“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.