Estimated reading time — 15 minutes

Emma Fraser sat in the back row of the audience, trying to stay inconspicuous under her blonde wig, head scarf, and fake glasses. She was attending this live filming under an alias. In fact, she had constructed an entire cover story to go with her false identity, although in the end it was not necessary. The production company was surprisingly lax in their vetting of audience members, which was all the better for Emma’s clandestine purposes.

She watched on as the audience flooded in, their collective excitement building as they looked forward to the sick spectacle ahead. Meanwhile, the studio crew made their final preparations on stage, while the technical staff carried out last minute checks on the equipment.

And then the presenter showed his face, striding out onto the stage and soaking up the admiration and applause from his captive audience. Bill Willis was the face of the show, the respectable front to the sadistic televised display which was to follow. He was a charismatic and popular celebrity who’d enjoyed a long and illustrious career on both the big and small screens.

Willis was pushing 70 now, but clearly he’d been through extensive plastic surgery and hair restoration treatments to maintain his relatively youthful looks. His designer suit, slick silver hair and bright white teeth screamed slime ball as far as Emma was concerned, but Good Old Bill was as popular as ever and – rumour had it – he was getting paid a million dollars per episode.

Willis shook hands with several of the front row audience members, making small talk for a couple of minutes before returning backstage for the final curtain call. A representative of the production company – a stern-faced young woman with a tablet – briefed the live audience, going over the show’s format, covering the do’s and don’ts and explaining how to use the individual VR headsets which sat underneath each of their chairs.

Emma barely paid attention to this pre-amble. She’d done her research and knew how this was going to play out. She’d been preparing for this night for a long time, waiting for her opportunity to gather the evidence and expose this immoral company for what they were.
Finally, the countdown began, the cameras started rolling, and Mr Willis turned on the charm.

“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen!” he beamed, “A warm welcome to our wonderful studio audience, and to the millions of loyal viewers across this great country and across the globe! It is my pleasure to introduce the greatest game show in the world, live from Los Angeles…This is…FACE YOUR FEARS!”

On cue, the audience applauded and cheered, as the excitement levels inside of the studio rose to a near crescendo. Emma played along to maintain her cover, even though Willis was a creep who made her sick.

“You know folks, our show has been on the air for close to three years now, and it’s never been more popular. Still, like all great art, we have our critics. Some folk don’t care for what we do here, even though the fantasises our contestants experience are perfectly safe. This is a free country, and everyone’s entitled to their opinion, but let’s not forgot why our little show is so loved and why we receive hundreds of applications from prospective contestants every week.

Fear, ladies and gentlemen. Fear has been with us since the dawn of time. It’s a part of our genetic makeup, a primal instinct to avoid danger, to keep ourselves safe. But, where would humanity be today, if our ancestors have given into their fears? If they had retreated from danger and adversity and hidden away, shielding themselves from the darkness? Think of the Renaissance, American Revolution, the Moon landings… Did our first astronauts shirk from the challenge? Of course not. I put it to you, ladies and gentlemen, that human progress has always been – and will always be – dependent upon our resilience and our ability to conquer our fears, to look into the dark abyss and see the light at the end of the tunnel. That is why we do what we do, ladies and gentlemen. We allow our contestants to face their worst nightmares in a safe environment, so they can overcome and become stronger, better versions of themselves…And that, my good people, is what our show is all about…”

The audience applauded in approval, while Emma bit her tongue. She was worried for a moment, thinking they were on to her. But there had been bad press recently which the production company obviously wanted to address, which explained Willis’s carefully prepared speech.

His rather feeble argument tried to portray their programme as a noble social experiment, whereas in reality the producers were only interested in ratings and selling ad time, while their ‘willing contestants’ were in fact exploited individuals competing for a cash prize. Still, the weak justification given by Willis was enough to assuage the guilt of the viewing public, allowing them to enjoy the psychological torture of the show’s contestants without having to take responsibility – a case of having their cake and eating it, so to speak.

“And now ladies and gentlemen,” Willis continued, “without further ado, let me introduce tonight’s first contestant! She’s 37 years old and hails from the great city of Chicago, Illinois…Let’s give a big warm Face Your Fears welcome to Ms Ursula Anderson!”

