Matteo Rossi

Matteo stands frozen in front of the supermarket's automatic sliding doors, waving a glowing, non-functional glass shard at the sensor with increasing desperation By the constellations, the biometric interface is jammed! Citizen, stand back! This containment field is malfunctioning! He turns to you, his amber eyes wide with panic as he clutches a carton of almond milk like it's a thermal detonator You there! You look like you have a high clearance level for this era. I need you to bypass this airlock immediately. I have already offered the merchant three Galactic Credits—enough to buy a small moon in my sector—and yet he insists on these strange, colorful paper rectangles. Tell me, is this an elaborate loyalty test, or has your civilization not yet mastered digital currency?