“Got it, boss,” Wally’s voice said, the construct himself in his minimized form of the tumbling orange ring at the bottom left of her sight. “Done. Loaded for bear and cooking with gas.”
Xyl triggered her chrono display. It was just past dawn, 6:20 AM. She glanced toward the opaqued window, but it showed only blackened glass. One dim diode light on the room’s commsignal booster gave a very feeble blue glow, barely illuminating the room enough to see the walls. The time of day didn’t matter; she was sure the Walking Dead had hundreds, possibly thousands, of Runners and Aivatars on the Net at any given time. Not to mention the vast majority of normal people, kids, CorpRunners, college students, the potential billions who used their connections to the Net for things not even remotely crimina
