The Game

My name is Jackson Hurt but my friends just call me Jack. I’m sort of a genius when it comes to technology, and at age 18 I started work at a video game company as one of the head directors of technology. Shortly after I started I was told that the company was working on virtual reality gaming technology. It’s safe to assume that I lost myself working on that project.
I put so many hours of overtime! I even spent nights in my office. I worked with scientists that helped me understand the nervous system and together we figured out ways to harmlessly synchronize the electrical signals put out by the brain with the controls of a virtual avatar.
It took four years but we finally had the technology perfected.

“You ready to give your machine a test drive Jack?” asked my coworker Steven, who was operating the controls.
I strapped on a helmet that was connected by a multitude of wires to the gaming software. “Are you kidding? Let’s get this thing started!” I lay down on a bed and gave a thumbs up.
I heard Steven type on the computer and the hum of the machines as they began operation. My vision went black then suddenly I was met by a bunch of blue, swirling lights—the start menu. I felt as though I was floating in this space. I raised my right hand and a selection menu appeared. It was full of questions on what I wanted my avatar to look like. I pressed male, anthro, lizard, red scales, white hair, light armor, etc. A mirror appeared after I finished my selections and I hit okay. My vision went black again and then appeared a New York like cityscape.
“That’s a cool looking Avatar you’ve got there,” sounded Steven’s voice. He was talking through a headset that’s connected to the game.
“Thanks,” I replied, distracted. I was awestruck by the level of detail this virtual world held. If it weren’t for the fact that my reflection in the windows was of my reptilian avatar, I wouldn’t have known the difference between reality and this virtual one.
“Okay, Jack,” sounded Steven’s voice again. “We’re going to do some tests on your motor controls. Let’s start with some simple running.”
“Sounds good,” I replied.
I lunged forward, as I would in the real world, to start running but it was as if I had already been running and just initiated a long jump. I skidded to a stop and just about tripped over a curb.
I heard some chuckling and felt slightly self-conscious. “This body is way more fit than I am!”
“Should I lower your strength levels then?” asked Steven.
“No. I think I can handle it.”
This time I began with a light jog and then sped up slowly. Before I knew it, I was flying! Buildings and cars passed by me in blurs as I raced past them. I turned a corner and saw one of the tallest skyscrapers directly ahead of me. Feeling daring, I ran at it full speed and the leapt into air. I landed with a thud against the concrete building and used my claws for grip. I looked down and I must have jumped at least ten yards into the air. I started to climb.
“Having fun?” Steven asked.
I replied yes in between deep breaths then I added, “So this is what exercise feels like?” I heard laughter with that and joined in myself. I climbed over an edge of the skyscraper and rolled onto my back. I took deep, relaxed breaths. I wasn’t tired but I could feel my respiratory system working hard and my muscles were tight from exertion.
“Well it looks like all your motor controls are functioning properly. So let’s try something a little more technical. I gave you two elemental powers. Let’s try testing them.”
I stood up and nodded. We programmed menus in the game to appear at will for the players. We can view them at any time. Unlike the typical video game, the options appear in the left corner of our vision with no pause. We’re still able to see what’s going on around us and move independently.
Without the need for any physical motion, I looked at the elements tab and selected fire with my mind. I raised my right hand and it was set ablaze with swirling flames. They didn’t give me a burning sensation, rather the feeling of hovering my hand over a space heater.
I pointed the palm of my hand towards a lower building and fired. A stream of fire erupted from my palm and struck the side of the building. Streams of flame cascaded down the building and then burnt out. Scorch marks were strewn across the brick, and the metal glowed hotly.
“Use you’re imagination and be creative,” sounded Steven’s voice. “We programed the game for a near infinite number of attacks, remember?”
I ignited my right hand again and then condensed the flames into the palm of my hand. I threw it into another building and when it impacted the fireball exploded, sending chunks of debris flying everywhere.
“Cool,” I said. “I wonder what else I can do.”
