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Arthur chuckled, heart hammering. "Cheap parlor tricks," he muttered. But then, he heard it: the distinct click of his front door latch sliding open.

He didn't say a word. He took the key, stepped over the threshold, and pulled the door shut behind him. Join now!

Arthur looked back at his beige apartment—the half-eaten sandwich, the stack of bills, the quiet safety of a life half-lived. Then he looked at the obsidian woods and the key glinting on the tray. Arthur chuckled, heart hammering

He crept into the hallway. Standing in his entryway was a man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, holding a silver tray with a single, physical key and a blindfold. He didn't say a word

Arthur, whose life currently consisted of lukewarm coffee and spreadsheets, hovered his mouse over the button. It was an ad for The Labyrinth , a "hyper-realistic, life-altering experience." Most people thought it was a game. Some thought it was a cult. Arthur just wanted to feel something other than boredom. He clicked.