I look up from my thoughts and meet the cyborg eye of the robot butler that stands before me.
"Yes?" my voice is short, quiet. I do not need to waste time with these inferiors, these machines.
"There is someone here to see you." the voice is metallic, inhuman. Disgusting.
"Show them in." I answer, and look back at my book. A story of love and adventure, a story to distract me from my meaningless existence.
I am seated on a couch of the finest fabrics. This couch is antique, or so my father tells me. The hardwood floor is covered by an oriental rug, from Old Earth.
Unique wooden bookshelves cover the walls, filled with ancient works, made of paper, plastic, and fabric. Old fashioned.
The book in my hands is displayed on a screen. I turn pages by flicking my finger.
The idea of reading a book such as those around me disgusts me.
I catch my reflection in the mirror, my half-face. I look away quickly.
I am hideous.
I am Quasimodo, the hunchback of Prometheus, watching the city from