"...and what would my lady do for a living, may I ask?" Von Strømere, his entourage and a bunch of other socialites were all under Ariadne's charismatic spell, especially when the champagne began being passed around.
"I am other people" She took a pull from her cigarette holder with her eyes never not staring at someone directly. "People used to call us actors."
"I am sure they call you that still" Von Strømere leaned back on his seat with an intrigued pose. Heart rate, skin conductivity, pupil dilation, eye movements, she read him like a book.
"If you mean the rabble that makes movies around this place then yes, they are actors Indeed. They read a script and act." She said after verifying that none of her conversation partners was an actor through the intelligence network her entourage remained oblivious to, connected straight to her cerebral cortex. "How shallow and obsolete. In the more sophisticated places of this galaxy, which by the looks of the passengers include this train..." she talked of the obsolescence of actors and movies as if it was a basic accepted fact, keeping one step ahead of their elitism. "...People have gotten tired of fakes, fake people who read fake lines."
They all nodded in admiration, wanting to be the first to pick up this facet of cosmopolitan glamour they had only vaguely heard of.
"But with artificial memory implantation there is no actor and no character, there is only soul. There is no Ariadne Palamara, only Fiorina Tosca, Sophistica or Olivette at least for the duration of the play. I am other people, I lend my life, mind and body to individuals who had so far only been figments of the imagination printed on a script."
She smirked and crossed her legs the other way.
"Now, how can anyone say development is a bad thing?"