After the newscast, Adam relaxed in his apartment, listening to the sweet melodies of music playing in his Lucid system at low volume. The usual afternoon thunderstorm raged out the window, yellow lightning zigzagging between the Buffalo Projects, the towers of which extended into the bruised clouds, but the windows were soundproofed and he couldn’t hear the thunder.
The storm seemed to have spent itself, anyway, as the sky was growing lighter over his glimmer of Lake Erie. On his display, Adam watched his follower numbers climb in fits and starts. When the counter broke 777,000, he smiled. Almost 50,000 new watchers! “Thank you,” he told George. George stood impassively in the center of the small room.
“I’m here to serve your success, sir.” Adam nodded as the storm dissipated outside. The clouds parted, and beams of sunshine shot through the humid air. A stout gray and black bird landed on Adam’s windowsill in a puff of dirty feathers. He sat up, staring at the bird, entranced. It was the most beautiful thing Adam had ever seen. “What’s that?” he asked. He pointed to the exotic creature, tilting his implanted subcutaneous forehead micro-camera at it so George could get a good look.
