Memory Bubble: Voyeurism

Memory Bubble: Voyeurism is a Memory Bubble.
==Location==
==Dialogue==
:Bubbles are floating in the air with a colorful glow gliding on their surfaces. For some reason, they form an image that seems to carry a profound meaning. As you approach them, a female voice that sounds similar to Herta's murmurs monotonously, "Peeping."
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:It is always stiflingly hot on the Abelane Express. Every day, You are squeezed shoulder to shoulder with various mechanical bodies as you commute home from work, as if you are one of those cans of Tiber fish stuffed in your fridge — or a fish inside the cans itself.
:You are using the cloudy prosthetic eye at the back of your head to peep at the blonde woman — or, more precisely, the blonde female robot — behind you. You stare at her phone screen, happily browsing her romantic life that reads like a soap opera.
:This distance is extremely delicate. You consider yourself as someone who walks on the edge of MORALITY. Out of the remaining shreds of your conscience, you deliberately move your frontal vision away — that's totally not because it's easier to peep this way. Totally not.
:You wonder whether she is a colleague from your department? You have no idea, but you enjoy reading about her interactions and schemes with her 18 lovers. Between you and her, you are not sure who is more guilty, but you've always had a knack for finding excuses to prove your innocence...
:"Work is hard, life is dull, and I don't even have enough Abelane Coins to buy tickets with a seat." That's what you've always used to excuse yourself. "I wouldn't behave like this if I can afford to take a floating cab everyday!"
:Anyway, it's the IPC's fault for carrying out this so-called trade expansion! You are indignant, but you don't really understand what "trade expansion" even means. You just remember the term is often mentioned by your supervisor.
:Whoever wants to be a saint can be one. You ain't gonna be one unless the act gives you money — you re-focus your gaze on the constantly refreshing phone screen. She is typing... You concentrate and try to read the messages:
:"The guy next to me is the 19th."
:You can feel a sharp rise in the temperature of your brain computer. You roll your prosthetic eye around to check your surroundings, but there is no one around you. Who is the 19th? Have you been caught? Is there a police patrolling nearby? Or...
:Regardless of the outcome, you dare not continue your train of thought. You realize you are timider than you imagined yourself to be... and the electronic components in your body are also kicking off chemical reactions from the catalytic heat. You feel dizzy.
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