At 24, Joshua Reyes—Ray to his friends—needed this. A weekend free from code, deadlines, and the weight of expectations. He climbed out, his 6'1" frame stretching like a cat after a nap, and took a deep breath of the sharp, piney air. It hit different—no city smog choking his lungs. Already, he could feel the knots in his shoulders starting to loosen, like the forest was whispering, Chill, dude, I got you.
He popped the back of his SUV, grinning at the stash he'd packed for a few days out here:
- A small cooler
-
Instant noodles for lazy nights -
Energy bars -
Tucked in a Tupperware like treasure, his mom's adobo
He cracked open the Tupperware, and the garlicky, soy-rich smell hit him hard, flooding him with memories of Manila. "Don't forget to eat, anak," she'd said, practically shoving it at him before he left. Ray's warm brown skin flushed with a smirk—175 pounds, he wasn't exactly starving, but that didn't stop her. That adobo wasn't just food; it was home, a little piece of his Filipino soul wrapped up in foil.
Then came the tech—because, yeah, Ray couldn't totally unplug. He hauled out a portable table and plopped his laptop down, its shiny black shell looking out of place against the rugged vibe. Back at his video game gig, that thing was his lifeline, loaded with the AI system he'd been wrestling for their next big drop. Supposed to be groundbreaking—characters that felt real, gameplay that flowed—but the bugs? Oh, they were piling up, and everyone kept staring at him like, Fix it, Ray. He raked a hand through his jet-black hair, short sides messy from the drive, and caught himself thinking, Just one tweak… Nope. He shook it off. "This ain't about code," he muttered under his breath. This was escape time.
Strapped to the Cruiser were his solar panels and battery bank, catching the last glints of daylight. Ray unfolded them like an old pro, angling them just right, and hooked up the battery with a solid click. They were a recent splurge, funded by his $150,000-a-year gig as an AI programmer—a solid, middle-range paycheck for a 24-year-old in San Francisco's tech scene, where high salaries are common but the cost of living keeps pace. But that paycheck came with baggage:
- Deadlines that wouldn't quit
-
A leadership gig he never signed up for -
A brain that wouldn't shut off
The solar setup wasn't just practical—it'd juice his laptop, maybe even let him kick back with Cowboy Bebop under the stars if he caved. Spike Spiegel would get it: resourceful, sure, but still human.
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Ray stretched, his lean frame throwing a lanky shadow across the dirt. His faded Cowboy Bebop tee clung to him—Spike glaring out like he was judging the wilderness—and his cargo pants fit snug without trying too hard. His smartwatch buzzed, nagging him to drink water, but he brushed it off and grabbed a bottle from his beat-up backpack instead. Sipping slow, his dark brown eyes flicked to the laptop again. Two years at the company, from intern to the guy steering the AI ship. The pressure had snuck up on him:
- Late nights
-
Team meetings he'd rather skip -
A project that lit him up and wore him out all at once
Burnout had him by the throat, and this trip? His big reset.
He tapped his foot against the dirt, a little rhythm like he was coding to lo-fi beats, and let his mind drift. Back in the office, his AI was supposed to breathe life into the game, but it was glitching more than grooving. Maybe out here, he thought, no screens, no noise, I'll figure it out. Or at least catch a break. The tent still needed to go up—his rooftop setup on the Cruiser—but for now, he dropped onto a log, those cliffs watching over him like old guards. In his pocket, a notebook bulged with sketches for his next brainchild, some history-sci-fi mashup ripped from TimeWarp Chronicles. Out here, with the forest humming soft and the city a million miles away, maybe that spark would flicker back to life.
For protection, Ray had brought along a shotgun, a precaution for his solo camping trip in the wilderness. It was stowed securely in the Cruiser, loaded and ready if needed. He wasn't exactly expecting trouble, but out here, it paid to be prepared.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple, Ray set up his rooftop tent on the Land Cruiser. The forest grew quiet, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. He climbed into the tent, zipping it shut, and settled in for the night. The shotgun rested nearby, within reach—just in case. Exhaustion from the drive and the weight of his burnout pulled him under, and soon, he was fast asleep, the familiar scent of pine and earth lulling him into dreams.
But as he slept, something strange began to happen. The air inside the tent grew cooler, carrying an odd, sweet scent that didn't belong in the California woods. Whispers floated on the wind, soft at first, then louder—words in a language he couldn't understand. Ray mumbled in his sleep, turning over, but the whispers persisted, growing more insistent. A faint light seeped through the tent fabric, pulsing softly. He stirred, half-awake, but exhaustion pulled him back under.
Then, a loud roar shook the ground beneath him, jolting him awake. His eyes snapped open, heart pounding, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tent. But something was wrong. The air smelled different—earthy but tinged with an unfamiliar sweetness. The sounds outside were off, like the forest itself was alive in a way he'd never experienced.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, thinking he must still be dreaming. But the roar echoed again, closer this time, and he knew this was no dream. He scrambled to unzip the tent and peered out from atop his Land Cruiser. The vehicle was still there, parked in a small clearing, but the landscape around it had changed. Towering trees surrounded him, their leaves pulsing with a soft, ethereal light. The cliffs in the distance were rugged, and the vegetation denser, almost otherworldly.
Ray's breath caught as he glanced up at the sky. The sun was rising, casting a warm glow over the land, but alongside it, two moons hung in the sky, each about half the size of Earth's moon, their pale light adding an eerie contrast to the morning light. That was impossible. Earth only had one moon. Unless… he wasn't on Earth anymore.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Somehow, he'd been transported to another world. But how? He remembered going to sleep in his tent on top of his Land Cruiser, and now he was here, still atop it, but in a completely different place. Did he pass through some kind of portal in his sleep? Or was it something else? He didn't have time to ponder. The roar sounded again, and this time, he could hear heavy footsteps approaching. Whatever it was, it was big, and it was coming his way.