orm.  time noticed t it  of minute geometric sogeted the cover off.

    Inside t protective skin sat a smooter console and an expensive-looking set of virtual reality goggles and gloves.  but ate-of-t consoles before and noto w . A cyberspace console.

    rembling and ies, Cald carefully. t, no standard input device interface, just triangular optical sockets of a sype ranslucent material t may or may not ic polymer. tem console designed not to connect her hardware.

    Embedded erial of transparent optical cables floating in to small sensors at tips of eacry embedded cic. tics be six tiny devices, to triangular sockets. ts looked identical. Despite ting on t as clearly as if  ced  emerged from t of the console.

    Caldual keyboard appeared before ual fingers at t pixels so a digital rendition of a  al face, a Japanese face. Kenzo Yamamoto?

    “Cald too dissimilar to talons scraping on an antique blackboard, modulated slig to grate t of t symphere was no discernable lag.

    “Yes I did. ically enhanced room.

    to a smile.

    “You can call me Kenzo, Caldo is to be formal. In anso your otion, you’ve proven yourself over tion of Sumitomo Bank of course. No to give you t freaking score in all of Europe, a ticket to time.”

    Cald t. he mask suspiciously.

    “ Sumitomo?”   of Japan.

    Peals of laugtenuated to a ch.

    “Caldime for questions. time for anse a omo Bank I stacked against you, I set it up so you .

    “t up?” Cald arting