At the back of the van was a woman with rigger jacks in her temple. 
"Morning," she said wearily, making her way up to the front of the Bulldog. As
the rigger took the driver’s seat and jacked in, Peter was surprised to see that
despite the van’s worn exterior, the controls were quite fancy. Settling back
into her seat, the rigger rested her hands on the wheel, even though she would 
not be using either the wheel or the gas pedal to move the van. Her thoughts 
would do all the work. The engine started up and the Bulldog took off for the 
Westside.