“Full immersion virtual reality is the way of the future.”

By 2049, technological advancement had proven those words true. What once was nothing more than a passing curiosity for those with a lot of money and processing power was an essential part of how society worked, even if it did come to pass a little different than everyone expected.

The back of my head itched. I felt a small, raised area where the CHIP—short for Cerebral Harness Interface Protocol—had been surgically upgraded a few months ago. The new model felt like a laptop plugged into a too-powerful outlet; it buzzed with electrical energy that would cause an irritating, if harmless, itch.

The CHIP revolutionized the way people interacted with computers worldwide when first introduced in 2024. Gabris, Inc., a biotechnology company, had proposed the idea at an international tech conference. “The human brain is nothing more than a computer,” the CEO said. “An incredibly powerful one unlike any system we have today. Why reinvent the wheel we can harness what’s already there?”

Since then, the potential of a biological interface had grown in leaps and bounds. Moore’s Law estimated that technology doubled in power every two years, but the CHIP had reduced that time to a matter of months.

Now we only needed to close our eyes and focus on cat videos, and we could mentally select what type of kitten danced across our subconscious pianos.

I joke, but the CHIP eliminated the need for widespread external interfaces. Smart phones fell by the wayside. Gaming became something else entirely, opening the door to experiences unlike any the human race had ever seen before.

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MMOs surged in popularity, quickly becoming the most-played genre of game on the market. Hundreds maintained active servers, while more archaic types of games still operated on private servers with first-person mods.

A soft ping alerted me to a text message. I closed my eyes and shifted my focus to the mental “subfolder” for text messages. The CHIP processed the message instantly.

“Kai, check out the forums. There’s all this chatter about a new MMO from some company called Eos.” Ethan, my best friend of many years. One of the few people I know that would download a file without thinking, especially when that file would be stored quite literally in his own brain. He included a link.

I sent back a response. “Dude, I am not downloading a game file from some obscure Russian website to my CHIP. Not a chance.”

Even so, I was curious. An empty display hung on the wall. A quick glance filled it with forum posts. The screen scrolled automatically as the CHIP tracked my eye movement across the display.

Ethan was right. The game was all anyone could talk about.

I saw the file: POv1.exe.

Not the most trustworthy filename I’d ever seen, but other users had downloaded it without a problem. Whatever the game was, the few leaked resources focused on its immersion. Apparently the game took realism to a completely different level.

Ethan sent another message. “Totally safe. I downloaded it. About to log in.”

Ethan was a bit too trusting, but I trusted my best friend. And a new, fresh-on-the-market MMO was bound to give early access loot.

I selected the file for download. One of the benefits of being born after 2030 was the internet speeds.

Lag was a thing of the past.

I “saw” the file name—the CHIP displayed images like a memory, as if you had just seen it and looked away—and chose it.

The slight electrical nag in the back of my head crackled briefly, and the world around me went black.