I looked at the elements tab of my window and selected ice. My left hand froze in a gauntlet of ice. I touched the gauntlet against the skyscraper and ice crystals formed along the surface. Then I put some power into it and a ramp of ice formed from where I stood to the street below. I hoped on and slid back down to the ground. Excited, I tried to ignite my right hand again but all that appeared was a tiny flame that’s no bigger than what you’d find on a candle. I looked at the top left corner of my menu and saw my energy meter slowly refilling.
“Hey Jack. I think that’s enough of a test run for you today. Sign out. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”
The voice wasn’t Steven’s but instead my boss George Lewis.
Surprised, I went to my menu and hit the sign out button. My vision went black. I opened my eyes and I could see my reflection in the helmet, no longer reptilian. My face in real life is tan with little to no facial hair—a baby face really—modest features, green eyes, and bleached blond hair that’s nearly as white as my avatar’s. Finished with my observations, I take off the helmet and sit up on the bed.
George had joined Steven at the controls. “Ah, you’re awake! How was the test run?”
“It was great, operating was smooth, no glitches! We can have the technology mass produced and ready to sell here in a few months!”
“Well about that.” George scratched the back of his ear, awkwardly. “You see we’re not selling these to the public.”
I stared blankly at my boss. When what he said finally registered I had to grit my teeth to keep from yelling. “What do you mean we’re not selling these to the public?”
“Jack, let me introduce you to the man who commissioned our virtual reality project.” George motioned to a man I hadn’t noticed before, standing near the door. “Warden McMullen.”
“Warden? Like a prison warden?” I asked, walking over towards McMullen with an outstretched hand.
He shook my hand with a firm grip and said, “Yes, and please, call me James.”
“James,” chimed in George, “is the warden of the largest prison in the US. You might have heard of it. It’s called Second Chance Utopia or better known as S.C.U.”
I remembered reading about the construction of this super prison. It’s larger than most cities. Something strange that I read is that every prisoner across the country that was given life or a death sentence was relocated to the prison.
“Ah yes,” I began, snapping back to reality. “I know of the prison. The name seems odd to me though. Well, anyway, if I might ask. Why would you, a prison warden, commission us to create this technology?”
“Why indeed,” began the warden. “The answer is fairly simple. I want your technology to incarcerate my prisoners.”
My eyes widened, “Excuse me?”
“I think you heard me.”
“Yes, but I don’t understand. Incarcerate? What are you going to do? Leave them in the game for the rest of their lives?” James McMullen just grinned and I froze, stunned. “You . . . you can’t do that! That goes against human rights!”
“Human rights?” laughed the warden. “What humans? The majority of my inmates either has the death sentence or has been sentenced to life in prison! Tell me, is it not more humane to let them live a new life in a virtual utopia than to put them to death?”
My brow furrowed. “Doing what you plan would be like strapping a perfectly well person to life support, which isn’t cheap.”
“Trust me Jack. Our facilities have more than enough resources.”
I clenched my fists to keep from trembling. “I cannot stand idly by while you take four years of hard work for something so—“
“It’s not your decision Jack!” interrupted George. “We’ve already signed a contract. And anyway, it’s not as though all your hard work was for nothing. You’re going to make more money off this than you ever could have imagined!”
“I don’t care about the money George! I care that I had a part in this!” I snapped.
“Now settle down son,” urged the warden. “The deal is done. But I invite you to come to S.C.U. in a month and get a good look at how things are being run. If it will help you sleep better at night.”
I felt hesitant but accepted the offer.

Almost three weeks after my meeting, the warden had piloted this new hit TV show. I never watched it myself but, from what I’d heard about it, it wasn’t something that I would have expected to catch on. Apparently it’s all animated and the characters are all anthropomorphic—which is odd for a mainstream TV show. That strangeness aside, what really didn’t make sense to me was that it didn’t focus on set characters all the time. Apparently audiences could text their favorites, like a competition, and they would focus more on those characters. The appeal was stereotypical I suppose. Men liked it for the violence and women liked the drama. It also had a twenty-four seven channel.
I had gotten a call one day, from a friend, to hang out and watch the show for a while. I’ll admit that I thought the fights were pretty epic but there was something oddly familiar about the visuals. It could have just been my imagination but it reminded me of our virtual reality system.

