Getting to the hospital's easy. It's easy when you've got a little something extra putting a spring in your step. Dulling the ache of the sidewalk and turning the clouds into dragons fucking.
Someone's either getting killed for this chip or a raise.
They sky's electric blue, and the buildings are the color of leprechaun vomit.
It's not a pretty color. Cats was friends with a leprechaun. You'd think they could hold their whisky, the Irish bastards.
The worst bit is unplugging the thing for long enough to get in the study.
The second worst thing. The worst thing is ducking into a Starcaf bathroom and taking a multitool to some cyberware. There's arms that have compartments for this sort of thing. Then there's arms where you stick in some duct tape and hope you've got everything out of the way of the important stuff. And try not to flex.
The entry's a blur. A vague gray haze, trying to spot the fuzzy cameras on the gray walls.
Find a place that's clear. Even these corporate assholes don't want to watch you shit.
Out come the chips. Out come the drones.
It's time to get to work.
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