She could understand why, of course. For most deckers, death by ice was something that happened "off-stage." If you were the one that got geeked, you’d obviously not be around to tell about it. And if someone else got the chop-decking being a very solitary profession—you’d only hear about it long after the fact, when Joe Schmoe didn’t show up at his usual haunts anymore. To see it actually happening and to know you couldn’t do anything about it . . . Sly suppressed a shudder. She’d hardened herself to most of the ugly details of life and death in the Awakened world, but seeing the icon of another decker constricted in the tentacles of black ice would have shaken her up, too.