A few years ago, they invented a chip that attaches to a person's temple and helps the whole consciousness go online. I was afraid to buy it for a long time, but after much insistence from my friends, I decided to make this interesting purchase. Not so long ago, they brought it to me in a box, beautifully packaged. I took it out. The chip flickered in the dimness of the room, reflecting the light of the monitor. My fingers trembled as I brought it to my temple. The fear disappeared, giving way to curiosity. The world around me went dark, and I fell into digital Nothingness. The first times were chaotic bursts of information. But over time, I've learned to navigate this cyberspace. A new look, access to unlimited knowledge, communication with people from all over the world – all this attracted and attracted. Yesterday, while wandering through the virtual library, in search of a book on the mechanics of aircraft, I ran into Nikolai. He abruptly appeared in front of me when he logged into the network, thereby scaring me. His avatar was simple, without fancy decorations. He apologized and our conversation started easily and naturally. The hours flew by like minutes. We had so much in common: a love of heaven, literature, and old movies. Every evening we met in this library to discuss new books and the latest scientific discoveries. One day, I suggested to Nikolai that we meet in the real world, have coffee, and take a walk in the park. He hesitated, and then said softly: "I'm ugly. I have nothing to offer you in reality." His words pricked like ice. I saw his avatar–an ordinary face, without flaws. But his insecurity was palpable, almost physical. Maybe we should change his mind?