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Wiggle around a lot and scream incoherently
"OHAUGH AAA PAIN OH IT HURTS AAAH PLEASE LET ME DIE NOW! OOOOOOOOH RAZZA FRAZZA POOTY BAKE! ARGHHH!" you scream, cradling your crippled hand.
"ARRGH," you moan, "THIS VIRTUAL REALITY CYBER-SUCKS!"
A few weeks later you sit down with Morpheus for your first month employment interview.
"Listen," he says, "I don't think this is going to work out. Don't feel bad, this just isn't a good cultural fit."
"It's because I said 'cyber-sucks' isn't it?" you ask. Thinking back, that's the moment when things started to feel off.
"It's," Morpheus says, "It's not just because of that."
"But really, you're kicking a skilled adventurer off your rebel team?" you plead, "You're not even going to try to get rid of me by sending me on a suicide mission?"
Morpheus purses his lips.
"Oh," you say, "Oh god. That's what last week was. With all the Agents. And the bullets."
"Yeah," Morpheus admits, "And the week before. Actually, we were kinda hoping you would die in training too. We turned off all the safeties."
"That's why my tummy still hurts!" you shout, pounding the table.
Morpheus looks confused. "No, that's just you."
"Oh." you say. "What now?"
Morpheus holds out a red pill. "Take this." You open your mouth, and he adds, "No it's not for your tummy."
You snatch the pill and stuff it down your gullet, glaring daggers at Morpheus the whole time.
"Then what IS it for?" you ask.
"It disrupts your carrier wave," he explains, "Which boots you out of Virtual Reality. After that, you're on your own."
At least, that's probably what he said. Everything around you is wiggling in a very distracting way. You stumble over to the window and look out. You never noticed how green everything looks.