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thunder of air escaping from ruptured compartments, the hissing conducted through the frame of the vessel. My compartment lurched to the side and my head slammed against the side of the couch.
    Somehow I felt the pain of the impact, even though such a thing should have been impossible with my android self….
    Blackness.
    Ralph Crocker
    After what seemed long enough for a glacier to race by, the mechocab finally came and whisked me away from the sporting goods store without further incident. But I couldn’t get the taxi to take me closer than a block from my apartment. It had received some updates about Snipe’s activities and apparently the cab’s circuits wouldn’t allow it to proceed any closer — which seemed odd since it had gone into Demon TTS territory to pick me up. Sometimes there’s just no telling for the logical insanity of AI circuitry.
    After paying the vehicle with my charge card — I was now down to a hundred creds after settling up with the vehicle and the sporting goods store owner — the cab’s doors unlocked so I could get out.
    “How’s it going?” I asked Quaker, the local gang’s toll taker as I stepped over to his plastic booth. His gang only took old coins since they didn’t want any chance of their transactions being traced; I fished a silver coin from a hidden pocket in my vest and tossed the quarter to him.
    “Everything’s cool,” Quaker said, taking the coin in his trembling hand for a moment as if savoring its feel before handing it back. “No charge today. Heard about your acing the head of the Demon TTSs.”
    “You what?”
    “Yeah. The store owner sold his security video to stations. You’re on the top ten chans at least. Big download. That store owner can retire. And you? Celebrity. Man, you better be ready to dive anytime you hear the clink clank of Harvies. They’re gonna be sorer than hell ‘bout what you done to their head man.”
    I tried to push the Harvies out of my thoughts for the moment to concentrate on the danger at hand. “Snipe still around?”
    “Maybe nappin’. But best be careful. She only bagged five so far today. Under quota.”
    “Thanks.” I rounded the corner and started toward my apartment, moving cautiously and hoping Snipe was asleep or, if awake, wouldn’t decide I was a prime target. She seldom fired at locals. But when she had a slow day, anything became fair game. Five kills wasn’t much for her, so it looked like it might be a slow day, meaning I could be fair game as far as she was concerned.
    I clinched my teeth as I crept along the street, sticking to the shadowed side of the avenue, planning to cross only when I neared my apartment. If nothing else, Snipe usually was a creature of habit, keeping the sun to her back so she’d be harder for victims to spot. My usual tactic was to stay out of sight in the shadows.
    Reaching the ancient theater across from my apartment, I stood in the shade for a few seconds, sizing up the area while screwing up my courage for a mad dash across the street.
    Still no sign of Snipe.
    Holding my breath, I sprinted across the narrow street, jumping over Snipe’s latest victim, a subvertiser who still had his compubrush in hand, handiwork half done on the wall of my apartment behind him.
    Snipe’s shot had been clean, right between the subvertiser’s eyes and out the back with a big chunk of scalp missing — without any damage to the ad display. Now the malcontent lay in the dark pool that had flowed from his wound. A syrupy way to go; but I found it hard to feel sorry for any subvertiser, especially one who’d obviously been defacing the ads that helped keep my rent low. After all, advertising pays the bills and subvertisers were the enemy, as far as I was concerned.
    Perhaps that was the reason the local gang and the rest of the hood never vigilanted Snipe. Sudden death on subvertisers, salesmen, and bill collectors in an area where the police were generally too afraid to enter helped keep the