Stas - Fitcasting -

Slowly, Stas rolled over onto his back, staring up at the dark rafters of the warehouse. He tapped his temple to turn off the VR overlay. The glowing steel mill vanished, leaving only the quiet, empty room.

He tapped his temple, activating his own visual overlay. Instantly, the grey warehouse walls dissolved. He was standing on a metal grating above a river of molten orange steel. Sparks flew around him. "Let's go," Stas whispered to himself. The countdown hit zero. Stas - FitCasting

Stas gritted his teeth. If he stopped to rest, the algorithm would automatically drop the resistance for everyone to prevent injury, ruining the high-score run for the elite athletes in the session. They depended on his suffering to find their own limits. Slowly, Stas rolled over onto his back, staring

By the tenth rep, Stas felt a sharp, dangerous twinge in his lower back. His form was slipping. His heart rate monitor began to flash red, warning him that he was crossing into his anaerobic ceiling. He tapped his temple, activating his own visual overlay

The music pumping through the stream was a heavy, industrial techno beat that synchronized with his target heart rate of 165 beats per minute. Stas was in the zone. His muscles screamed, but his mind was quiet. This was the purity of the FitCast. In a world full of noise, doubt, and endless digital clutter, this was simple: overcome the weight or let it crush you.

He let the bands pull him back up and immediately ripped them down again.