My private aug showed ages beside every face in the room, but maintained each digitally overlaid, customisable appearance.
“Miss-“ the one hundred and forty-three earth-year old who didn’t look a day over twenty.
“Doctor,” I corrected.
Doubt flashed across all faces.
“Project Fireweed will be swift and precise,” I announced to the group, “replacing current programming with our new system. Individuals deserve privacy once more.”
Everyone sat up in outrage.
“A complete overhaul is insane-”
“Do you even know if it’ll work-”
I raised a hand for silence.
“Can anyone see my age?” I asked.
None could.
© 2018-2021 Rebecca Glaessner
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