He didn't use it.
The panel couldn't create new pain. It could only recycle the old. And if he had to feel the same funeral every day for eternity, then the funeral ceased to be a wound. It became a ritual. And a ritual is something you survive. premium panel ff
Elias had no external input. No news, no calls, no windows. His reality was 100% internally generated, fed back to him in a loop. The panel showed him his memories, but not as he remembered them. It showed him the truth . He didn't use it
She hit send, sipped her matcha latte, and never once wondered if the man in the basement had stopped fearing because he had nothing left to lose. And if he had to feel the same
He couldn't close his eyes. The panel was behind his eyes. The only escape was the "Panic Button"—a virtual red square that hovered in the bottom right of his visual field. Pressing it would drop him from FF down to the "Basic" tier for sixty seconds. Basic was a gray void. No joy, no pain. Just a humming silence. Like being a lightbulb that had been unscrewed.
Corporate loved it. Until a beta tester tore out her own implant.