The coaster banked hard, and the "film" shifted. He saw himself five minutes from now, screaming, tearing at the headset, but his hands were passing through the plastic like ghost-matter.

When the extraction finished, there was no installer—just a single executable named TheOmegaLoop.exe .

As the car crested the drop, the physics shifted. It didn't feel like a game. The G-force pressed into his chest with terrifying realism. He plummeted through the fog, the track twisting into impossible, non-Euclidean shapes. Loops that turned inside out; corkscrews that seemed to lengthen as he moved through them. Then, he remembered the warning: Don’t look at the track.

He looked down. The supports weren't steel or wood; they looked like obsidian bones, stretching infinitely into a white fog.