The screens on the wall flared to life, displaying a chaotic painting of the banker's fractured memories—faces screaming, numbers burning.
Elias made his way to the bar. The bartender, a woman with chrome-plated arms and eyes that mimicked camera apertures, looked at him. babesafreak
"Your edges," Elias said. "Your roughness. She smooths you out. You become... palatable. Less human. More efficient." The screens on the wall flared to life,
Most people walked past it. It was sandwiched between a laundromat that smelled of burnt rubber and a pawn shop specializing in broken guitars. To the uninitiated, it looked like a dive bar or a particularly aggressive tattoo parlor. looked at him. "Your edges