And here they are, he and Minx, flying through the streets of Sector 10, the cramped, dingy, crud-encrusted commercial part of the Newark plex called the Stacks. Warehouses and factories rush by. Big rigs roar, air horns blatting. Corners swerve past. Null sheen, no persp. No chance of him wetting his shorts. The van veers through a slalom course of cars and cycles stopped all over the street, up on the sidewalks, some lying on their roofs, and comes to a sudden halt. No problemo, omae.