The High-Band was a stark departure from the gritty, rain-slicked neon of the Under-Net. Here, the code was so refined it possessed a crystalline elegance a sky of perpetual twilight, architectural spires made of polished ivory data, and air that tasted of expensive champagne and ozone. It was the digital Olympus, the restricted partition where the directors of Aegis Dynamics and the architects of the global grid lived in a state of frictionless luxury.
To enter, we couldn't bring the roar of a variable-compression engine. We had to arrive as a whisper.
"I feel like a stranger in my own skin," I murmured, adjusting the silk of the gown as I caught my reflection in the shimmering surface of a hovering transport.
The dress was a masterpiece of "Vantablack" data a gown that didn't just abs