When day had come to finally visit S.C.U., upon entering the facility, I was immediately escorted from the front desk to James McMullen’s office. The man holds such high authority here that I was surprised he still expected me.
“Jack! Glad you could make it!”
We shook hands and I noticed a man dressed in a black suit standing a few feet behind the warden.
The warden must have noticed my gaze and said, “Jack, this is my bodyguard, Drake.”
I took a good look at Drake. Though his suit covered the majority of his body, I could see scars on his hands, neck and one on his right eyebrow. He wore his black hair long and it was pulled back in a ponytail. His green eyes were cold and he wore this smirk on his face. But what I noticed the most was that he carried a sheathed katana in his left hand.
“Nice to meet you Drake, my name is Jack,” I introduced myself, extending my hand against my better judgment.
Drake gave a sharp-toothed-smile and said, “The pleasures all mine.” He ignored the handshake.
“Well let’s get started, shall we?” asked the warden.
I was given a quick tour of the facility. The warden rambled endlessly about things that I couldn’t have cared less about. All I wanted to see was how he was using my technology.
The warden continuously paused to estimate my level of satisfaction. When he realized that a simple tour wouldn’t appease me, he took me deeper into the facility. We entered an elevator that required fingerprint identification to activate. The elevator took us down what felt like ten levels from the ground floor. We followed a hallway that led to the containment facility. Inside was a multitude of pods that held inmates who were strapped to the virtual reality helmets I created. The sight sickened me. But the worst was yet to come.
“And from here you can see the control room.”
We entered a room with a wall made entirely of glass. From that glass wall I could see hundreds of employees sitting behind monitors that viewed different areas of the inmates’ virtual “utopia.” The large monitor at the front end of the room was what brought the whole scenario into perspective for me.
What I was watching was that TV show that had become such a big hit. Finally I understood and I was furious.
“You’re using my technology to turn prisoners into some sort of reality show?” I yelled.
“This facility needs some source of revenue,” laughed the warden, clearly oblivious to my anger.
“And your making money by taking human rights! Who gives you the right?”
The warden looked confused. “I think we discussed this last time. What humans?”
I hated his little phrase: what humans? I found myself clenching my fists, knuckles white. “Do you think the public is going to accept this when they find out?”
The warden looked at me with deadly eyes but maintained a calm tone. “Now how will the public find out?”
“I’ll tell them! I’ll go public with this! This whole operation is going under! I cannot believe I dedicated four years of work for this!” I stormed towards the door.
“I didn’t want it to have to come to this,” sighed the warden. “Drake.”
Before I could react, Drake pulled out the katana and slashed me across the left eye. I recoiled and tried to back away but he caught me and pinned me against the glass with the blade at my throat.
“Now, now. Don’t kill him, I have a better idea,” I heard the warden say.
Drake struck me with the butt of the sword and I fell unconscious.

I eventually regained enough consciousness to where I could make out voices.
“You want me to wipe his memory clean?” asked a voice that I didn’t recognize.
“Yes,” came the voice of the warden. “It’s too risky to put someone in the game that knows too much.”
“But couldn’t I just alter the memories like with the others?”
“Did you not hear me? I want him a clean slate or you’re going in with him!”

My name is Jackson Hurt but my friends just call me Jack. I’m sort of a genius when it comes to technology, and at age . . . at age seven—no eight . . . eighteen? Anyway, I started work at a . . . a, uhm, a company of some sort. I was one of the head directors of technology. We began working on . . . this project . . . what was the project?
Let me try again . . . My name is Ja . . . Jack? Jackson! I’m sort of a . . . no. I like working with . . .
My name. My na—my name is Jack . . .
My name . . .
is . . .
Jack . . .
The world went b