I felt the edge working in again. It had been hard to find, and I’d been walking the streets for hours trying to get it back. It was there, though, buried beneath the worry for my mother, the fear of Jarvis and the anticipation of the run. Unlike the last few nights, The streets were alive tonight. Gearing up for the weekend. Gangs and party-goers jostled the streets with the human rhythm.

I stopped to listen to a jazz trio play on a street corner, keeping my eyes on the lights of One Shell Square rising up above the sprawl. The trumpet player gave me an uneasy look after a while, so I moved on, waiting for the word.

We’d agreed to a minimum of communications. In a secure grid, there was no telling what might be picked up. I’ve heard that Corporations keep deckers on the roll to ghost their own systems, probing for weaknesses and the telltales of other hackers.

It’s a level of paranoia that I can really appreciate.

The tenth story windows went black, lit up. Went black, and lit up again.

It was time. Go.