Vincent’s performing checktests on his Claw lying on bedsheets, scanning template tickets, comparing results, wooden gone-hand attached to arm-stump, one-finger stretched to push buttons, the others in a loose fist. He should change device soon: it’s obsolete. As is the rest of me, he sighs despondent, then rolleyes: he hates self-pity.

            On the wallscreen, he’s typed searchstring for Claws within his price range. There aren’t many: Claw jobs don’t pay that well and he can’t afford. True, they’re cheaper than the fourteen-digit double-prosthesis you need for dataentry, but: he’s not clerk. He doesn’t have the diplomas that go with fastyping.

            What he is is Claw: when on duty, he wears what’s basically crab-pincer at the end of his left arm, fitted with scanner light pulsing neon blue. What it does is scan. And nothing else. Off duty, he’s got wood-mitt on instead. Some colleagues have gone-hooks, others more expansive gone-haptics they treat like shiny pedigree pets.

            Scrolling and head-shaking, a succession of Claws on display. All new models compliant with Resolution 150:

            Employers are no longer required to provide endorphined neural connections. Older tools will have to be back-engineered to comply.

            That’s another hurdle. The Claw and Affiliated Union is just not powerful enough to fight this. CAU is concentrating instead on resolution 151, aimed at authorising companies to equip workers with pain-triggering TENS module, up to a level 5 resistance. So. Up to date Claws will no longer supply the elusive buzz one gets when processing a good, rare or expensive ticket nomore, but scanning an out-of-date stub may knock you down. CAU says one has to choose one’s battles, but. Fuck.

            A new Claw won’t fit anyway. He’ll have to upgrade his port first, then install. Vincent never manages to make enough to upgrade to the latest iteration, always having to remain two versions behind, or even three when times are hard. False economy, he knows, but nomatter, coz that’s all he can do anyway. Staying behind. Adding an intermediate Mod-layer to his existing graft would look bulky and ungainly, wouldn’t confer this air of confidence and above-boardness he needs to get good ticket contracts instead of being terminally LondonTube-confined.

            Maybe plug in garlands, like they do in Japan. A micro-chyron with inspirational quotes, or a holographic cartoons projector. Christmas lights, pulsing vibes for high-qual raves, stuff like that. Make it fun, irreverent, heart-shaped, cynosure. But. He lives in London, not Tokyo: people here more likely to headbutt than bow.