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She pulled the neural lace from her temple and leaned back in her chair, heart thumping with pure, childlike joy. Her screen flickered. A message appeared in the corner.
Tonight’s slide was the firewall of Helix Bancorp, a shimmering wall of cerulean code that looked solid but had a rhythmic pulse—a heartbeat. Sasha, jacked in from her loft via a neural lace, didn't see a wall. She saw a rhythm game.
> Also, they think your tag is ‘tres chic.’
The digital playground was open all night. And Sasha Grey never wanted to go home.
