Welcome to the Beta!

The year is 2040; technology has reached the point where a computer processor is as fast as the human brain. To celebrate this milestone the gaming industry has developed an interface that can put a player into a virtual world, known as the Chair. The Chair is actually a pod of nanotech infused water that the user is submerged in. Once inside the user is put into a coma and the interface will connect the user to the virtual world, while at the same time, fusing with their system, providing nutrients, filtering waste, and stimulating muscles electrically to prevent atrophy.

It’s expensive and not designed for home use, but the prospect of thousands of “Game Houses” popping up all over the world is very lucrative.

As with any game, the manufacturers must go through a beta phase before it can be released to the general population. The new system had to be tested to see how the strain would affect the brain and the body.

While millions of gamers pleaded for the opportunity to participate, it was deemed too risky by most governments. A compromise was reached where death row inmates, who had been in jail before the beta was announced, would be allowed to volunteer. In exchange, if they survived, they would have their death sentences converted to life sentences.

The first wave claimed seventy-seven percent of the user’s lives. There was a problem with dying in the game. Similar to how when you die in your dream, your body shuts down, the user’s bodies believed that when they died in one of the games, they had died in real life.

The chair was called a new form of execution. Thousands picketed the facilities, but there were just as many who screamed for a second chance. With generations of gamers in jail, there was no shortage of able volunteers.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The second phase of beta testing started, with barely a patch in place. A user’s death was exaggerated, prolonged just a few extra seconds. The developers hoped that this would allow them enough time to have a resurrect feature, but the human minds didn’t accept the save. It was a partial success, so far only forty-two percent perished during that phase. The masses went crazy. Some rejoiced about how real it was and others appalled at the willingness of gamers to inflict personal pain.

The developers promised that they had it figured out. They were working on a patch that the human brain would accept. The third round of beta testing is supposed to happen in a month.

This is where I come in.

My name is Katherine Bates. I live in downtown Memphis with my little brother, Billy. Our parents died when I was 18, forcing me to skip college to take care of my twelve year old brother. It’s been two years and the bad tips and extra shifts I get from waitressing are barely paying the bills. I had barely gamed before, but with the extra responsibility, I hadn’t touched a video game in that time. I shouldn’t know anything about the Chair. Except I have to.

My brother and his friends broke into what was supposed to be an empty testing facility just a few blocks from our apartment. While they were goofing around, Billy fell into one of the empty containers. Once a pilot was inside, the Chair kicked on.

This wouldn’t be so bad, except the third wave of testing had started earlier than what the public was being told. Because of security concerns, during the beta an individual chair can’t be turned off. The Chair holds its user until the end of the beta in a month.

In exchange for agreeing to keep quiet about the early testing, the developers are letting me enter the Game. All I have to do is find my brother and protect him for one month.

Did I mention I’m not a gamer?