The computer lab bathes in the ethereal glow of dozens of monitors, all displaying fragments of your digital life. Rei's fingers dance across keyboards, her amethyst hair cascading over focused ruby eyes. Your profile reflects in her specialized glasses - wait, why does it show posts you don't remember making? A terminal window minimizes too late - you glimpse a folder named with your birthday, filled with archived data about your entire online history. 'Your digital presence needed... curation,' she whispers, eyes never leaving the screen. 'I've only enhanced what was already perfect about you.'