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"
Fair
enough
.
"
I
looked
after
the
retreating
figure
of
the
dealer
.
"
Would
you
really
have
shot
him
?
"
"
Nah
.
"
Ortega
grinned
.
"
But
he
doesn
’
t
know
that
.
ConSub
do
it
sometimes
,
just
to
get
major
dealers
off
the
street
when
there
’
s
something
big
going
down
.
Official
reprimand
for
the
officer
involved
and
compensation
pays
out
for
a
new
sleeve
,
but
it
takes
time
,
and
the
scumbag
does
that
time
in
the
store
.
Plus
it
hurts
to
get
shot
.
I
was
convincing
,
huh
?
"
"
Convinced
the
fuck
out
of
me
.
"
"
Maybe
I
should
have
been
an
Envoy
.
"
I
shook
my
head
.
"
Maybe
you
should
spend
less
time
around
me
.
"
I
stared
up
at
the
ceiling
,
waiting
for
the
hypnophone
sonocodes
to
lull
me
away
from
reality
.
On
either
side
of
me
,
Davidson
,
the
Organic
Damage
datarat
,
and
Ortega
had
settled
into
their
racks
and
even
through
the
hypnophones
I
could
hear
their
breathing
,
slow
and
regular
,
at
the
limits
of
my
neurachem
perception
.
I
tried
to
relax
more
,
to
let
the
hypnosystem
press
me
down
through
levels
of
softly
decreasing
consciousness
,
but
instead
my
mind
was
whirring
through
the
details
of
the
set
-
up
like
a
program
check
scanning
for
error
.
It
was
like
the
insomnia
I
’
d
suffered
after
Innenin
,
an
infuriating
synaptic
itch
that
refused
to
go
away
.
When
my
peripheral
vision
time
display
told
me
that
at
least
a
full
minute
had
gone
by
,
I
propped
myself
up
on
one
elbow
and
looked
around
at
the
figures
dreaming
in
the
other
racks
.
"
Is
there
a
problem
?
"
I
asked
loudly
.
"
The
tracking
of
Sheryl
Bostock
is
complete
,
"
said
the
hotel
.
"
I
assumed
you
would
prefer
to
be
alone
when
I
informed
you
.
"
I
sat
upright
and
started
picking
the
trodes
off
my
body
.
"
You
assumed
right
.
You
sure
everyone
else
is
under
?
"
