"Daddy!"
With a leap, Black Python jumped from the first floor directly to the fourth floor, landing on his own balcony. The daughter saw him and excitedly dashed over, while his wife, the glasses-wearing woman, was busy typing code in the virtual void.
Black Python let out a sigh of relief and gently embraced his daughter, a tiny bundle like a Barbie doll, though faintly visible were the cracks at crucial parts.
These weren't wounds, but the seams of a Bionic Man.
If it were an Advanced Bionics currently on the market, the seams could be removed. But obviously, this was not an advanced bionic.
And his wife—looking at the headset-like accessory on her head, it was clear—was a Neural Editor.
A worker, a female programmer, a low-level bionic.
They formed a false yet real family.