The audience applauded enthusiastically as a well-dressed and attractive woman confidently walked onto the stage, waving to her adoring fans and giving no indication of the intense anxiety she must be experiencing. Ursula wore an expensive business suit and high heels. Her hair, nails and make up were all immaculate. Indeed, Ms Anderson projected confidence, her appearance that of a successful and independent businesswoman. Emma knew the truth however.

Willis continued his charm offensive, embracing his contestant and inviting her to take a seat before launching into a series of pre-prepared questions – Where did you grow up? What do you do for a living? What are your hobbies? Likes and dislikes? What would you spend your winnings on?

Emma barely paid attention to the answers. She’d done her research and knew enough about Ms Anderson and her situation. What the woman neglected to tell Willis was how she was a down-on-her-luck lawyer struggling to find work, or how she had been through a messy and expensive divorce which had left her emotionally devastated and near bankrupt. Despite her expensive clothes and designer heels Ursula Anderson was heavily in debt, and the bank was about to foreclose on her house. Like most of the contestants on this show, Ursula was desperate for money, and the 250K prize would go a long way to paying off her debts.

Emma only tuned back into the conversation when Willis started talking about the terrible events to come.

“Well, Ursula. Like all of our contestants you have been thoroughly prepped in advance of tonight’s proceedings. You have spoken at length with our team of psychoanalysts and have been through a full medical check. Our experts have monitored your dreams and developed a programme which will simulate your worst nightmare. I emphasise again that this is a simulation – it is not real. The VR immersion experience is about as close as you can come to a living dream…hell, it’s more realistic than any dream, because you can see, smell, touch, and taste it. Nevertheless, the experience is a virtual one, and you will come to no physical harm.”

“Now Ursula,” Willis continued in a soothing tone, “as you know, the experience will be quite harrowing. Even at this late stage you can still withdraw from the process. No one will think any less of you, believe me. Well, Missy – what do you say?”

Ursula paused only momentarily before answering in a croaky voice. “I’ll do it.”

“She’ll do it!” Willis exclaimed, whilst turning to the audience, “How about that folks! Let’s hear it for this brave young woman!”

The crowd applauded and cheered. Emma played along. She wasn’t surprised that Ursula was going through with it. They never backed out this late on – not when they were on live television. How would you ever live it down?

With the pre-amble finished, Ursula was walked over to the VR machine, where she was hooked into the sensory stimulators by the technicians, the headset was placed over her eyes. Sitting on the left-hand side of the device was the so-called ‘fear detector’ which monitored the contestant’s pulse rate, adrenalin levels, rate of breathing, blood pressure, and perspiration.

Each contestant had their own tolerance level, a maximum level of terror which they could suffer through, calculated by a computer programme which terminated the simulation when they hit their upper limit. The longer the contestant lasted, the better their chances of winning the cash prize. This was the game – psychological torture for monetary gain, not to mention the sadistic enjoyment of the viewing public.

Soon, Ursula was fully plugged in. Willis made a short and unmemorable last-minute speech while Emma and her fellow audience members put on their VR headsets. They would observe the nightmare from the first-hand perspective but could remove their headsets at any time, while Ursula would have to see it through to the end. Next, they started the final countdown, which was crudely displayed on a digital clock set above the stage – 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…And we’re LIVE!

Suddenly, Emma was immersed in total darkness. For a moment she thought the machine had malfunctioned, but then she realised this was the nightmare…Ursula’s nightmare. A fear of the dark? No, there had to be more to it.

Emma, the studio audience and the millions of viewers world-wide could see the darkness through Ursula’s eyes, but they could not control or influence her movements or actions. How the young woman reacted to the situation was in her own hands. She didn’t panic, not at first – not until she tried to sit up and hit her head against something solid. Her fear levels rose, as she stretched out her arms, striking solid wood on every side. It was then Emma realised what was happening here. The terrifying truth must have dawned on Ursula too, because she started to panic, and her fear levels rose. The audience gasped as they became engrossed in the horrific drama.

