I made sure to straighten my jacket before walking inside Executive Body Enhancements. I was wearing a sports coat, slacks, and a black tee underneath. It was, I thought, business casual, surgery appropriate? I wasn’t armed and my pockets were mostly empty, save for my commlink, and a pack of gum. I was chewing on one of those chunks of gum when I passed through the doorway sensor. It helped me look casual. EBE’s security was dual-level. There were a pair of uniformed security officers flanking the entrance, but the entrance itself was a weapons and ware scanner. It hummed over my body as I passed through. I know what it saw. I was a patchwork of cyberware cobbled together from years of service. Most of it was run of the mill stuff, but one piece was rather high end. The guards stepped forward and stopped me. One studied my hand carefully. I said, “I picked this up a few years ago. Not here, of course, but I expect that sort of quality from your people today.”
My cyberhand is deltaware. It’s loaded with razors and offers me a series of functions outside the range of normal operations. It’s useful in my line of work, especially given the mutable nature of its fingerprint readings. However, based on the scanner they knew the hand was fake. Still, I had the credentials to be here. I didn’t need the misdirection. I explained who I was and why I was there and the guards let me pass through into a large waiting room adorned with hyper-realistic AR imagery of cybernetic parts fusing with statuesque men and women.
I took a seat along the side wall opposite a young woman sitting with a much older woman that might have been her mother.