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"
So
what
happened
?
"
Ortega
shrugged
in
her
steel
lattice
seat
.
"
Economic
crisis
.
You
know
how
it
is
.
One
day
you
own
a
house
,
your
sleeve
policy
’
s
paid
up
,
the
next
you
’
re
on
the
street
looking
at
a
single
lifespan
.
"
"
That
’
s
tough
.
"
"
Yeah
,
isn
’
t
it
,
"
said
the
detective
dismissively
.
"
Kovacs
,
what
the
fuck
were
you
doing
at
Jerry
’
s
?
"
"
Getting
an
itch
scratched
,
"
I
growled
.
"
Any
laws
against
it
?
"
She
looked
at
me
.
"
You
weren
’
t
getting
greased
in
Jerry
’
s
.
You
were
barely
in
there
ten
minutes
.
"
I
lifted
my
own
shoulders
and
made
an
apologetic
face
.
"
You
ever
been
downloaded
into
a
male
body
straight
out
of
the
tank
,
you
’
ll
know
what
it
’
s
like
.
Hormones
.
Things
get
rushed
.
Places
like
Jerry
’
s
,
performance
isn
’
t
an
issue
.
"
Ortega
’
s
lips
curved
in
something
approximating
a
smile
.
She
leaned
forward
across
the
space
between
us
.
"
Bullshit
,
Kovacs
.
Bull
.
Shit
.
I
accessed
what
they
’
ve
got
on
you
at
Millsport
.
Psychological
profile
.
They
call
it
the
Kemmerich
gradient
,
and
yours
is
so
steep
you
’
d
need
pitons
and
rope
to
get
up
it
.
Everything
you
do
,
performance
is
going
to
be
an
issue
.
"
