Prelude

"Mary!" Liza yelled from the living room couch where I knew her to be glued to her laptop screen. It wasn't really much of a living room and more of the room where we don't sleep or cook. Given how small our budget is, we were only able to afford a three-room apartment. We had to share a bedroom, but we managed.

I looked up from my bed to the doorway. From here I could see the top of her mop of unruly blonde curls. "What is it, Lizzie? Whatever you have to say, you can tell me from here!"

"Trust me, you have to see this!" I groaned and wrote the end of that last sentence and closed my Chromebook. My paper on the ethics of enslaving fully sentient beings was going to have to wait.

I reached over to the side of the bed and grasped the metal handle of my wheelchair. It didn't take long to heave myself on and to wheel myself over to my annoying roommate.

She shot me a shit-eating grin and flipped her computer over so that I could get a clear view of the screen. I raised a brow at her odd behaviour before my eyes were tugged down to the bright screen. My eyes widened as I read the article, and my mouth dropped open. "W-what?"

Her smirk slid off her face as she got a closer look at my expression. "Well, aren't you going to enter?"

The article was about a state-of-the-art Transformers VR game. Ever since virtual reality actually became a possibility, it had really picked up steam and all the big gaming companies have begun to race towards making a full-on all-body virtual reality experience. It's been tried again and again, but nobody has yet been able to actually create the perfect full-body dive.

The company making this had recruited the best neuroscientists and anima-theologists* money could buy, and from the scientific advancements that they specialised in, they had a far likelier chance of actually accomplishing this. They had even made a contract with Hasbro for full rights on the game if it works.

And the best part was that they were looking for thirty individuals to test it out. The survey would go out across the world, looking for the thirty people most like the thirty Autobots chosen for this team. Apparently, they wanted the characters to act most in-character as possible for the playing would be most realistic.

From what I could gather, the game's objective was to navigate a war-torn world and regroup without getting killed by the Decepticons. The players would be separated into groups of two or three and would have to get to the meeting-point either together or by themselves. How they got to the checkpoint was up to the players themselves, but they would only have a vague length of time to train and get used to their bodies before the 'crash' and they would be scattered across Cybertron.

It sounded awesome.

I doubted that I would even be allowed to enter.

I sighed, and let my head hang. My hair fell like a curtain between my face and the rest of the world. My voice was flat and emotionless. "Elizabeth. I doubt that they would want a crippled student to test something like this out." I let my eyes close. Another lost opportunity. All because of a ten-year-old car-crash. Just like how I'd never been able to continue the family legacy and join the military next year, just like how my hopes for becoming a dance instructor had crashed and burned.

"Aw, come on, Mare!" Liza reached over and parted my hair. "If they really want a full-body experience, they're going to have to test for disabled people as well. Anyways, your virtual body will be in perfect functional order. It's just your mind going over." I sighed and straightened my posture back out. If my father could have seen me, he would have given me a lecture about proper posture. Heh. He'd make a great Ultra Magnus.

She gave me a lopsided grin. "Fine. But then you have to enter as well." Her grin widened into an actual smile. I felt my own lips twitch upwards. Liza would make a great Jazz. Or Bumblebee. She'd make an awesome Bumblebee. I could hold my misgivings to myself.

"Well then? Let's do this!"

The next hour was spent on our laptops doing the survey. Swapping opinions on the other, asking for ideas, keeping each other honest. "So, who do you think you'll be?" I looked up at my companion for a second before going back to my entry.

A, B, A, D. "Not sure. Maybe Sunstreaker?" We were both pretty surly about our art and not all too sociable with too many people. Liza could be my Sideswipe.

"Nah, you're far too clueless and saying you care that much about your appearance is like saying the sky is neon green. And anyway, you'd need to at least know your Sideswipe. I may like a prank or two, but I'm far too cautious to pull off some of their more reckless moves. And I would never be able to stand up to Ratchet. Do you think I'm more of a laid-back dudette or more uptight?"

C, D, A, C, B, B, A. I tossed a pillow in the direction of her head. A soft swear informed me that I had hit my target. "That's for the 'clueless' comment. And laid-back. Seeing you as uptight would make me seriously worried. So, who do you think you'll be?"

"Dunno. Maybe that big dude with a shuttle alt? Uh… Jetstorm, Jetfire? Nah, those are Animated. You think they'll stick us into femme-bots because of our gender?"

D, B, A, C. "Skyfire the pacifist? Pfft. Yeah, you're too fond of a good fight for that to work out. And I'm not even sure if the game will even have femmes. Devastation didn't."

"What do you mean? Won't they need 'em for girls? On a rate of one to ten, how messy am I?"

B, A, A, D, C, A. "Definitely an eight, at the very least. I swear, some of your stuff is migrating over to my side of the curtain. That reminds me, you're cleaning that room before nightfall. And you forget, Cybertronians don't really have genders, so it won't really matter. Femme is just a rare frame-type. A mech would work perfectly fine for a female player. Should I include my military background?"

"Huh. Forgot that. And thanks for the reminder, Mom. You probably should. I wouldn't mind getting Jazz. He's cool. How much farther do you have?"

"Just a few more." A, C, D, A, and done. "And that's it." The page changed. "Hm."

Liza paused and came over to look over my shoulder. "What does 'hm' mean? Oh. Oh."

Dear Potential Player,

Thank you for submitting your entry for this trial run. By entering this and sending in your personal information, you acknowledge that NASCorp is not liable for not being chosen for Team Primoris. If selected, you shall be isolated for the duration of the testing. For every two months, you shall be reimbursed with 10 000 dollars directly into your bank account. Once the testing is complete, you shall be given royalties for the completed Transformers Renegade game and NASCorp shall pay for any schooling left in your degree or any debts from schooling.

May fortune smile upon you,

NASCorp & Hasbro

"Pretty sweet deal." Liza gave me a smirk before sitting back down on our worn-down couch to finish the survey. I frowned as I typed in my email, address and fax code. My name, age and gender had been given at the beginning of the entry. After sending it, I felt a sinking feeling in my gut.

"I guess." At my tone, my friend looked over the top of her computer at me. Her typing slowed to a stop. "It's logical, given how long they could keep us. If they didn't reimburse the players, that would be months, perhaps years, of income down the drain." I pursed my lips and closed the screen. "People with a family to support would need the money to help them out, and anyone with a scholarship could very well have it run out by the time they return to the real world."

"Hey, lighten up. This is only if we get drafted." I turned to face her. From my point of view, I could see that she was entering her personal data now. "And if there's something shady going on, we'll find a way to shut it down." As she sent off the info to the address, she shut down her computer and turned to face me.

Her bright blue eyes sparkled. "But wouldn't it be great?"

I had to agree. In two weeks, we'd get our answer. I knew how unlikely it'd be for me to be chosen, but one could always hope.

But lady luck rarely smiled at me. Would even my sliver of fortune work?

*Anima-theology; the study of the human soul. Not actually a real field of study, unfortunately, and merely a deviation between this world and ours.

Inspired by the fanfic Is This Reality? by AlloraStar217. Please review and tell me how you think? This is my first published story on this platform, and I'd really like to know how to improve in my writing.

Thanks, and please enjoy!