you’d be so kind as
to discharge me, I’ll be on my way.”

The nurse gave a sympathetic smile as she prepared a syringe. “Oh no, señor, the doctor says you
must rest and rehydrate. He will be here soon to examine you, but he must travel in from the city, so it will be a few hours.”

She inserted the syringe into the IV line.

“Hey, wait, I want to…”

“Shhh, señor. Just rest and wait for the doctor. I promise we’ll have you back on the trail soon.”
He tried to protest, but the nurse was gone. And it wasn’t long before Nick Snyder returned to
the deep, restful sleep he’d just emerged from.

***

“Next slide, please.”

Peter Kilgore adjusted his glasses as a photo of Nick asleep in his hospital bed filled the screen.

“The subject recovered from dehydration quite well, but a tox screen revealed traces of
ayahuasca in his bloodstream. Of course, that meant that we had to delay the transition, because
having psychedelics affecting brain function might change behavior afterward. And we’ll need
Mr. Snyder’s thoughts, memories and emotions to be fully intact.”

Kilgore left the podium and addressed the attendees from the front of the stage.

“But this delay is a fortunate one for you, as we will be able to show the procedure via live video
feed in about twenty minutes.”

The conference room filled with excited murmurs as Kilgore returned to the podium.

The next slide appeared on the screen.

***

“Please, Mr. Snyder, get back in bed so I can examine you.”

Nick had re-emerged from his slumber in an empty room and was taking the opportunity to look through his belongings piled on a nearby chair.

The doctor’s entrance foiled that quest.

“I need my cell phone. I have to call my buddy back in the States. He’s watching my dogs for
me. I need to let him know I’m OK.”

“Cell phones are not allowed in the rooms, sir. But if you’ll give us your friend’s information, we
will let him know where you are.”

“And where are my hiking boots and hat?”

“I’m sure they’re here somewhere, sir. Now, please, if you can just come here so I can assess
your condition.”

Nick reluctantly returned to the hospital bed. “I feel fine. I just want to get back on my hike.”

The doctor looked over his glasses as he examined Nick’s ears with an otoscope. “Sir, we ran a
test when you came in and found a psychedelic in your bloodstream. I’m concerned that may be
what caused your episode.”

“That? That was just a 40th birthday thing. A little ayahuasca to kickstart the vacation. I’m fine.
Really.”

“I want to be absolutely sure before releasing you. With your permission, I’d like to do a quick
brain scan to ensure that everything is functioning normally.”

Nick could tell by the look in the doctor’s face that he wasn’t going to back down. “Fine.”

“Excellent,” he replied as he grabbed a clipboard with a long, legalese form on it. “Just sign this
and I’ll set it up. Once it’s done, I promise we’ll have you on the trail in no time.”

Nick rolled his eyes and sighed as he signed the form.

***

“Another benefit of the delay was that we were able to fully research Mr. Snyder’s history.”
Kilgore again strayed from the podium, leaning up against a display case covered with a black
cloth. The screen revealed a photo of Nick Snyder grinning broadly with the Grand Canyon in
the background.

“An avid outdoorsman, Mr. Snyder has a degree in natural sciences from Swarthmore College in
Pennsylvania. He has hiked and climbed several of the planet’s most beautiful places. The Grand
Canyon, Kilimanjaro, Mt. Whitney, the Appalachian Trail, the Kumano Kodo in Japan, the
Camino de Santiago in Spain.”

The slides switched from a scenic travelogue to a series of photos featuring Nick with other
people.

“He has dated several women over his adult life, but never longer than two years. In fact, the
longest relationship in Mr. Snyder’s life is a platonic one with a high school friend, a Mr. Davis
Shaw of Austin, Texas. Mr. Shaw was originally supposed to accompany Mr. Snyder on his
birthday trip to Peru, but in another stroke of luck, Shaw sprained an ankle in a softball game and was unable to go. Instead, he is house sitting for Mr. Fields in Tulsa.

A timid hand went up in the audience.

Kilgore was annoyed at the interruption. “Yes, you have a question?”

A young, bespectacled Korean man stood up sheepishly. “Won’t the friend wonder where Mr.
Snyder is?”

“I was getting to that. We were able to acquire Mr. Shaw’s contact information and send texts
from ‘his friend’ assuring him that he was on the trail and having the time of his life. It will still
be another two weeks before he expects Mr. Snyder to return.”

“If there are no other questions, let’s go to the live feed.”

***

Nick fidgeted as the doctor strapped his hands, feet and head onto the gurney. “Is all this really
necessary?”

