[ WP ] A form of entertainment has been developed where people are brought to the brink of death and then teleported to medics who normally revive them . The longer you wait , the more money you earn . You have just lost everything and with no other choice you enter the games .

A bloom of color filled the screen, purple and blue morphing into orange and yellow and cascading like fireworks from point to point. The colors fizzled out, and were replaced by a flashing face. The flashing face twisted into the shape of a rabbit that hopped away, then vanished. The screen was black now, pulsing grey on an off beat that was gradually slowing, slowing, slowing... 
 
 Then the screen went red, overlaid with the words CRITICAL TIME 15:04. 
 
 `` Fifteen minutes, new record!'' The commentator called through the speakers. `` Congratulations Maisy Roarke of Rhode Island, you are now tonight's frontrunner for the grand prize, a betting pot of three *million, * that's right, three *million* dollars!'' 
 
 The thought brushed through Louis's mind that Maisy could n't hear the commentator. When a person is brought to the brink of death, they do n't tend to be in a listening mood. 
 
 It had been fifty years since the technology to see a person's internal world had been invented, and while it had been a revolutionary discovery, the world at large had quickly tired of the novelty. That is until by chance, one such device managed to record a man's final moments as he suffocated to death. The strange and beautiful images that his mind had managed to produce under the effects of oxygen deprivation, and the magical death chemical DHT, had captivated the minds of humanity in a way no art ever had. They were drawn to it. They *recognized* something in it. 
 
 And they *craved* it. 
 
 That's how the games began. 
 
 `` Our next contestant is, get this, an ex-fighter pilot! Talk about death defying, am I right folks?'' The commentator laughed to himself. `` Let's see if his visuals, and his time for that matter, are as impressive as the painter in the last round!'' 
 
 Louis scratched the tip of his nose. He breathed a sigh, then he pushed himself to his feet and approached the metal double doors in front of him. He counted the beats until he was meant to walk out. 
 
 `` Now, without further ado... Here tonight from New Mexico, it's Louis Goulding!'' 
 
 He pushed the doors open and entered the stadium. It pulsed with energy at his arrival. Raucous applause battered him from every direction, echoed and multiplied by the enormous structure around him. He looked up and spotted the six giant monitors around him. Five showed his face. One showed the time to beat. Finally, he looked down and spotted his arena: a metal table large enough for a single body, leather restraints hanging from both sides, waiting to ensnare him. 
 
 They spoke to him as they strapped him in, mostly repeating their golden rule. No money if he died. It was an edging game, not a suicide game. A breathing mask was affixed to his face and he was ready. 
 
 Then, he went under. 
 
 -- -- - 
 
 He did n't get any visions at first. 
 
 It was just... black. 
 
 Was he even dying? 
 
 Then he was plummeting through the air so fast he could n't get a breath to scream. Wind whipped past him and tore at his clothes. His training took over, and he righted himself, spreading his arms to slow his descent. His eyes scanned the wild blue yonder only to discover the wild blue yonder was all there was. Look down. Blue. Look up. Blue. There were no clouds to orient himself against. He wondered if he was even falling at all, or if he was just... 
 
 The wind stopped. 
 
 He was floating now, bobbing like a soap bubble on an unseen breeze. 
 
 `` Hee hee hee.'' A tiny voice giggled. 
 
 Louis's head whipped around, until he looked up and caught sight of a little girl in a gingham dress, staring at him as if he were a bug on the ceiling. 
 
 `` Kelly?'' Louis queried. 
 
 Kelly gave her skirt a dramatic flick and scampered off. 
 
 `` Kelly,'' he called, `` Wait!'' 
 
 He fell upwards and landed on his feet, then took off after the little girl. She led him through a twisting maze of light and color that beat against his every sense and tugged at his sanity. The color yellow started feeling a lot like the number seven. Red tasted like blood, heavy at the back of his throat. The outline of the little girl was bleeding into its surroundings and being tugged apart bit by bit until she was gone from sight. 
 
 Louis stopped. `` Kelly! Kelly, where are you?!'' He scratched at his face but felt nothing. He fell to his knees as the lights and colors hammered against his eyelids. He covered his eyes with his hands. The colors stayed. They were bleeding into him. He was bleeding into them. They were tearing him apart bit by bit, and soon he would be... 
 
 Everything went white. 
 
 Louis was standing again. He looked down. He was wearing his flight suit, oxygen mask hanging around his neck. He lifted the mask and affixed it to his face. He took a breath. He closed his eyes. 
 
 `` Daddy?'' 
 
 He opened his eyes. Across from him stood Kelly, a note of fear in her eyes. 
 
 Louis approached her and got down on a knee, rested a hand on her shoulder, and gave her what his wife always called his `` winning smile.'' 
 
