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'
Love
you
,
Cat
Mother
,
’
whispered
the
Panther
Modern
’
s
link
man
.
His
voice
was
modulated
static
in
Case
’
s
headset
.
'
Atlanta
,
Brood
.
Looks
go
.
Go
,
got
it
?
’
Molly
’
s
voice
was
slightly
clearer
.
'
To
hear
is
to
obey
.
’
The
Moderns
were
using
some
kind
of
chickenwire
dish
in
New
Jersey
to
bounce
the
link
man
’
s
scrambled
signal
off
a
Sons
of
Christ
the
King
satellite
in
geosynchronous
orbit
above
Manhattan
.
They
chose
to
regard
the
entire
operation
as
an
elaborate
private
joke
,
and
their
choice
of
comsats
seemed
to
have
been
deliberate
.
Molly
’
s
signals
were
being
beamed
up
from
a
one
-
meter
umbrella
dish
epoxy
-
ed
to
the
roof
of
a
black
glass
bank
tower
nearly
as
tall
as
the
Sense
/
Net
building
.
Atlanta
.
The
recognition
code
was
simple
.
Atlanta
to
Boston
to
Chicago
to
Denver
,
five
minutes
for
each
city
.
If
anyone
managed
to
intercept
Molly
’
s
signal
,
unscramble
it
,
synth
her
voice
,
the
code
would
tip
the
Moderns
.
If
she
remained
in
the
building
for
more
than
twenty
minutes
,
it
was
highly
unlikely
she
’
d
be
coming
out
at
all
.
Case
gulped
the
last
of
his
coffee
,
settled
the
trodes
in
place
,
and
scratched
his
chest
beneath
his
black
t
-
shirt
.
He
had
only
a
vague
idea
of
what
the
Panther
Moderns
planned
as
a
diversion
for
the
Sense
/
Net
security
people
.
His
job
was
to
make
sure
the
intrusion
program
he
’
d
written
would
link
with
the
Sense
/
Net
systems
when
Molly
needed
it
to
.
He
watched
the
countdown
in
the
corner
of
the
screen
.
Two
.
One
.
He
jacked
in
and
triggered
his
program
.
'
Mainline
,
’
breathed
the
link
man
,
his
voice
the
only
sound
as
Case
plunged
through
the
glowing
strata
of
Sense
/
Net
ice
.
Good
.
Check
Molly
.
He
hit
the
simstim
and
flipped
into
her
sensorium
.
The
scrambler
blurred
the
visual
input
slightly
.
She
stood
before
a
wall
of
gold
-
flecked
mirror
in
the
building
’
s
vast
white
lobby
,
chewing
gum
,
apparently
fascinated
by
her
own
reflection
.
Aside
from
the
huge
pair
of
sunglasses
concealing
her
mirrored
insets
,
she
managed
to
look
remarkably
like
she
belonged
there
,
another
tourist
girl
hoping
for
a
glimpse
of
Tally
Isham
.
She
wore
a
pink
plastic
raincoat
,
a
white
mesh
top
,
loose
white
pants
cut
in
a
style
that
had
been
fashionable
in
Tokyo
the
previous
year
.
She
grinned
vacantly
and
popped
her
gum
.
Case
felt
like
laughing
.
He
could
feel
the
micropore
tape
across
her
ribcage
,
feel
the
flat
little
units
under
it
:
the
radio
,
the
simstim
unit
,
and
the
scrambler
.
The
throat
mike
,
glued
to
her
neck
,
looked
as
much
as
possible
like
an
analgesic
dermadisk
.
Her
hands
,
in
the
pockets
of
the
pink
coat
,
were
flexing
systematically
through
a
series
of
tension
-
release
exercises
.
It
took
him
a
few
seconds
to
realize
that
the
peculiar
sensation
at
the
tips
of
her
fingers
was
caused
by
the
blades
as
they
were
partially
extruded
,
then
retracted
.
He
flipped
back
.
His
program
had
reached
the
fifth
gate
.
He
watched
as
his
icebreaker
strobed
and
shifted
in
front
of
him
,
only
faintly
aware
of
his
hands
playing
across
the
deck
,
making
minor
adjustments
.
Translucent
planes
of
color
shuffled
like
a
trick
deck
.
Take
a
card
,
he
thought
,
any
card
.
The
gate
blurred
past
.
He
laughed
.
