Even more frightening were the stalls that sold medtech supplies. According to the hucksters who stood behind them, the auto-inject vials they offered for sale held everything from tailored pheromones guaranteed to enhance your sex life, to mnemonic enhancers for university students needing to cram, to toxin binders, to nanite symbiotes guaranteed to cure whatever ailed you. Other vendors hawked bits and pieces of used cyberware, from softlinks to entire limbs. I didn’t want to know where these had come from—or why their original owners no longer required them.