In her hands now are the terminals for the Witness interface, the primary tools of her trade. As always, they strike her as very male, very sexualised. Each one is around ten centimetres long, grey-black, with a silver half-dome at one end. She unbuttons her shirt. The left terminal monitors her own vital signs, and goes against the chest, over the heart. The right one she will place against her temple. There are various reasons for this design, but she believes that in the end they are made this way so that an Inspector at work resembles however distantly the protagonist of a black-and-white crime flick using a two-part telephone.