It was a video game level, a dungeon. I entered and saw a pair of dark, hooded figures, rocking toward me. I stepped toward the first and struck its hazy shape while it kept rushing me. As it fell I was already moving onward.

My next memories are blurred, madly streaked with fleshy thuds and maiming. The creatures attacked me lethally, unyieldingly, but I was stronger, the hero in the game. I felled one after the other, moved through the dungeon quickly, beast to beast, like I was collecting easter eggs.

Next I rushed into a larger chamber, pursued but knowing I wouldn’t be followed. Suddenly I felt the wind that had been at my back stop blowing. Now I could only wait.

That’s when the monster appeared, the real one, the boss. I froze in the doorway, unable to turn back, and already the thing was upon me. I was going down.

And then I reached for the pause button, and was almost surprised not to find one. But this was live action, and all I could hope was that Player B would meet his fate sooner than me.