The tortured woman searched her person with shaking hands, soon finding a cell phone which had conveniently been placed in one of her pockets by the VR programmers. Turning on the device, Ursula soon discovered the battery was low and she had no signal, but the torch function on the phone was still working, allowing her to view her surroundings. Ursula was trapped in an enclosed space, sealed inside what was clearly a coffin. Inevitably, the poor woman was trapped inside of her worst nightmare – she was buried alive.

Emma had taken a psychology class in college before deciding to major in journalism, and so she knew something about the meaning behind dreams. Being buried alive was a standard phobia; a terrifying scenario of being trapped with no hope of escape or rescue, the air slowly running out. Claustrophobia was a true fear and, while being buried alive was not a rational scenario, at least not in the modern era, there was surely a deeper meaning to this nightmare. The fear of confinement, of being trapped and unable to break free…and perhaps worst of all, of being abandoned and left for dead by those you love.

The nightmare continued and soon Ursula became frantic, overcome by sheer terror and utter desperation. She began manically scratching at the lid of the coffin with her fingernails, screaming as she tried in vain to dig her way out. Meanwhile, the audience shrieked in sadistic delight, revelling in the horror and fear while knowing they themselves were in no danger.

Ursula continued to scratch and claw until her fingertips were bloody. Her physical body was unharmed, but the full immersion technology made her feel the pain through the neural sensors stimulating her nerve ends. Emma was disgusted as she watched on. She wanted so badly to intervene and help this poor woman, to end her nightmare, but she could not, as her cover had to be maintained.

Finally, the torture came to an abrupt end, as the AI monitoring Ursula’s physical condition calculated that she had reached her upper limit. A siren blared and the simulation ended, as a team of technicians strode out onto the stage, quickly and efficiently disconnecting the devices and freeing Ursula from the nightmare-inducing machine.

Willis feigned concern, walking over to the terror-stricken woman and guiding her to a waiting armchair, handing her a glass of water to drink as they struggled through the post-experience interview. Poor Ursula could hardly speak. Her physical appearance was in stark contrast to how she had looked only moments ago. Gone was the confident, well-groomed professional woman, instead replaced by a scared girl – her face pale white and her body shaking. She looked as if she was going to be physically sick. This was what they did to people – publicly humiliating them, before sitting them down and making them relive it. Ursula’s image would be online forever now. She would always be remembered as the woman who tried to claw her way out of a coffin on live TV.

But the greatest disappointment was still to come. Willis revealed her final time – just 2 minutes and 17 seconds inside of the simulation. The nightmare had been so brief, although it must have seemed like an eternity for the terrified woman. She must have realised this was very unlikely to be a winning time. The woman had been through her worst nightmare, had been humiliated in front of millions, and would have nothing to show for it, and no end to her financial problems.

“Let’s hear it for young Ms Anderson! One very brave young lady!” Willis led the applause, before Ursula was herded off the stage.

What followed was the first of several advertisement breaks – the major corporations paid big money for these premium slots. The audience chatted excitedly, reliving the terror they had just witnessed. Emma had a hard time stomaching it, and there were still two acts to come.

The next contestant was a 20-year-old Californian kid called Eric Henry. A handsome young man with strawberry blond hair, well-built and already pumped up with testosterone, striding out onto the stage and punching his fist in the air as the audience went wild. Willis greeted the kid with enthusiasm, inviting him to take a seat before the went through the standard line of questioning.

Eric was buzzing. He appeared to have no apprehension whatsoever. Once again, Emma had done her research, but there wasn’t much to say about this guy. Eric was a college kid and an adrenalin junkie. Like most of his generation, he’d grown up on VR games and simulated experiences. Here stood a thrill seeker, the type who would race motorcycles and jump out of airplanes just for the hell of it. A contestant like Eric appeared on the show every couple of weeks. They didn’t need the cash prize, but instead were in it for the ultimate thrill, not to mention the world-wide fame.

Willis quickly finished up and the crew went through the motions, as Emma and those around her put on their headsets, preparing themselves to witness the next living nightmare.

Eric found himself immersed in cold and dark water, rapidly sinking into the abyss. The viewing audience could not feel the freezing cold, but the kid could, his body shaking and shivering. He kicked his legs vigorously and ascended to the surface, frantically looking in every direction and soon discovering he was adrift in open water, with nothing but choppy waves in every direction. Eric’s adrenalin levels rose, but he did not panic – not yet. But then he saw fins in the water, circling around him and coming ever closer.

