None of her chums back in Miami liked either the Johnson or the job. It was 
she who talked them into it. The Johnson’s offer of the Fuchi-6 as part payment
must have blinded her to everything else. Until then she’d been creeping along
with a Sony CTY-360 rebuilt so many times the internals looked like spaghetti, a silicon mishmash that almost no 
one could figure out, much less repair. With a Fuchi-6, she figured she’d slice
through the Matrix like lightning—and she did, only that didn’t help her buds.