Fedor laughs out loud.
— Lara, calm down. Everything that has to do with new developments involving artificial intelligence, I can’t just hand out to anyone—he says meaningfully, letting out a heavy sigh—especially since this concerns a face transplant. It’s like a dangerous weapon of mass destruction. What matters is how, and whose hands it ends up in.
I don’t remember ever opening my eyes wider than I am right now.
— But…—I mumble indistinctly—transplantation means there is a donor… and very quietly—right?
— I can’t help agreeing, — Fedor nods.