A school corridor.
A group of students gathered around someone lying on the floor.
Shouting.
Laughter.
The dull, sickening sounds of blows landing against a helpless body.
And Anand, standing among the witnesses, doing nothing.
His hands curled into fists.
He remembered the fear that had held him in place.
The bullies were powerful in the way that mattered at school. One of them was the son of a politician, a boy who seemed to believe that his father's influence placed him above every rule.
Anand had known that interfering could make him the next target.
He had been afraid of being beaten.
Afraid of becoming the subject of their cruelty.
But more than that, he had been afraid of what might happen afterward. The boy's family could make trouble for him. He could be expelled, his future damaged before it had properly begun.
So he had stood there.
He had watched.
And when the investigation began, he had remained silent.
He had not been the only witness. Several other students had been present, and none of them had dared to intervene either.
That knowledge had never comforted him.
The victim had suffered a serious injury that left him disabled.
And Anand had continued with his life.
He had gone to class, completed his assignments, and worried about examinations. He had laughed with friends and made plans for the future.
But the memory had never entirely left him.
Whenever he remembered that day, he saw himself standing there, paralyzed by fear while someone else paid the price.
He knew that he had been young.
He knew that he had been frightened.
He knew that the situation had been dangerous, and that confronting a group of violent bullies was not a simple matter.
But knowing all of that had never erased the feeling that he had failed.
He had always wondered whether he could have done something.
Whether he could have called for help sooner, found a teacher, or spoken up during the investigation.
Whether the outcome might have been different if he had been braver.
He had carried that guilt for years.
And now, standing before someone who claimed to have personally transported him into another world, Anand could not help wondering whether he deserved any of it.
"I wasn't a particularly good person," he repeated. "So why give me another chance?"
The stranger interrupted him gently.
"Anand."
He looked up.
"I think you're misunderstanding something."
"What?"
"You're assuming that I brought you here because I believe you were perfect."
Anand blinked.
The man shook his head.
"That would be a rather poor way of choosing anyone, wouldn't it?"
Anand stared at him.
"I don't understand."
"No," the stranger said mildly. "I imagine you don't."
He paused, then smiled.
"Perhaps I should introduce myself before we go any further."
Anand waited.
The man straightened slightly.
"I shall tell you what I am in terms you can understand."
He lifted one hand, as though preparing to explain something entirely ordinary.
"Think of me as a game developer."
Anand stared.
"A... what?"
"A game developer," the man repeated. "Someone who creates a world, establishes its rules, determines how its systems function, and ensures that everything proceeds more or less as intended."
Silence followed.
Anand looked at the man.
Then he looked around at the endless white expanse.
Then back at the man.
"You're telling me that you're a game developer?"
"Essentially."
"Of this world?"
"Yes."
Anand's mouth opened.
He closed it.
Opened it again.
"How does that even make sense?"
The man appeared unconcerned by his confusion.
"Imagine that you have created a game. You have designed its world, its inhabitants, and the rules by which everything operates. Over time, however, a problem emerges. Something begins interfering with the system, causing errors and threatening the integrity of the world."
Anand listened, increasingly bewildered.
The man continued.
"Now imagine that you need something capable of identifying and removing that problem. Something that can enter the system and deal with the infection."
He gestured toward Anand.
"So you acquire an antivirus from a vendor and send it into the affected environment."
There was a pause.
Anand stared at him.
The stranger smiled.
"And that, in simple terms, is what has happened to you."
For several seconds, Anand said absolutely nothing.
Then he spoke.
"Wait."
The man waited.
"Wait, wait, wait."
Anand pointed at himself.
"Are you saying I'm an antivirus?"
"That is a reasonable analogy."
"An antivirus?"
"Yes."
"The kind that removes computer viruses?"
"Precisely."
Anand lowered his hand.
He looked at the stranger with the expression of someone who had just been informed that the laws of the universe had been written by an eccentric software engineer.
