A white light burns my eyes. Am I dead? I don't have any memories of how I got here, and bright white lights, I've been told, are sure signs of being dead. My head throbs. Nope. Not dead. Being dead wouldn't come with a pounding migraine.
If I haven't died, where am I?
I try to turn my head but find that it's impossible. Something is restraining my neck and holding me in place. It feels soft, but firm, like plastic covered by some warm, spongy material. I adjust, and I become acutely aware of just how much mass is on me and exactly how little I can move. Running from both the front and back of my neck all the way to my hips, volumes of the same firm material are molded to force my back into a dramatic arch, and I'm positioned on all fours. I can feel a warm breeze on my asshole and cock. Only they are exposed. I start to panic. My hand moves for only a few inches to grasp for freedom before they're stopped by cuffs. I don't hear the signature clinking of chains. Are there cables keeping me in place? I can feel sleeves running up and down my arms and legs, with more cuffs at my elbows, biceps, and shoulders, but I can see nothing. I have no idea where I am.
I squint as my eyes adjust. The all-encompassing light has now faded to a paneled screen--whether I move my eyes side to side or up and down, the only thing I can see are the screens. Am I wearing a headset? Hell, I don't know how I got into this... this thing, but as I thrash and try to escape, I hear a gentle, robotic voice. It's high-pitched and feminine, and it's clearly simulated.
"Symptoms of stress detected. Beginning first phase of neural augmentation: mental relaxation."
*First* phase? Wait--*Augmentation*? Ice shoots through my body as my fight or flight reflex takes over. I don't like the idea of one stage of whatever this is, let alone multiple, and augmentation--the word itself looms in my mind. I try to cry out, but my voice is muffled, as if I'm hearing myself shout from another room.
What is going on? I try to rack my memories. Today I took a walk, I think? Or had I been inside playing video games? As I sail the backwaters of my mind, a soft humming, overlaid with a distant screech, fills my ears. The screen in front of my eyes changes, and flashing lights and patterns becomes the entirety of my vision. Even when I try to hold my eyelids tight, the imprint of the light reaches through the thin layer of skin and burns into my retinas. This whole time, I've been shaking and fighting against my restraints, but my body becomes weak. I scream at my limbs to continue, but they only comply lazily and without vigor, as if I'm running in a dream.
As my body relaxes and the tension is released from my muscles, the restraints become tighter, pushing at me and securing me so firmly that I don't think I could move my torso one centimeter, even if I had the strength.
Words flash on the screen. It's so quick, that if it wasn't covering every corner of my vision, I might have missed it: "NO NAME." The noises that are rolling through my brain change a bit as the words appeared.
No name? I wonder if it has something to do with the machine, or if it's asking me for my name. it might be like an empty save file, I figure. I try to respond, telling it my name, but where I hold my name in my mind... I find nothing. I cannot remember my name. I try to imagine writing my signature, filling out government forms, or even telling a barista what name to write and inevitably misspell. However, it's to no avail. Each situation has a gulf between me and the mysterious word that designates who I am. There's only a void, cut from my brain with surgical precision. Now my mind starts to race, and I try to call out again, hoping saying random words will lead to my name spilling out of my lips. I only feel a shallow groan escape.
Another word appears momentarily between the patterns: "JOY." The noises change again.
With a violent thunder, dopamine cascades over my body, and although I can't move, I know I'd now be shaking with pleasure if I could. What is this? Even more than terror, I feel *good*. The patterns start to take shape, but I can't capture what they are. The feeling fades quickly, but my mind is calmer because of it. I wait for a moment, and I realize my panic has stopped.
