And, for an instant, she stared directly into those soft blue eyes and knew, with an instinctive mammalian certainty, that the exceedingly rich were no longer even remotely human. The box was a universe, a poem, frozen on the boundaries of human experience. The plane was quivering, a live thing, and as he squirmed deeper into his own web, he fumbled for the interface cable, found it, ripped the microsoft from his socket, and slid the cable-jack home. The g-web ballooned around him, locking his limbs rigid, the gun still in his hand. But the jet already knew, and g-force crushed him down into the dark.
Bit too log for a .sig though.