Signal’s Bane

My gaming setup was a shrine to low-latency connections. I was a firm believer in reinvesting profits back into the business—for me, the business was reducing the time it took for a string of events to be transmitted across vast distances.

I sat in my chair, looking at 120Hz 8k screens. My eyes would perceive, then send a signal to my brain, which sent a signal to my hands, which tapped and clicked away at the keyboard and mouse, which sent a signal to the computer, which sent a signal to the software, which sent a signal to the game engine, which sent a signal to the game servers (probably in Pennsylvania, of all places), which sent a signal back to everyone’s computers. With so many places that a signal had to travel, it was important to minimize any interference and lag: the fast the signal, the better my game went.

I took a swig of Mountain Dew, wiped my hand on my sweats, and leaned a little bit forward. Someone was coming into range. I clicked; signals raced and a virtual bullet flew into a virtual chest. Strangely, I felt it in my chest.

A sharp pain raced down my left arm, and someone seemed to squeezing my ribs from inside. I started to sweat, and my hands became clammy. I stumbled out of my chair and the cheers from my teammates died out suddenly as my headphones were yanked off of my head. I crashed backwards, breathing heavily. It was hard to breath, and then I couldn’t breath at all.