Nobody uses cash anymore

A nearby boy was speaking on his cell phone to a friend. Josh instantly knew he was under eighteen to be using such an archaic tool. In passing, he even caught a small amount of what the teen was saying in regards to doubts. Josh smiled to himself. The kid could throw out all the naturalist propaganda he wanted, but nobody who could afford the augmentation chose to go without it. Maybe if they were joining the service.
The glass doors opened welcomingly for him, allowing a small gust of air conditioning to blow about his person while entering. Along one side were small cubicles where people spoke out of courtesy, ahead was a long desk of helpful looking people, and to the other side were the tellers filling in for both customer service and the ATMs in the vestibule.
"Can I help you sir?" one man said, looking up from his black and blue striped tie.
"Yea, I've got some change here..." Josh held up his jar of coins.
"Around the corner and straight ahead." was the kind man's reply, indicating a short hall starting between his long desk and the cubicles. Josh wondered how their Psycho_Techs worked during office hours, and before the complete thought had formed in his head the answer was inserting itself into the back of his mind.
While on the job, employees typically are required to connect solely to the established network owned and controlled by their employer. This connection is closely monitored and restricted to certain areas of the internet deemed necessary or relevant to their work.
"So the certified internet..." he figured, walking towards where the short hall ended in two teller booths. "No streaming orgasms there..." A smile sheepishly creased the corner of his mouth at the personal joke.
"Can I help--" the girl behind the low glass pane started to ask, but was cut short when the lights went out and Josh, like most people in the building, went to their knees in response to the sudden rush of feelings and experiences that blasted through their minds.
Computer screens blacked out, controls became unresponsive, and the emergency doors made to fall were stopped by the lack of response from the lasers checking their path was clear. In a moment, the scrambling of his brain stopped to be replaced by an eerie mental silence in which he couldn't think straight.
In his hand was a jar, but he didn't register what was in that jar or why he'd come to this place, which appeared to be a bank or post office. The lights were out and people were talking in panicked voices. Then a sudden blast echoed from the lobby and Josh turned to see a man in a gas mask walking towards him with a gun.
Instinctively he raised his hands, unable to comprehend the situation. Several more men appeared and dragged the ladies behind the counter with the young man back to the lobby, where everyone was being rounded up. They shouted in crackly, distorted voices from behind tinted glass, showing little to no skin as they intimidated the confused hostages.
Josh didn't know what to do, or even how to react. His thoughts were not familiar and organized, but totally chaotic and impulsively emotional. The only clear idea he could latch onto was not to get shot. Not to be pointed at with those guns.
A moment later, the men that'd left the lobby came back with some security guards as an explosion ripped through one of the walls behind them and shattered the huge glass front. The half the figures around them vanished for a short time and came back with heavy bags.
Then they all left as sirens blared down the city streets, and Josh could think again as his system rebooted itself. Everyone started running around like clockwork as the bank's emergency system patched into their own, giving strong advise while black-clad police charged in with assault rifles and shotguns.
Josh checked the news as he sat against the wall with the other customers.
Moments ago an explosion was recorded by the police network at 241 5th Street in Chicago. Police are now on the scene and preliminary reports indicate a robbery has just taken place. There are no reports of anyone being injured. We will continue updating as the situation progresses.
At that moment the police van outside blocked the area's connection and cut Josh's feed to the internet. A thought intruded into his mind asking for permission to access his short-term database on behalf of the Chicago Police Department, and he casually agreed. A disclaimer followed that mentioned the bank, but he only thought about the key points picked out for him by a program that came standard.
His body felt weak and stressed, but his mind was clear and alert as ever. Josh realized he'd forgotten his jar of change back down the hall, and in a moment a police officer had walked over carrying it.
"Is this yours?" he asked from behind sunglasses. Josh only nodded and the man handed him the miniature vault of thick glass, which had somehow survived the explosion. Another thought occurred to him along the lines of Thank you for your cooperation, the information you've provided will be... not restricted to... any and all... appreciated... have a nice day.
After a few minutes the tellers began calling over customers one by one to complete their business as the police finished with them. The same girl who'd tried greeting him before now called him to the back booths to for his deposit.
"Would you like a receipt?" she asked after the transaction.
"Yes please." And a small amount of data was logged into a folder marked "banking" within his second-conscious.
"Have a nice day." she said cheerfully and he smiled.
"Thanks, you too."