The locksmith knelt down to examine the mangled keyhole in Exetorâ€™s office door. He turned his head and raised a brow at the man seated behind the desk, who was typing with twelve fingers and paying little attention to the tradesman. â€œSo uh, how did this happen?â€
A grumble came from the broad-shouldered man at the desk, â€œI was in a hurry, all right? Havenâ€™t you ever broken something while in a hurry?â€ Exetor said before reading the words â€˜Bionic Locksmithâ€™ on the back of the tradesmanâ€™s uniform. â€œOhâ€¦ I guess you havenâ€™t.â€
Exetor felt weird in his office, talking to thirteen people on the transmitter in his brain and watching his door being fixed. The scene was a bit awkward with silence, so he sat up and decided to be nice for once. â€œSo, are you natural born or implanted?â€
â€œExcuse me?â€ The locksmith turned his head with a look of surprise on his face and annoyance at being distracted from his job.
â€œI mean, are you born or implant? Not a hard questionâ€¦ wait, youâ€™re not one of those liberal bionics, are ya?â€
Even though Exetor was digging himself into a bigger hole, the man just toyed with the rim of his hat and went back to examining the lock. â€œBorn with it.â€
â€œAh, thatâ€™s cool. Iâ€™m an implant myself. Yes, these babies cost me a pretty credit.â€ He held up his hands, wiggling all twelve fingers. The glint in Exetorâ€™s eyes changed constantly with the numerous moods he was forced into due to the numerous conversations, but he kept a smile for the locksmith. â€œThe transmitter and the language translator were both in-grown after the process.â€
â€œYeah, well, you do something long enoughâ€¦â€ The locksmith started, as his eyes narrowed to better see inside the lock.
Exetor interrupted again, â€œThatâ€™s what they say, isnâ€™t it? Do something long enough and it adjusts for you? Iâ€™m surprised the nano-people havenâ€™t made it into an ad campaign.â€ He rubbed his chin, considering the money one would make from such an endeavor. His guest remained silent. The locksmith was beginning to regret working for the big wigs.
â€œYou know, manâ€¦ I hear that if a bionic nympho goes at it long enough, her thing starts to-â€œ
â€œWhoa!â€ The tradesman had heard enough and set a solid glare with huge pupils towards Exetor as a look of disgust etched itself across his features. â€œLook, buddy. Iâ€™m here to see if I can fix the door and get you a new key. I donâ€™t need to hear your theories about sex and bionics.â€
The businessman frowned then shrugged and went back to rapid typing. His eyes already transfixed on the business going by at alarming speeds displayed on the screen.
With a sigh, the man at the door stood back up and started putting away his tools; he put on a pair of shades. â€œIâ€™ll grow a key for you by tomorrow. Itâ€™ll be my ring finger so itâ€™ll cost you a bit more.â€