 `` It's okay, Kelly. I'm not going to let you die. I'm going to win, and you're going to get your treatment.'' 
 
 She threw her arms around his neck. `` Thank you, Daddy.'' 
 
 `` You're welcome, Ke—'' 
 
 `` But it's okay. You can let go of me now.'' 
 
 Louis paused. He held out his arms and released the little girl, but she remained wrapped around his neck. He set his hands on her shoulders. `` Kelly, I let go.'' 
 
 She shook her head against his chest. 
 
 Then, she vanished. 
 
 The world snapped to black. White lightning cracked through the hollowed out world and illuminated cresting swells of an enraged ocean. Black birds gathered and swirled as a single mass. Ancient evils from the depths twisted and roiled beneath the surface of the waves. Louis's body fell into the middle of this and was tugged below by tooth, claw, and tentacle. Water raged in his ears as he was pulled deeper and deeper into the drink. The further he went, the quieter, and the blacker, the world became. And the blacker it got... the calmer Louis felt. 
 
 He thought about his daughter. 
 
 Where had she gone? Where could he find her? 
 
 The image of the little girl, twirling in her clean gingham dress, flitted through his thoughts. 
 
 He felt tears sting his eyes. 
 
 `` She's gone.'' He spoke to himself. `` She's gone... is n't she?'' 
 
 A million images of her flashed through his thoughts unbidden like a flood. Then they petered to a trickle. Then, they were gone. 
 
 He felt peaceful. 
 
 No... 
 
 No... not peaceful. 
 
 There was still something sitting beneath his collarbone, something stirring, something telling him not to give up just yet. It was hot, and red, and tasted like blood at the back of his throat. He had to stay awake. He had to keep going. He had to fight! 
 
 He twisted and thrashed against the tethers on his body keeping him beneath the surface. He fought until he felt joints pop and tendons shrill at the strain, even as the creature that held him fought back with immense strength. He got a leg free. Then another leg. Then an arm. His arm flailed about, trying to find purchase on anything at all. It lashed back and struck his own face. As it did, he felt something hard. 
 
 *The mask! * 
 
 His hand clutched his oxygen mask. He tensed his chest to breathe deeply from it, but something stopped him. Instead, with one final, mighty effort, he clutched the mask and ripped it from his face in one swift motion. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 The first thing Louis's oxygen-starved eyes were able to recognize was the blood draining from some poor unfortunate's shattered nose as he eyed Louis with a mix of fear and disgust. Next, he perceived the bleeding man's two compatriots clinging to his body in an attempt to restrain him. The leather straps hung loose on the metal table, empty of their contents. And in his hand sat the carbon monoxide mask he'd been wearing a second earlier. 
 
 The stadium was silent. Then, the muttering began. Then the clapping. Then the cheering. 
 
 The commentator called a narrative over the howling of the crowd. 
 
 `` You saw it here first, world! Here we have a man, Louis Goulding, under for *sixty seven minutes* and *fifteen seconds, * and here he is still standing and fighting like a champ! This is the most exciting day in the game's history! He's won the pot for sure!'' 
 
 Louis's handlers loosed their hold on him, and he slackened against them, mind in a haze. They ushered him through the double doors normally reserved for dying participants. He was dropped into a chair. Within seconds, he was out like a light. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 `` You were born for this, Goulding.'' The general said for the third time that night. 
 
 `` No, I was n't.'' Louis insisted. `` If anything, I was born to do exactly what I'm doing, so unless you have a donation for me I suggest you leave.'' 
 
 A month had passed since Louis Goulding's world-renowned record at the games. During the course of his attempt, the betting pot had swelled to an enormous eighty million dollars, and he'd earned it all. And, in turn, he'd donated it in its entirety to leukemia research. He'd been spreading his cause and gathering further donations ever since. 
 
 That is, until the general had begun showing up at his house with an absurd job offer. 
 
 `` You were an excellent fighter pilot and, with your unique skills, you'll be the best astronaut the world has ever known.'' 
 
 `` Good night, general.'' Louis moved to close the door in his face. 
 
 The general stuck his boot in the way. 
 
 They glared at each other through the door crack. 
 
 `` You're humanity's only hope.'' The general said. `` None of our current candidates can even stay under for the previous record breaker's time, let alone yours. In order to break the atmosphere and make it to Mars without suffocating from the cockpit pressure... it has to be you.'' 
 
 Louis searched the general's face. 
 
 The general kept talking. `` You ca n't save your daughter, Goulding. But you can save everyone who's still breathing.'' 
 
 Louis took a moment to think. 
 
 `` I was n't born for it... but I'm sure I can pick it up.'' 
 
 The general slapped him on the back and grinned. `` Let's go save the planet!''
