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"Now go down to the freight elevator and bring up the cases you find there." Armitage handed him the magnetic key. "Go on. You'll enjoy this, Case. Like Christmas morning."

Case felt as though his brain were jammed.

Afterimage of a single hair-fine line of red light. Seared concrete beneath the thin soles of his shoes.

Seven days and he'd jack in. If he closed his eyes now, he'd see the matrix.

He wondered briefly what it would be like, working all your life for one zaibatsu. Company housing, company hymn, company funeral.

The holograms were ten-power magnifications;

Reflected colors flowed across Molly's lenses

No sound but the muted purring of the blowers and the amplified breathing of the fighters.

The air was damp and close with the smell of sweat and concrete.

Eat a dozen. Nothing'll happen."
He did. Nothing did.

"Why I'm doing you the favor."

"Bitch," he said to the rose tint over Shiga. Down on Ninsei the holograms were vanishing like ghosts, and most of the neon was already cold and dead. He sipped thick black coffee from a street vendor's foam thimble and watched the sun come up.

Case felt the weight of the night come down on him like a bag of wet sand settling behind his eyes.

Wage wore a suit of gunmetal silk and a simple bracelet of platinum on either wrist.

Ratz's mouth narrowed, compressed into a single line.

"Iffy," he said, "it's all looking very iffy tonight."

Glint of silver across the eyes.

His tail was back. He was sure of it. He felt a stab of elation, the octagons and adrenaline mingling with something else. You're enjoying this, he thought; you're crazy.

The thing felt like it might clatter to the pavement with his next step, but it made him feel better.

Beyond the neon shudder of Ninsei, the sky was that mean shade of gray.