A biodrive hides under a tattoo on my thigh, with enough memory to store data from neuroscience experiments I transport, airgapped. Covert pharmaceutical labs develop nootropics for troops and VIPs, cognitive enhancements and novel treatments for neurodiversities. Post-doc double agents steal data for competing labs, and rendezvous with me to transfer it to my wetware. Sometimes I toy with them. Today’s transfer is at a hackerspace. I try not to attract attention to the biodrive. They’d all want to gawk at the latest tech. The neuroscientist is late, I have to pretend to care about a demo, and when she…