Curtains drawn open, his apartment was illumimated only by the red lights of resident electronics and the neon, advertisement-filled streets of a post-war Vegas. It wasn't much different than the Vegas he once heard stories about. It was still filled with people all throughout the day and night. It was still a place of excess and sin, especially now in the age of neurotech.

He leaned back in his chair, staring unblinking out over the city. A holo-ad for the popstar Helluva Ride played above it all, dancing silently in the night hours. He did not like the popstar. Were you really even you if every single part of you had been replaced in your desperate clawing for immortality?

The stillness and silence made his stomach tighten and twist, an anxiety coursing through his muscles, a finger idly rubbing across the screen of his phone. His body ached for a task. A meaningful, productive task.

...it was getting too late into the night. Where was his broker? If anything happened to his broker...