Rinzler's glare doesn't stop. The ticking growl doesn't reduce in the least. If he had his disk, it would be in his hand and lit—if not thrown already. He doesn't have it; the users took it away, and he's been half-crashing out of fear of what they'll do. But apparently this program doesn't need that access point to pry through Rinzler's code.

If he were less on edge, its conclusion would be laughable. As things stand, the black mask only twitches sharply, mute rejoinder. Yes, he's damaged. So what?