A small child sits down in the dirt, playing with toys outside of a plastic hovel. Inside we can see the rest of his family clad in VR Suits, running on multi-directional treadmills. Clusters of flies blob about the structure, rotten food clogging the sinks and all over the table.
A voice booms out.
“Is your family playing VR again?”
“Uh-huh,” the boy nods sadly.
“Are they letting themselves and their house go to shit because they’re stuck in some dumbass computerized server?”
The boy looks taken aback, but nods again.
“Well no more!”
A helicopter swoops over and a team of swat officers begin to rappel down. Where it should read SWAT it instead reads PRESTIGE GAMING. The boy looks scared and scrambles backwards in the dirt as the officers smash through the windows of the home and start kicking ass. The voiceover continues.
“Don’t be scared Billy. Be excited! At Prestige Gaming your parents are going to have to give a shit because it’s REAL GAMING but in REAL LIFE! Go ahead and take Dad’s wallet, Billy. He’s not going to stop you.”
The camera pans to a haggard and disheveled man, skin and bones clad now in just a yellowed pair of underwear, his VR suit having been stripped off. A foot on his chest keeps him in place and blood is coming from one nostril. “Don’t you dare Billy!” the man rasps.
The boy looks unsure as he picks his way past his mother, father, and sister, but he grabs up the wallet, yanks out a money cube, and shoves it into a slot on the family server. “Prestige Gaming!” he yells triumphantly.
There is a flash and then there they are, running through the real world, Billy a Power Ranger as the rest gaze on in awe. Dad wobbles forward unsteadily on legs unused to anything but the strange whir of the VR tread.
PRESTIGE GAMING – WHY PLAY A GAME WHEN YOU CAN LIVE ONE IN REAL LIFE!
***
The screen flickered off and the lights of the room flashed on. Businessmen and women turned as one to face the only one who stood– Jack Koff. And stand he did, very erect and glorious. Everyone watched and waited, staring at his face as he grabbed the shaft of the microphone. One bad word, one angry whisper, and they would be fucked.
Jack glanced over them all and broke into a grand smile. “Tremendous work,” he ejaculated, consummating months of hard sweaty work and late nights in the office. The business people let out a groan of relief. Then they rose and cheered, hugging and laughing as their boss gave them his trademark thumbs up. The commercial would debut at some time in the next few weeks.
Sconnie Books 
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