"What kind of analogy is that?"
The man considered the question.
"An effective one, I would say."
"No, it really isn't!"
Anand spread his arms.
"You're telling me that I was taken from my world and dropped into another one because you needed an antivirus? What does that even mean? What am I supposed to remove? A virus? From where? Are there computer viruses in this world?"
He stopped abruptly.
Then he frowned.
"Wait. Does this world even have computers?"
The stranger looked faintly amused.
Anand's confusion deepened.
"And what do you mean by buying me from a vendor? Am I some kind of product? Who was the vendor? How did you even—"
He broke off, realizing that the questions were coming faster than he could organize them.
The stranger raised a hand.
"One question at a time, Anand."
"Then answer the first one!"
"I would be delighted to."
"Great. So—"
"Unfortunately, we have run out of time."
Anand froze.
"...What?"
The stranger glanced toward something Anand could neither see nor sense.
"Our session is nearly over."
"Our what?"
The man gave him an apologetic smile.
"I know this is a great deal to take in, but there are limits to how much time we can spend here."
Anand stepped forward.
"No, hang on. You can't just tell me that I'm an antivirus, give me some cryptic explanation about a virus infecting the world, and then decide we're out of time!"
"I understand your frustration."
"Do you? Because I have approximately a thousand questions right now!"
"And I am afraid you will have to hold on to most of them for the moment."
Anand stared at him in disbelief.
The stranger's expression softened.
"Listen carefully, Anand. There is a reason you were brought here. Your presence is not accidental, and neither is the situation in which you find yourself."
He paused.
"You have been called here for two purposes. The first was to introduce myself to you, so that you would know that your arrival in this world was not a coincidence."
Anand listened, his frustration momentarily giving way to apprehension.
"And the second?"
"To give you something."
The man smiled.
"A gift."
Anand blinked.
"A gift?"
"Yes. Something you will need to fulfill your purpose here. Something you will be able to understand and use without too much difficulty."
Anand stared at him.
"What kind of gift?"
"One that will prove useful to you."
"That doesn't answer my question!"
"No," the stranger agreed pleasantly. "It doesn't."
Anand almost groaned.
The man continued before he could protest again.
"You may not understand why you have been given this opportunity, Anand. You may not even understand what your purpose is. But in time, certain things will become clearer."
He looked directly at Anand.
"And when they do, I suspect you will understand why I chose you."
Anand swallowed.
There was something about the man's tone that made the words feel more significant than they sounded.
"You said I would be grateful for this gift," Anand said slowly.
"I did."
"How can you be so sure?"
The stranger smiled.
"Because it is something you will need."
He paused.
"And because, despite what you may believe about yourself, you are capable of more than you think."
Anand did not know what to say.
The man seemed to recognize that the conversation had reached its limit.
"That is all I can tell you for now."
"No, wait!"
Anand hurried toward him.
"You still haven't explained who you are! You haven't told me what the virus is, or why I was chosen, or what exactly I'm supposed to do!"
The stranger began to fade.
Not physically, at least not in any way Anand could understand. It was more as though the space around him were gradually swallowing his presence, erasing him from the endless white expanse.
"Wait!"
Anand's voice rose.
"Don't do this! You can't just disappear after saying all that!"
The stranger's features became indistinct.
His voice grew quieter.
"Remember, Anand..."
The words reached him as though from a great distance.
"The gift will be yours. Use it well."
"Wait! What gift? What am I supposed to—"
"Fulfill your purpose."
The voice faded further.
"That is why you are here."
Anand rushed forward, but the stranger was already disappearing into the whiteness.
"Hey!"
His voice echoed through the empty expanse.
"Come back!"
There was no response.
The endless white world began to blur.
The water beneath his feet trembled.
Anand felt a strange pressure building behind his eyes, followed by a sharp, throbbing pain in his head.
He clutched his temples.
"What is happening now?"
The whiteness dissolved.
The water vanished.
And the world went dark.