38
Munich, Germany. Three Years Earlier.
‘The new titanium casing won’t just prolong the life of your machine. It will make it bulletproof.’
Mo stood with his arms folded and a finger to his chin in the cramped aisle of the computer store. It was one of his favourite haunts – always with that new motherboard smell.
Plus, it was an independent store, with assistants he could have a half-intelligent conversation with.
Like Mo, they custom-built their own machines and could source all the parts you needed to create your own from scratch.
But they were a business. And Hans, the pimpled assistant with the braces and thick black glasses was pushing to bump up the total of the order.
‘I don’t know,’ Mo said. ‘I’m not sure I see the benefit.’
‘You drop it off a roof, it won’t make a dent,’