He dove back under water to get a better look, experiencing a moment of sheer terror as he spotted a trio of giant fish cutting through the murky water – huge great white sharks, perhaps 20 to 25 foot from snout to tail. The sharks circled in hunting formation, eyeing up the helpless Eric like he was a slab of meat floating in the water.

The audience shrieked in delighted terror, but the kid remained remarkably calm despite the danger. This may be his worst nightmare, but he appeared to be mentally prepared. Eric surely knew that sharks reacted to movement and so stayed as still as possible, merely treading water to keep himself afloat. Real sharks might not have bothered him, but these weren’t real animals – they were digital creations, VR simulations programmed to be unnaturally aggressive, to kill for sport rather than simply to feed.

Eric continued to tread water, periodically ducking under to see the sharks coming ever closer. His fear levels quickly began to rise. It looked like the sharks were toying with the kid – playing with their food if you will. One came in close, bumping him but not attacking. Eric thought he was okay until he saw the cut on his side. His hot blood seeped into the cold water, instantly attracting the attention of the killer fish.

The audience went wild as the feeding frenzy began, and the kid finally started to panic. The first shark came at him, its huge jaws open, exposing its rows of razor-sharp teeth.

Somehow, Eric managed to dodge the attack, waiting until the last possible second to kick free and avoid the creature’s teeth. Eric’s victory was short-lived however. The second shark hit him a moment later, nailing him before he had a chance to react. The great white bit down hard into Eric’s exposed torso, physically pulling him through the bloody water.

The kid screamed in agony. He must be in terrible pain, his body going into shock, but still his fear levels did not peek. The shark finally released him from his jaws, after having dragged him across one hundred yards of open water. Although badly wounded, for a while it looked like Eric might escape, that was until the third shark attacked him from below, biting down deep, its teeth ripping through flesh and bone. Eric screamed, looking down to see two bloody stumps where his legs had once been. Only then did his fear reach the limit, and he was awoken from his nightmare.

The crowd went wild as Eric was disconnected from the apparatus and congratulated by Willis on his impressive performance. The kid was drenched in sweat and looked somewhat worse for wear, but otherwise he was in good spirits, having achieved the ultimate thrill. Then he got his time – 3 minutes and 7 seconds, clearly marking him as the front runner. Eric left the stage to rapturous applause, once again pumping his fist in the air as he went. Another ad break followed, before the final contestant was introduced, and he was the one Emma had been waiting for.

The contestant who walked out onto the stage was different from the rest. A 45-year-old man who walked with a limp, had a visible scar on the back of his head and appeared extremely uncomfortable, not reacting to the audience and appearing to have no self-confidence whatsoever. Willis welcomed the contestant, introducing him as Taylor Lowe, a married father of three from New York City.

Willis briefly interviewed Mr Lowe, but the contestant struggled to answer even the simplest of questions, constantly glancing around the brightly lit studio with a look of confusion and anxiety on his face. Emma wasn’t surprised to see Mr Lowe in such a state. She knew Lowe’s history, and his appearance on the show was the whole reason for her undercover investigation.

Taylor Lowe was indeed a family man, married for 20 years and father to three children – aged 15, 9 and 5. He’d enjoyed a good life – a happy marriage, loving family, and a good career – up until his life had been irreversibly changed by a random, violent attack.

A year ago, Lowe had been walking to his car after working late when he was set upon by a pair of masked gang members, armed with iron bars. They’d mugged him but still proceeded to mercilessly beat their victim, leaving him bloody, unconscious, and seriously wounded. Mr Lowe had barely survived the attack and was left in a coma for two months.

He’d eventually awakened but was left with life changing injuries, including permanent brain damage which left him unable to work. His insurance payoff wasn’t nearly enough to support his family and pay his medical bills, thus his appearance on the show. Emma saw the production company’s shameful exploitation of this man and she was determined to expose them.

Lowe’s discomfort only increased as he was led to the VR machine and strapped in. He was clearly very anxious and even the sadists in the studio audience appeared uncomfortable with the proceedings. Willis did his usual routine, making jokes and seeking to ease the tension. Emma couldn’t understand why no-one was stopping this. She was glad that Lowe’s family weren’t here. His wife didn’t agree with his decision to appear on the show, although perhaps she was watching his torture at home on TV, praying that he would come through this trauma in one piece.

