"Oh, you don't know what Karlson is?" he muttered to the empty room. "It's just a little game I'm working on..." He stepped into the light, ready to do it all again.

A squad of Bean-bots—stumpy, white guards with glowing red visors—clattered into the room, raising their rifles. Karlson didn't panic. He hit the ground rolling, snatched a pistol from a fallen bot, and entered a state of "Flow." Everything turned a hazy blue. He kicked a table into a bot's face, backflipped over a stream of bullets, and unleashed a volley of shots that sent the Beans flying like ragdolls.

Karlson didn't walk; he flowed. With a sudden burst of momentum, he slid across the floor, the friction-less tile turning him into a human projectile. He hit a jump pad, soaring into the air, and felt time slow down. In mid-air, he grabbed a grapple gun from a nearby pedestal. With a thwip , the cable anchored to a ceiling beam, and he swung across a bottomless pit, a blue-and-white blur of pure kinetic energy. But the lab wasn't empty.

"Movement is key, Karlson," a disembodied, slightly mocking voice echoed through the intercom.

He didn’t know who he was or why his movements felt like they were governed by the laws of a physics engine on overdrive, but he knew that the glowing carton at the end of the hall was his destiny.

Finally, he reached the Inner Sanctum. There it was, sitting on a pedestal of pure light: the 2% Reduced Fat Milk.