He tried to stand. His legs moved, but the sensation was wrong—less like muscles and more like keyframes in an animation. He walked to his bathroom mirror. His reflection was no longer a reflection. It was a character model. His face had the subtle, plastic sheen of a high-res texture. His eyes didn't dilate. His pores didn't move.

A cold, surgical pinch between his eyes. He touched his skin. No blood. But his vision flickered, and for a split second, he saw code: his own heartbeat rendered as a while(true) loop, his breath as a float variable decaying to zero.

Then they pressed 'New Game.'