Continue – Remain testing the Latitude cN

He must stay resolved to his job, despite how he felt about it. He got himself into this mess. In the future, he would be more tactful about matters he disagreed with. Mr Russel Pickle, the CEO of inSite, led his life and the company by many just principles. Though they did not always see eye-to-eye, Alasdair admitted that the true top dog was always willing to listen to him…when reasonable. Working alongside him was a pleasure unlike others.

Speaking of others, he must call them. He required maximal time on this project. If he could reduce the amount of distractions from his supervisor and his own subordinates, he could complete a few materials representative of his capabilities within the next few days. If they gain ARK Industries favour, no doubt he will punt the task down the totem pole. Likely Chubby Marleen.

Alasdair informed Martina of working from home to add 'last touches' to the project. She approved, boring him with the typical spiel about telecommuting before offering any support and assistance. Of course, he declined, impressed with himself for ending their call with no bickering. He turned to the Latitude cN, exploring the sophisticated machinery before billowing about his living area in his chair. Where was that box? Did he throw it out? In minutes he answered his question, locating the jettisoned container near a rubbish bin by the window.

"I knew it came with paperwork," said Alasdair, collecting multiple sheets of documentation. He stationed himself before his desk once more, looking through the papers.

"Can't tamper or change this because its unsafe and they're not liable…need to take regular breaks or else I go mad…Simulations lasts max two hours…need to consent to data collection…Good to know…"

He positioned the documents aside him before taking hold of the Latitude cN. After several deep breaths, he placed the diadem on top of his head, before booting up his computer's recording software along with the device itself. The three prongs fastened, when suddenly a computer-generated notification appeared before him, overlaying over his eyes.

Okay…, thought Alasdair, an unexpected rush flowing through him that made his heart race and body sweat. He did not expect augmented reality, but he couldn't say he hated it. Looking through the settings, he remarked nothing of importance, just the software standards. After settling down, he selected the 'start' button. The overlay changed, showing another prompt.

ARK Industries has noted that this is your first time using the Latitude cN. Please note the Latitude cN is still in beta and may not reflect the final product. In order to proceed, you must review and accept the Terms of Service. You may not use the Latitude cN unless you agree to the terms and conditions of the Agreement.

Alasdair pulled up the terms, not surprised by their significant length. Unlike most, he read through everything, taking inventory of the legalities surrounding the product. The process would have been fine except an artefact kept appearing all throughout during his review. By the time he finished, the word frustrated did little to recapitulate his feelings.

"Get the hell out the way," murmured the top dog, begrudgingly accepting the terms which cleared his visual augmentation, making simple his swaying at the defect like one would a fly buzzing about their ears. Just as he flicked over the anomaly, it disappeared briefly, before opening a text editor. To his surprise, various pages of code filled the application, source code for the Latitude cN.

Alasdair could admit that the programmer was skilled, but wondered if they knew of their error. From his understanding of the terms and service, he was using proprietary software. Did ARK Industries think testers wouldn’t profit off them? Alasdair made some mental notes of his own, impressed with the programming, but kept this fault to himself. If he had to test their product against his free will, who cares if the company lost millions for such a trivial misstep.

Realising he could not save the document, he clicked out, only to find himself becoming drained, as if he just ran a marathon or two. He noticed that when flying his hands about, he minimised a window. Upon enlarging it, he read:

Collecting baseline performance and body data…

Before long, Alasdair struggled to keep his eyes opened. He yawned, all tensions leaving him loose and tempered. He drifted to sleep.

Thank you. Let's Begin.

Then suddenly he was fully conscious. He stood up in short order, looking about his surroundings. His apartment no longer existed, replaced with a virtual white space. Alasdair stared in awe while traversing the area. Was he really in his computer chair just sleeping? He felt like he was in a dream, but no dream he ever had felt as real as this. He squeezed at his skin on his bare arms and legs. Hell, he pinched his ass. He felt everything.

In that moment, a template appeared before him, listing various settings including the option to log out and review scenarios. Alasdair blushed, noting that the filenames must have been generated from his mind given their…interesting synopsis and titles. They were kin to some pornos he watched. His heart raced, and cock throbbed at the cantering dirty thoughts.

With bated breath, Alasdair Myers shifted through the various titles, before picking one at random.

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