They All Fall Down
The hologram shimmered to life instantly, the familiar, sculpted form of the archangel materializing above my wrist.
“Hi, Angelina.”
I ignored it. Him. I tapped my wrist against the geek’s payment terminal, watching the 3000 kroner vanish from my display with a sickening finality. The boy, now a man who had gotten everything he’d bargained for and more, beamed at me, his earlier predatory smirk softened into a look of dazed, grateful infatuation.
“Anytime,” he said, his voice a little too eager. “If you need anything else… updates, hardware, anything… you know where I am, I am Simon by the way.”