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He was just a man who had told the right lie.

Elias sat in the Silent Core, a Faraday-caged bunker buried under the ruins of Reykjavík. His desk wasn't a screen but a neural lace woven into his cerebral cortex. Raw data from every major ledger streamed directly into his visual cortex as a torrent of colors and shapes. To an outsider, it looked like he was staring at static. To him, it was a symphony of deception. bitviser

Elias typed the Scuttle’s incantation. The lace grew hot. Data poured through him like liquid fire. He was just a man who had told the right lie

He smiled. He was no longer a Bitviser.