Minh sat at a table made of light and code. He picked up a virtual bowl of phở, feeling the heat through his haptic gloves. For the next sixty minutes, he wasn't a corporate runner or a survivor. He was just a son.
It was Old Tan, the shop keeper whose eyes were more camera lens than flesh. Minh sat at a table made of light and code
"Just a memory," Minh replied, sliding a credit chip across the counter. " Minh replied