I am an underground geek who is on the run with my four-year-old daughter. In my arms are the core blueprints that can overthrow the conglomerate. In a desperate situation on a rainy night, I broke into a junk shop and blindly disassembled the boiler that was about to explode with one hand. I saved the life of the irritable proprietress who was heavily in debt. I hid in the basement on the pretext of repairing appliances to pay off the debt.
Outsiders think that I am a down-and-out single father who is submissive and has to argue with people for half a day for even 50 cents. Little do they know that neuron modification has given my hands [absolute microscopic touch].
Dimensionality reduction turns waste into treasure: 0.01 Mm of metal fatigue can be felt by touching your fingertips. What others see as scrap metal, I can repair a million-level industrial machine with my bare hands using a rusty screwdriver, and sell it for a sky-high price.
Hard-core cyber parenting: Use scrapped drones and old mobile phone motherboards, and in ten minutes give your daughter a mechanical guard dog that can automatically track down enemies and blind the eyes of local snakes who come to collect debts.
Dark night counter-killing trap: During the day, he was scolded by the philistine boss lady. At night, he used used microwave ovens and second-hand capacitors to set up deadly physical pulse traps, melting down the consortium killers one after another without any blood.
I had just taken off my coat, which was full of motor oil, when I discovered that a red light was flashing extremely slowly in the gap of my daughter's schoolbag - it was a military-grade micro tracker.
They entered the city.
I picked up the soldering iron on the workbench and pushed open the iron door of the basement. Tonight, it's time for the thrift store to stock up on some "new junk" made by living people.
