The cold air felt warm against my moderate-temperatured face as I walked through the room-temperatured room. It was seven o'clock, which was completely irrelevant. I saw one of my colleagues punching his computer behind me and to the left a bit, as usual. I took step after step, thinking more about where I was going instead of where I was. Then I was hit in the right side of my head by a bowling ball. I fell to the ground and watched as if I was out of my body as blood was pouring out of my broken skull like baby diarrhea.

The cold air felt warm against my moderate-temperatured face as I walked through the room-temperatured room. It was seven-o-three o'clock, which seemed irrelevant. I saw one of my colleagues punching his computer behind me and to the left a bit, as usual. I was thinking about the daydream I had just had. It was odd. It felt so real, yet so fake. I looked to my right and saw Rodriguez, that one guy who nobody likes. He was running toward me with a face so angry (and ugly) that just by looking at it my heart shriveled up into a raisin inside my chest. He had a bowling ball in his hands. I ducked. The ball went soaring past where my head just was and smashed through the wall and into the next room. I turned to face Rodriguez, and jumped from my crouching position to tackle him to the ground. I punched him in the throat, and he pulled out a giant knife and stabbed me through the neck. I watched in a detached kind of way as the knife went in one side of my neck and out the other. I coughed out blood from a body that seemed to not be mine, yet was me in some way.

The cold air felt warm against my moderate-temperatured face as I walked through the room-temperatured room. It was seven-o-eight o'clock, which I thought might have been irrelevant. I walked forward, and the familiar sound of a computer monitor being punched behind me and to the left set me off a bit. I had predictive de-ja-vu. In just a few seconds. I would need to duck. I ducked for seemingly no reason as a bowling ball soared past my head and through the wall. I turned and faced the assailant - Rodriguez - and jumped and tackled him to the ground. I punched him in the throat, then jerked my head back. A large knife whizzed past my face, so I grabbed the arms holding it, and brought it back down to Rodriguez's face, where it punctured the cheeks. I then pulled up, giving his face a new, and far wider, smile. He could finally smile from ear to ear. He pushed me away, and with tears in his eyes grabbed his face and ran away. I got up, brushed the dust off of my wrinkled, sweaty clothes, and walked away. I turned a corner to the left, and saw someone leaning against the wall, about a meter away from where the ball broke through. In his hands was a radar device that was tracking movement from the other side of the wall. The mad jumped, dropped his device, and shot me straight through my right eye. I don't know how, but I saw it all from his perspective. I watched in slow-motion as my eye was blown up, then from the back I watched the bullet exit and tear through the back of my head, bringing a trail of blood and grey matter with it.

The cold air felt warm against my moderate-temperatured face as I walked through the room-temperatured room. It was seven-forteen o'clock, which I figured was relevant. I kept on walking and it all flashed back to me. Duck, turn, tackle, punch, stab, die. I got to where I knew I should duck, and knocked on the wall. Then I ducked as the bowling ball barely missed me, smashed through the wall, and hit the man with the radar device. he had been trying to track my movement, and when I knocked on the wall, it gave away my spot at the cost of possibly his life. I tackled Rodriguez, punched him in the throat, dodged his knife, stabbed him in the cheek, got up, turned the corner, and saw that radar man knocked out on the ground, with a non-fatal but still bad injury on his forehead. Right in front of me, there was a door, seemingly shining in the already bright office. On top, it had a sign that read, "Level exit". I found that odd, but walked through anyway.

The room was dark, the only light being shone on his face from his lonely computer screen. He let out a small sob as he slouched, pressing buttons on the keyboard and moving his mouse. He was playing a game. The game about his brother. He was caught in a machine, and the only way to save him was to finish the game. It was going to be a long couple of days.