This time around, our narrator, Mr. Otero (he never tells us his first name; we know his last only because this is what everyone calls him), has just been hit up by an old man claiming to be the father he never knew.  Because he is dying, and broke, Timothy Fagin would like him to pick up the bill for the procedure, despite the total and complete absence of any connection between them besides the biological.

This could easily be a story of brooding and angst on the part of either or both men, but while Otero certainly has his baggage, the story stays light, and "Exvisible" instead finds its interest in its touches of humor about this odd situation, and its intricate detailing of just what "migration" is and what it entails—and why someone might choose not to take immortality on its terms. Migration is, at this point, still a work in progress, as Otero notes:

"A computer does not—yet!—create pathways based on what you experience or how you feel about that experience . . . We don’t know yet how we can use our computers to grow a mind . . . All we can do right now is move them and store them . . . they become static, incapable of further development: in a way, neither alive nor dead."