“I’m afraid it is. In order to get an accurate portrait of your brain function, you need to be
completely still.”

“Seems like a lot to detect whatever ayahuasca is left in my body after - what? Two, three days?”

“Please, Mr. Snyder, trust me. As soon as we get this done, you’ll be back on the trail in no
time.”

Nick laughed nervously. “You know, people keep saying that, yet here I am.”

“Right,” the doctor chuckled. “Sorry. Now open wide. This will keep you from biting your
tongue during the scan, and these will keep your eyes from being damaged by the bright light.”

“How much is this going to hurt?”

“There’s a bit of heat and a mild shock. But I assure you it’s harmless.”

“Uh-huh.” Nick rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. The doctor placed eye shields over Nick’s
eyes and inserted the mouth guard, rendering Nick incapable of further argument.

As he was being whisked down the hallway bound, blind and essentially gagged, a nagging fear
crept into his mind. This is too much. I’m fine. Something’s not right. He swore he could hear
people talking about him in hushed tones as he passed. He struggled, but the restraints seemed to tighten against every move.

“Now, Mr. Snyder, we’re placing you in the scan now. Please remain still. It will all be over in a
moment.”

Nick detected a sinister tone in that sentence.

The machine gave off a high-pitched whine as it sprung to life, and before long the temperature
inside the machine rose to almost unbearable levels. Then, what felt like a laser beam penetrated
Nick’s skull, scrambling his mind as it seemed to be sucking the thoughts out of his brain.

Finally, an intense white light filled the machine and the room around it, forcing even those
watching the video feed to cover their eyes.

Nick tried to scream as it felt like every molecule of his body was being torn apart.

***

Audible gasps filled the WonderWorld conference room, followed by a stunned silence as the
gurney was pulled out of the scanner. Where Nick used to be, only the mouthguard, eye shields
and sheet that had covered his lower body remained.

Kilgore beamed. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr. Nicholas Snyder, the protagonist of
WonderWorld’s first TruReality© RPG game, The Wilds, available in stores by Christmas!”

He ripped the black cloth off the display case, revealing Nick’s worn brown Timberland hiking
boots and a brown and white trucker hat with “Arches National Park” printed on it, alongside a
game box with the words “The Wilds” in boldface across the top.

A woman’s voice broke the silence. “Is he… dead?”

“Certainly not!” Kilgore chortled. “Every thought and memory Mr. Snyder’s ever had, every
emotion he’s ever felt, every skill he’s ever developed is right here in this game. His body, from
the salt-and-pepper beard to the freckles on his arms to his childhood appendectomy scar are in
here, too. Of course, the authorities will find the boots and the hat somewhere along the trail and
assume the worst, but I assure you Mr. Snyder is very much alive in our world… at least until we
stop supporting the software.”

Kilgore continued. “When you play The Wilds, you’re not playing a scripted game with an
actor’s voice attached, you’re literally playing Mr. Snyder, fighting off wolves and bears and
bandits as he makes his way to the lost city of Machu Picchu."

A man in the audience shouted out. “What happens when you’re not playing the game?”

“An excellent question, my friend,” Kilgore replied. “When the game is in rest mode, Mr.
Kilgore will be able to access his memory to go to work, play with his dogs, or maybe even have
a beer with his friend Mr. Shaw. Of course, there are still some bugs, but we’ll have those
worked out by the release date.

“And this is just the beginning. Teenage skateboarders, elite members of the military, even professional athletes can one day be uploaded into our TruReality© gaming world!”

Under his breath, Kilgore muttered “Perhaps someday, even willingly.”

Behind him, the screen dissolved between the laboratory’s video feed and an ultra-high resolution depiction of Nick Snyder sleeping in a tent, the Andes spread out before him.

“Ah, the process is complete! Allow me to demonstrate. And don’t forget those ironclad nondisclosure agreements you signed to attend this NextGen Reality Gaming Seminar!”

Peter Kilgore took a controller from his assistant and pushed a button.
 

***

Nick Snyder yawned and stretched as he opened his eyes. That was one hell of a dream, he
thought to himself.

As he packed up his tent and gear, he gazed out at the morning light dancing through the jungles
of the Inca Trail. The view was spectacular. On the horizon, the suns were just beginning to rise.

Wait, the suns?

He closed his eyes and shook his head, and when he looked up again the second sun glitched and
disappeared.

That’s more like it.

Nick made a mental note: he was never doing ayahuasca again.

​

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