Hesitating, I stood over the tablet. 

I finally picked it up. 

Tapping the black screen, it lit up, illuminating my face in the darkness. A short message appeared briefly before disappearing: "DON'T TELL PAPA."

There was only one application on the tablet. I opened the app and saw myriads of videos flooding the feed. They were of normal people, living their lives in Korea, the United States, France. My eyes widened, never having seen anything like this before.

I looked around, seeing and hearing no one; only the soft sound of crickets. Glancing at the "DANGER" sign on the wall, I noticed the rectangular outline below it. I pulled on the handle, and a dark, cold chute appeared behind the hatch.

"Thank you," I whispered, closing the hatch and running home with the tablet in hand.

I watched the tablet all day in my bed, rolling around periodically to change my position. I was captivated by videos about gymnastics, poker, and science experiments.

My hands stuffed leftover food into my cheeks, my eyes glued to the screen. I stuffed slices of pear into my mouth as I watched clips from action movies and the Winter Olympics. Before I knew it, the morning birds chirped and sunlight slowly filled my room. 

Sitting by the water spinach, I continued to be completely absorbed by the strange device. The news about Seoul played on the screen, featuring Kim Siwoo, the founder and C.E.O. of the innovative tech conglomerate, K.K.O.H.

A young news anchor announces clearly, “The controversial C.E.O. has just acquired three more start-ups in an effort to create the most sophisticated Artificial Intelli–.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the pair of rabbits trying to steal the water spinach again. I threw a rock at them, and they scampered away, frightened. My attention returned to the news clip, which showed a picture of Siwoo Kim, a slim man in his early forties with tired hair and a sunken face.

The anchor continued, "Kim Siwoo's business practices are in question with Seoul authorities, who are currently investigating..." but my interest shifted to the video app's recommended section, which showed the thumbnail of a man cutting down vines by a stream. 

I tapped on the video.

A shirtless young man creating a makeshift shelter in a jungle, using only a machete and the resources the land provided filled the screen. I clicked on another video of the same guy—this time a tutorial on how to start a fire using a knife and flint. One video led to another, and I found myself diving down the rabbit hole of men surviving in the wild.

As the sun hung low in the sky, I realized I had spent the past few hours watching survival videos. Stretching my legs, I stood up and dusted off my pants, noticing my butt print in the soft dirt. 

As I turned to go home, my eyes caught another video. It showed a young Asian girl, not much older than me, tending her garden. I watched as she built a makeshift fence around her vegetables by a river, expertly using a knife to cut branches and strip bark. I paused the video and ran into the cottage.

The sky darkened as I returned to the stream bank with some string and a lantern, setting my tools and the tablet down by the water spinach garden. 

"Sit tight," I said to the tools before taking off into the black woods.

Beneath the canopy, I leapt from tree to tree, collecting youthful, thin branches. I moved with ease, avoiding roots and rocks that could trip me.

It was pitch black when I returned. 

Using the orange glow from the lantern and the blue flashlight from the tablet to see, I stabbed the sticks into the soft dirt, trying my best to keep the spacing consistent. The orange light from the lantern illuminated my calloused hands as I unwound my string. I weaved it through the sticks. 

“Ahh…” I sigh, “Not too bad.” I step back and admire my handiwork.

Then, an eerie shiver runs down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight.

I turn slowly around and notice one of the pesky rabbits crouched by the stream. It watches me with its round, beady eyes. Out in the open. Without any cover. In the middle of the night. 

“You’re pretty brave.” I call out to it while looking at the night sky. The forest’s edge lay several meters away. There was no possible way the rabbit would make it if an owl decided to attack. 

But it still stared at me… even as I packed up my tools. It stared at me with its little nose twitching.