text: I sit quietly in my chair, headphones on as another mindless meeting drones on, my eyes are on the screen, but my mind is not focused. Days like these make me question what I’m doing with my life. My headphones are on, but the words coming through have no meaning. My mind drifts, as it often does, to the various items around my small apartment. Day’s like today, I retreat to a younger version of myself. I stand up and walk away from my computer. Despite being right at my ears, the meeting might as well be miles away. I walk over to my sofa, and examine the small vacuum cleaner still sitting out from the last time I cleaned. Carefully I unsnap the extended arm, and place the vacuum itself back onto the sofa. It’s only a few feet long, but it’s lightweight and balanced, easy to spin around. I look over and notice one of the foam dart guns sitting upon my bookshelf, a monument to simpler times, of great battles and lost darts scattered across friends' basements. With the vacuum arm in one hand, and the dart gun in the other, I hold them up and close my eyes. &#x200B; I open my eyes and examine my surroundings. I am on a small freighter ship, delivering valuable goods across the andromeda galaxy. Alarms are blaring as pirates have attacked my ship and are about to board. I examine my equipment, press the small button at the base of my shield baton, with a whirr it powers up, a transparent grid of hexagons materialized forming a clear shield, a soft blue glow emanates from its exteriors. On my other hand is my trusty blaster, a M-23 plasma cartridge revolver. I press the button to release the drum, and with a stylish spin, the weapon rotates around my finger, the barrel now facing up towards me, with a quick glance, I confirm each of the 9 slots are ready and loaded. I spin the weapon back, and flick it to the side, allowing the cylinder to slide back into place with a satisfying click. &#x200B; Quickly I move to the cargo control panel, and ensure the cargo is locked down and secure. The loudspeaker echoes in my head, a reminder of the impending threat. I can hear the pirates chattering in their alien tongue on the other side of my airlock, no doubt preparing to breach my small ship in an attempt to steal my precious cargo. I ready myself in front of the door, weapon drawn, shield at the ready, and wait patiently. &#x200B; The control panel begins to flash as the pirates hack the door, it flashes red, faster and faster, until it suddenly turns green, and the door rapidly slides open. I raise my shield and quickly open fire with three quick shots, each hitting one of the pirates straight in the head, as they fall quickly to the ground. Their chatter continues as I fall back, they may have numbers, but I know my own ship, and quickly hide at the end of the small corridor, weapon drawn as they move towards me. When I know they are close, I swing my shield and bash the closest pirate straight in the face, stunning him and surprising those behind him, this moment of panic gives me the opening to fire off five more shots with quick precision, all while blocking each incoming shot with my shield, the bursts of plasma absorbing into my shield and dissipating the energy harmlessly outwards. Once the smoke clears, only one pirate remains, I stand tall and face him, as we silently stare at each other, he draws his sword, and begins to march forward. I aim my weapon and fire off the last shot from my pistol, as it harmlessly bounces off his plated armor. I take a few steps back, and set my blaster down on a nearby crate. I place my other hand on my shield and press a button, with a click the shield retracts then reorients into narrow cylinders out from either end of the baton, creating a makeshift staff. I grip the staff nervously as I take my stance, watching as the pirate walks slowly towards me, step by step. My grip tightens, and I plan my first strike. &#x200B; “Mike? Are you still here?” &#x200B; In an instant, the world around me shifts again, and I am back in my small apartment, holding the arm of a vacuum cleaner in a battle stance staring in the empty room that is my office. A wave of nostalgia passes over me as I gently place the arm down, being thankful that I'm on the 12th floor of a Highrise building, and it's very unlikely anyone saw me running around like a crazy person. The adult version of me quickly has to retake control, as the imaginative child that lives inside and escapes the fantastic worlds retreats back into my subconscious. I sit back on my computer, and try my best to figure out what was going on in the meeting, before my hand approaches my mouse and clicks the unmute button on the meeting.