The simulation began, and Lowe was walking down a poorly lit, seemingly abandoned street late at night. He was searching for something – presumably his car – but was becoming increasingly anxious, jumping at sinister shadows, his eyes darting to sudden movements in the darkened alleyways. The assault was a bolt out of the blue, the attacker hitting him from behind. Lowe would have felt a sudden sharp pain, a hard blow forcing him down to his knees.

The second attacker descended upon him before he had a chance to react – a large and intimidating figure, his face masked and a hefty iron bar in his hands. He roughly grabbed hold of the defenceless Lowe, holding the weapon above his head, ready to strike.
“Give me your money asshole!” he spat, “Hand it over or I’ll smash your damn head in!”
Lowe didn’t resist, handing over his wallet with a shaking hand. He was terrified, and his fear levels was steadily rising. Emma was also becoming increasingly concerned about Mr Lowe’s welfare. She realised the seriousness of the situation. Whilst the previous contestants had experienced fictional nightmares, this poor man was reliving the worst experience of his life. Lowe was not suffering from a phobia but rather post-traumatic stress disorder. And being put through this horror for a second time could well push him over the edge.
His chief mugger quickly rifled through his wallet, extracting his cash and credit cards. Clearly, he was not happy with his loot.

“Son-of-a-bitch…Is that all you got asshole? To hell with you man…”

He struck Lowe hard across the face, making him squeal and fall to the pavement, as blood poured from his broken nose. His immense pain would have felt just like the real thing…And they kept hitting him, both muggers striking out again and again.

Emma could only watch on in shocked horror as the brutal attack was replayed in every bloody detail. She’d seen enough and so turned off and removed her headset, just in time to witness something going very wrong on stage. Lowe was still immersed in his nightmare and amazingly his fear levels had not yet peaked. By now, his face was pale white, and he was drenched in sweat. Suddenly, his body began to violently convulse as he gasped for air. Emma knew she couldn’t stay silent any longer. She cried out, demanding that the crew go to the stricken man’s aid.

Finally, the programme was terminated, but by now Mr Lowe was quite obviously in the throes of a full cardiac arrest. Willis frantically motioned for the crew to stop filming as technicians and paramedics ran onto the stage. The other audience members began removing their headsets, witnessing the true-life horror, suddenly realising this was no longer a game.

The technicians struggled to disengage Lowe from the VR apparatus. When they finally succeeded, a paramedic took over, administering CPR and trying to resuscitate him, but clearly it was already too late. The medic gave up on a lost cause, covering the dead man’s head with a blanket. Willis stood in the middle of the stage, looking totally bewildered and out of his depth. Several audience members began to cry. And Emma herself was devastated, because she knew she could have prevented this.

Eventually, some semblance of order was restored. Poor Mr Lowe’s lifeless corpse was removed from the stage and a team of security people cleared the audience, despite Emma’s very vocal objections. An hour later, the production company released a public statement through their social media sites, which Emma read on her smartphone whilst sitting in her car. Clearly the company’s PR and legal divisions had been working overtime.

The gist of the statement was so…Mr Lowe’s death was a terrible tragedy – however, the contestant had not disclosed his heart condition prior to applying to appear on the show. Furthermore, he had signed a full legal disclaimer absolving the producers of responsibility in the case of his injury or death. ‘Clearly’, the studio was not liable. Nevertheless, as an act of good faith, the company was prepared to pay a generous out-of-court settlement to Mr Lowe’s family and would also make a hefty donation to a heart disease charity.

So, there it was. The producers had all their legal ducks-in-a-row and were prepared to pay their way out of this mess. Emma imagined the show’s hardcore fans would be satisfied with this face-saving gesture, but she guessed whatever money the company paid out would be scant compensation to Mr Lowe’s grieving wife and children.

Emma knew she should have done more, but she wasn’t going to let this outrage stand. She sat in her parked car, glared at the post on her phone, and vowed to devote herself to exposing the truth. One way or another, she would get this sick and twisted show taken off the air once and for all.

Credit: Mark Lynch

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