As Kopius returned to his normal level of disgruntledness his gaze fixed upon the light source and the small exit in the high ceiling of the cave.

"Twenty-one days," he said aloud, moving his mind to matters at present.

Twenty-one days was the amount of time he could lay dormant within his O.B.E.S. chamber before things started to turn sour. His VR rig was modest to say the least, it could only run a short duration until it needed to be refilled with the necessary liquified nutrients and vitamins required to sustain long term activity in the VR realms. That and early onset atrophy.

His rig had none of the bells and whistles that came with the newer, updated models. No alarms, no warning system; passing the twenty-one day mark was dangerous and in most cases fatal. There were finer details, it wasn't as simple as dying after that mark was reached, but it was well documented that the likelihood of death rose exponentially from that point on.

Twenty days to be safe, he corrected himself.

"That's what we got," he said, speaking to the light.

He stood, wiping off residual rock debris from his butt and headed back to the base of the wooden cave ladder. Though the first plank seemed more than capable of supporting his weight Kopius was not as convinced about several others that he could see. One of the planks in question was at roughly the height of his outstretched hands and he opted to try a pull-up.

He placed a handhold just above where the wood was nailed to the cave wall. After a preliminary tug, Kopius pulled his body off the floor with the grace of a practiced puller-upperer. Letting himself down, he marveled at the strength and ease of doing a single pull-up.

When had Cory played baseball, pull ups were an everyday exercise. Though he was slender, he was fit and athletic. The larger players would tease him about his size but would pay their respects after he would excel in everything else besides brute strength.

Performing pull-ups was the first time he understood that strength by itself was not power; the application of strength was the true measure. Pull ups are meant to be paced and consistent, with an established rhythm to maximize longevity. The muscle heads, in general, did not understand this. They would approach the challenge with the pace and vigor of a boy running from their own virginity. While Cory would take the measured approach, his larger challengers would look like they were trying to dry-hump the air in some awkward gyrating conniption fit.

The smallest of smiles creeped across the face of Kopius as realized it had been a long time since had done a pull-up. Most VR simulations did their best to emulate and deliver on all the human senses, physiques and emotions. Some were so real that real life felt surreal. Yet with all of these, there are limitations, exceptions and guidelines.

One of the guidelines Kopius was just remembering was that self-harm, like cutting, was not emulated. Much like suicide or any array of lewd or otherwise illegal happenings, there were activities that could not transpire. These were, among many others, safety protocols in place to avoid and/or discourage despicable behavior or self-harm.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

An old friend of Cory's had once been a cutter in real life. When the friend tried it in a VR realm, instead of alerting the security protocols around such behavior, he was given a secret quest. It turned out to be a self-help algorithm, that took individual users on customized journeys, through specific trials, so that they could learn to love themselves. Given the right set of circumstances, many people healed.

Coming back to the present—again—and giving the plank a second try, this time placing both hands next to each other in the center of the board, Kopius pulled.

CRACK!!

His feet didn't even leave the ground before the board snapped in two, leaving the separated pieces hanging on their respective spikes. Mentally congratulating himself for being safe rather than sorry, he stepped back to give his path up yet another look. He stared at the two broken pieces of plank that hung lazily from their respective nails.

Nails that remained in place, Kopius noted. Reaching up as if to give the board a backhand, he wedged his fingers between the wood and the cave wall until he could touch the metal spike. He tried to give it a pull but only the wood bent. He tried using the board as prying leverage but to no avail. This nail and by extension, he hoped, all the nails were firmly in place.

"I guess that can be Plan B." Kopius muttered.

Hoping Plan A would present itself shortly, Kopius considered alternatives. He had just jumped pretty far earlier, easily further then he could have in real life. Even in his prime, that jump would not have been possible.

Maybe I have some passive traits? he wondered.

...or an advanced jumping Skill? ...Could be a race specific thing… Magic?

He scrunched his nose at this last thought.

"I'm pretty sure I have Air magic." Kopius said this while remembering that the little spinning symbol with the wavy lines was Air magic. He got a bit of goosebumps when his logic jumped a bit too far as he wondered if he may be able to fly.

"Let's test that shit out."

Paying his respects to the late and great K. Reaves, Kopius summoned his inner Neo and leaped. He did not, in fact, fly. He did land awkward though, stumbling to one side before catching his momentum against the cave wall.

His jump was higher than expected but the flying would have to wait. Happy with the knowledge that if he were to come across a basketball game, he could most definitely dunk.

No more "just play D" for me! Kopius asserted to himself.

A grumble in his stomach rid Kopius of any further daydreams; the new sensation catching him off guard. It had felt like real hunger, like, you worked two shifts and that Coke with a Snickers bar you had for lunch just won't cut it rumbling. The kind that feels like an earthquake and sounds like a sea lion in heat.

He was amazed at the realism of the game he was stuck in for the umpteenth time. The problem was that the realism he was looking for came in the form of a functioning user interface with a Logout button. Mentally pulling up his interface, for the umpteenth-and-oneth time, he was not surprised by its blankness; with the exception of the misspelled name, that is.

"Everything seems to be working fine except you!" Kopius scolded the blank page before willing it to go away. Seeing no other options, Kopius gave in and opted to execute Plan B.

Occam seemed to have the edge in this one.

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