Wait impatiently.

You make an irritated noise, then drop down into one of the nearby seats, impatiently bouncing your leg. There's a stack of worn magazines on the table besides you. You pick one up and page through it, but quickly get bored. It's not your sort of thing, and decades out of date to boot.

An hour later, the door opens again with a jingle. You look over to see the cybersecurity guy you saw in the guard outpost earlier. You stand up, intercepting him on his way through the waiting room.

Huh, two jobs. Sucks to be him.

"Hi 'Danny', need you to check my implants are solid, then recharge me."

He stops, look at you, then looks at the receptionist, who shrugs at him, and finally looks back to you.

"O-kay, come with me?" He sounds unsure and cautious. You don't really care.

You follow him into the back of the clinic. Overall, the place looks dated, but not unlike what you'd expect from an implant tech's workspace, with a lean-back patient chair, a large number of diagnostic machines, and a lot of counters around the room. You slam the door shut behind you, making Danny jump. That amuses you somewhat.

Sitting in the chair without waiting for him to instruct you - You've done this a thousand times before - you lean back in the seat, stretching your legs out.

"Sooo, what exactly is the problem?" He approaches the side of the chair, wheeling over a rolling diagnostic unit, and crouching down next to a nearby wall, connecting it to an outlet.

You mesh your hands together.

"Was in a crash. Internals say it's fine, but don't want something to fail on me when I need it. Plus, I need you to refill my power cells."

He draws a retractible cable from the unit, and looks you over.

"So, general check-up and recharge?" He sounds a lot more confident now.

Probably his area of expertise.

"Yeah. Plus, make it quick. On a schedule."

He nods, and walks around the back of the chair.

"Where's your 'jack?"

You lean your head forwards, and place a hand on the back of your head, sweeping up your hair to expose a dataport in the back of your skull.

He nods again, and leans in behind you, slotting the diagnostic cable into the back of your head. You bring your arm back down.

"Most people around here have them in their wrists. Company policy before the fall, I think."

A small battery charging symbol appears in the corner of your vision. Seeing it makes you feel a lot better. You cross your arms and wait, patiently, while the number counts up. At the same time, Danny observes a screen. You presume he's reading the diagnostic report on your condition.