The screen didn't go black. Instead, his speakers let out a roar so visceral that his windowpanes rattled. The room began to smell faintly of burnt gasoline and expensive leather. On the screen, a menu appeared in flickering 8-bit font: Leo hit Enter.

The music was a relentless synth-wave pulse that synced with his heartbeat. Every time he picked up a "Turbo" icon, his entire apartment surged forward with a localized sonic boom.

Leo grabbed his controller, but it had turned into a heavy, cold steel steering wheel. He looked at his feet; his slippers were pressing down on a vibrating metal pedal. He floored it.