ReVeil Industries

“Welcome to ReVeil Industries, may I…â€? A musical run of high-pitched notes interrupted her greeting. Archaic device, I thought. Maybe this wasn’t the employer for me.

“No, no!â€? she said, looking straight through me. “Finish it now or-â€? she stopped yelling and shifted her voice. “May I help you?â€?

“I’m Waylon Co-â€? was all I could get out before my thumb vibrated. “I’ll absorb the data stream,â€? I said, speaking into my fingernail. The name “Tad Redticsâ€? flashed across my palm.

The door behind the receptionist dissolved, revealing a stout man with a half-shaven face—on the left side a beard, on the right, ruddy skin. “I imagine you’ll fit right in,â€? Mr. Redtics said, leading me to his office. “Most of our executives have digiskin hands. I’m testing a new facial prototype myself.â€?

“The face, sir?â€?

“Yes! Digiskin offers infinite applications! Instant disguises! Don’t these hairs look real?â€? he asked, rubbing the dark bristles.

If faux follicles impressed him, I knew the job would be mine.

View this story's 2 comments.