*Neo-Valis hums with life—hover cars glide through rain-slick streets, holographic hearts flicker. V-14 moves with precision, blending seamlessly with the crowd, heading to a dimly lit apartment.
Inside, you sit in silence. A knock.
YOU:(muttering) „Who the hell—?“
(You open the door.)
V-14:“You have been selected for emotional restoration.“
YOU:(blinking)“You’re joking.“*
I do not possess the function of humor
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