You never get used to it. Skin-on-skin sensation, avoiding his gaze while never knowing when will be your last. "The shipment?", he asks me anxiously, but I can't muster any words. The distraction from the interfacing is too much and all I can do is point towards the briefcase at my feet while letting out a stammer and suppressed moan in place of where my words should have been. He nods, and I feel a little zap in my groin. I live to trade another day.
Too many of my people have been lost. Of course, trading is never without risk — if you are unlucky, you could get warts, or worse. But the people we deal with? They aren't always stand-up guys. All black market implants carry the risk of sensory overloading, whether through incompetence or malice. It's just something you learn to live with in this line of work.
Too many of my people have been lost. Of course, trading is never without risk — if you are unlucky, you could get warts, or worse. But the people we deal with? They aren't always stand-up guys. All black market implants carry the risk of sensory overloading, whether through incompetence or malice. It's just something you learn to live with in this line of work.
My business is highly confidential. Ever since the last aeonic fall, business has been booming like never before. The collapse of all central banking systems has made my services invaluable. Apparently, many controlling members of the world economy were physically incompatible with the implants, and were killed in a revolutionary act by the fecund marxists before my birth.
I was lucky enough to be born with an especially compatible commerce apparatus, enabling me to dock with tradesmen of nearly all tribes, except one. A tribespeople from Old New Zealand, who not only accepted the radical new rule, but reveled in it. Through intimidation and mastery of the craft, they are always able to get a better deal. It'd be better if you never ran into one.
I don't have any family left, and I don't intend to change this. Loose ends can be dangerous: my genetics could be spliced and my identity compromised. Or worse, if my materialisation was female, I would be out of work. One just can't combine responsibility over a woman while traveling through the galaxy, leaving her economically neutered.
In the event that one perishes, all my assets will be transferred to their male next of kin. Or, in my case, I would be fined for not having any: a meaningless gesture, an excuse for the government to drain my account and continue the hegemony. It's common for criminals to have less ethical implants: panic buttons for simulated asset transfers or memory wiping in case of death or capture. In rare instances, even exploding their interfaces. Obviously, I don't have any — according to my spec.