I woke up in a forest straight out of a fairy tale or video game, clothed and holding a small bag with a knife. 

It immediately reminded me of RPG games—this is where my adventure begins. Although I didn’t have the option to customize my character’s appearance as you usually do at the start of such games, I’ve never been good at character creation anyway, so I was satisfied with how I looked. Without a mirror nearby or any other people in sight, it seems I’m in a first-person game; looks don’t matter, it’s all about the action and quests. 

The morning was clear, but the air still damp and cool. I tried to stretch and warm up a bit. The first thing I immediately noticed was the absence of chest pain. I felt lighter, as if I’d shed some burden. I had grown so accustomed to the discomfort over time that I had forgotten what it felt like to be pain-free. 

This was the first positive sensation that slightly improved my mood, but the uncertainty, a thousand unanswered questions, and the absence of my smartphone and internet access dampened my spirits. It had only been a few minutes since I was without my personal technology, and I’d already reached for my phone to check something at least a dozen times. It was clear I was addicted.

I slipped my bare feet into my shoes, took a few steps and jumps. The shoes were quite comfortable, which I couldn’t say for the underwear. I knew then that this part of my clothing would haunt me.

I decided to set out and look around. Maybe I’d find some landmarks to help me figure out where I was. The questions of where I was and how I got here constantly plagued me. If I had close friends, I might think this was a prank, that someone had dressed me up and transported me to a forest while I was asleep after surgery, and now they were hiding in the bushes with a hidden camera, streaming my reactions like on "The Truman Show" or "Big Brother."

I’ve played several games that start an adventure this way and was quite a good player, but reality seems to be a bit different. Maybe I should pick up a stone and a stick, and voila—a hatchet with which I could chop down a tree and build a cabin? - I thought, this kind of dry humor somewhat easing my acceptance of the situation - Maybe it's just a simulation, and I'm actually in a game? I just need to find the exit button, save the state, and then I can go wild.

A few steps away from me stood a large, thick tree that looked like an ancient beech but had different leaves than beech trees - I knew this well because as a youth, we used to eat beech leaves in the spring.

I remembered that just a few months ago, during a walk in the forest, I was teaching my children which tree leaves are edible and when they taste the best. I felt a huge longing for my family. I didn’t know what was happening with them or when I would see them again, and in my current situation, I had no idea how I could get in touch with them. Previously, it was just a matter of opening an app to see the GPS locations of all family members instantly. A few clicks were all it took to send a message to the other side of the world and receive an almost immediate response. I felt somewhat crippled without my smartphone.

I tried to climb the tree, hoping to see more. After reaching the first branch within my grasp, I was certain that I didn’t possess superpowers in this game, and additionally, my physical condition was not the best. I got tired and scraped my elbows on the rough tree bark, and still had at least six meters to go to reach the higher parts. I continued from branch to branch. 

After two meters, I realized climbing any higher was pointless. This tree, despite being taller than the others, wouldn’t allow me to see anything because of the dense, light-green leaves in its upper parts. I slid back down, and upon setting my feet on the lowest branch, I jumped to the ground covered in moss. I could definitively confirm that I also lacked the abilities to fly or fall from any height without injury. When my feet hit the ground hard, I felt a slight pain in my back and a few stars started to circle before my eyes.

This was a well-known effect since I hit my thirties. Due to straining my back in my youth with attempts at backflips, jumps from great heights, snowboarding madness, and parkour, now, with every attempt at flips or jumps from greater heights, I would feel a slight numbness in both hands and see stars. I finally had to accept that I was no longer young.

After coming down from the tree, I decided to move in some direction. If I followed the sounds of cranes, maybe I would find a lake or river. The problem was that I couldn’t remember which direction the sounds came from. Looking around, the forest looked the same in all directions. There were no paths or tracks that could make navigation easier. Only the sun offered some hope. It was early morning, so I assumed the east was where the sun currently was. However, living in the north, even several hundred kilometers south of the Arctic Circle, where the sun sets for only a few hours, and the morning sun rises closer to the north and northeast than to the east, made me doubt the accuracy of my assumption. After some thought, I concluded that it wouldn't make a difference whether I went east or northeast, I just needed to start moving in one direction and keep some definite point in mind to avoid walking in circles.

I set off with a firm step towards the sun. I was filled with mixed feelings; on one hand, I was excited, after all, it was an adventure, something new, and I was curious about what I would see next.

On the other hand, negative thoughts bombarded me, too many unknowns. What bad things could happen to me in this forest, what if I got hurt, or what would I eat or drink? Is there anything here at all, or just emptiness and an endless forest?

I was also terrified by the realization of how little I knew about survival skills, how unprepared I was for such situations, and how insignificant most of what I knew and had been good at before was. No one here would ask about the projects I had participated in, what courses I had completed, and how many different certificates I had in my portfolio. Certainly, knowing the key length and number of iterations in Diffie-Hellman, HAVAL, or Tiger algorithms, or the ability to install Windows with my eyes closed, would not help me now.

I remembered how in childhood my father taught us to work, he also showed how to build a dam in the river, make a bow and arrows from hazel, a trap for weasels or martens from a box and a few strings, or whistles from a fresh piece of wood. My father worked a lot himself and didn't spend too much time with us, but I suddenly felt a huge gratitude for the time he did dedicate to us. I hope the lessons weren't in vain. I decided that when I return to my family, I will spend much more time with my children and teach them survival skills.