You leave for The Institute for Optimal Amusement.
The Institute for Optimal Amusement
The inside of the building looks like a physics laboratory: clean, white, and sterile.  Many researchers wearing short-sleeved dress shirts, slacks, and bow-ties move about jotting down notes on clipboards, talking to eachother, and arguing about complex equations on the whiteboards festooning the walls.  More of them are tending the various pieces of equipment or seeing to the fair-goers enjoying the ride.

What equipment it is!  The most pronounced piece is a large black ellipse, hovering suspended in mid-air, either whirling so fast it blurs or hanging serene and still, a quiet sub-sonic hum coming from the framework surrounding (but not touching) it.  A thick, black cable connects the frame to a heavily fortified box with a cheerfully ominous blue Cherenkov glow shining through a viewport.  A sign behind it announces sternly that "CAUTION MUST BE OBSERVED WHEN REMOVING PLUTONIUM FROM THE FAST BREEDER REACTOR."

People move back from the ride toward the door, trembling, walking as if in a dream, though a few small children yell "I want to go again!  That was great!" while jumping up and down...are you sure you want to [ride] this thing?
Obvious Exits:
    The way [OUT]
ex here
Owner: Azure
ride
Of course you are!  You get in line and head to the machine, and an impersonal technician moves your capsule to the access port and helps you inside.  The ominous thrum is louder inside the mechanism, but is quickly muffled as he closes the door and the capsule fills with a hard foam, completely destroying your ability to move.  A snorkel leads from your mouth to the door so you can breathe.  The fields levitating the ellipse shift and the whole thing starts twirling, faster and faster.  As if that weren't bad enough, magnetic fields moving along the track start pushing all the capsules in concert...you're in a cyclotron!

It could be worse.  If the power failed you'd be thrown right against the wall of the track and be killed instantly, not to mention the whole thing falling.  Or if the synchrony failed all the capsules would be crushed together at hypersonic speeds.  You don't have to worry about that.

The sign above the ride proudly proclaimed that "The Zipper Next Generation provides the provably maximal level of thrill for any kinetic amusement whose fatality rate is under 1%."  The fatality rate couldn't be that low if they had catastrophes like that.  If you die it'll be from a heart attack.

You might get the impression that "thrill" is a euphemism for "stark, animal terror."

It's finally over, the ride coming to a stop and the foam melting away.  A technician helps you out, keeping you steady.  He takes a small saliva sample and a drop of blood if you aren't quick enough to stop him and thanks you for your cooperation.  He offers a beta-blocker to help with the shaking.