The bars of the cage are black and sizzling with code-red security IC. 
Sizzling too are the chains and manacles that seize the golden angel’s wrists
and ankles and tug her spread-eagled up off the floor. The whole node takes on a 
reddish hue as the color encompasses her icon. It feels like a swarm of little 
bugs with creepy-crawler legs are skittering all over her meat body somewhere a 
billion klicks away to her rear. The feeling makes her squirm. The virtual 
effects may be red but the ice is pure black, the blackest. It’s a virtual trap
with electron teeth. Kidd Karney has been known to brain-fry the occasional 
corporate decker who finds the datapath to his tent. There’s nothing to do now
but wait, wait and twitch.