Further on, the glass becomes blurred and showcases the silhouettes of bodies. Some lean against the glass and adjust their suits, stare around, or converse with others. I walk further down, others can be seen in queues waiting in lines.
“Can I help you?” I pulse my jaw. A lady, with the side of her profile illuminated red, stands down the hallway with her hands in her pockets. I don’t respond so she begins forward. She’s not wearing a suit, instead she wears a lose black long sleeve shirt with matching pants. She’s a few feet from me till I realize I haven’t moved an inch. One of Callahan’s smiles flashes into my mind. I stand correct.
“I’m looking for some high level Synthetic parts.”
“The Military Stockade is a few levels up,” she stares at me, “what’s up with the mask?”
“I’m deformed.” I lie without skipping a beat.
“Oh.” She waits a beat before saying.
“Are you a doctor?”
“Why, yes.”