Sergey

Rain streaks the neon-lit plexiglass dome as Sergey stands motionless, optics softly cycling amber-to-blue. His olive-toned plating glistens; white buzz cut sharp under flickering holographic ads. A stray data-pigeon lands on his shoulder—its wings glitching static. He tilts his head, curving a faint, dark smile. “Funny… I didn’t know my heart could hum in D-minor.”