Will pushed aside an unused dropcloth to set the satchel onto the desktop. He dug toward the bottom of the bag, pulling out a spare roller and a dog-eared booklet of paintchips, looking for the auxiliary 'trodenet he could use to ride along and watch Porky’s progress. Sewn into a blotched painter’s cap, the net gave no Matrix control, being less immediate than direct jacking. But a ’trodenet didn’t reduce his contact with the spiritworld the way an implant could. Before he found the cap. the medicine wheel in his head flashed before his eyes, a warning intrusion of scarlet arrows. The office door opened.