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. The agency's own offices were spacious, elegantly appointed, a soothing gray-blue in color scheme. Corporate headquarters were located on Inner Rankin, the smaller and more exclusive planet of a two planet system, the larger planet (industrial base) being known as Outer Rankin.
Only the most important clients were ever permitted to enter the agency's corporate headquarters, which was why the receptionist--a live, human receptionist--placed her finger on the security button when the cyborg walked through the main doors.
It was a long walk from the main doors--steelglass, blastproof--across the polished floor to the receptionist's desk, and so she had time to get a good look at the cyborg. He had obviously made a mistake.
The Wiedermann Agency took on cyborgs as clients, but such cyborgs were sophisticated types. Expensive body jobs. Not even their own mothers could have guessed they were more metal than flesh. Plastiskin and flesh-foam, muscle-gel and quiet-as-a-whisper motors, battery packs and pumps enabled most cyborgs to blend in with ordinary flesh-andblood beings, the main difference being that cyborgs always tended to look just a bit too perfect--as if they'd been tailormade, not picked up off the rack.
This particular cyborg was, however, what the receptionist would classify (did classify, for security purposes) as "hard labor." Most planets sent their convicted felons to hard-labor camps
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