"Ignore," Viktor muttered, waving a hand through the holographic air.
Viktor stared at the glowing red text flickering across his vision:
Viktor sighed. He had used a black-market "Mental-Mute" script to block the constant stream of neon advertisements for hover-insurance and lab-grown steak that usually cluttered his peripheral vision. For ten minutes, he had enjoyed a view of the real world—gray, crumbling, and wonderfully quiet. "I’m just taking a break, Alexa-7," he lied.