The bar was little more than a counter jammed into an alley between a noodle bar and a booth selling bootleg simchips. The silver-eyed trog behind the counter had a set of snap-blades strapped to -his right forearm and a Remington Roomsweeper bolstered low on his left hip, He didn't take nothing but certified cred. The tequila he served was synthetic, lousy and cheap. So was the soykaf. For the price of a drink or a kaf, you got to elbow in between the other "clients" and stand there under the awning and watch and wait.