Holocube

One wall was a huge holo cube displaying Geneva's table of organization, a spidery orange pyramid with tens of thousands of names connected by lines, from the mayor at the top to the “corridor security” people at the base.

He snapped a holo-cube into the projector and switched on. I gasped and shrank back in my seat as a great crustacean sprang into being in front of me, blind, chitinous, rust-red, and malevolent.

And on a little table beside the bed, he found a holocube with a tiny picture of a woman wearing a yellow dress in it. When he moved the ’cube, the woman waved at him and laughed.

Not a cassette, not an infodisk, not a holocube, but an actual book, with a cover and binding and pages.