“Up until now, Yent, you’ve only either been on-line or off-line.”
Yent squinted through his black eye, straining against the fibercore ropes that held him to the doric pillar in the hotel lobby. A lock of maroon-colored hair covered his other eye, the one he’d bought off a suicide booth hacker from Moscow. He wished he hadn’t forgot to turn it back on after cleaning it this afternoon.
“Your world reads like a children’s mathematics lesson: one or two, go or stop, on or off. Binary and limited.”
The Man in the Monocle turned away from the ornate metalwork of the elevator to face Yent. His hair was the color of lightning, and his eyes were the blue of Robingo pills. His cane, hat, and jacket all felt ancient, relics of a time of English detectives.
“I have another world to introduce you to.” The Man pulled from his coat a device, bulbous at one end and sharp at the other. In a moment, he was at Yent’s side, pulling his head down, and jamming the tip into the back of Yent’s neck.
“Welcome to trinary, Yent.”