On the ride over, I dictated my innocuous "get back to me quick" message into the chip in my secondary slot. So now I use a cylindrical carrier to extract the chip from the base of my skull, and slip it into the peripheral slot of the telecom. I display a directory of the chip’s contents, and make doubly sure that the file I’m going to upload to the telecom, and from there to UOL, is the right one—the innocuous message, not the report to the Star that would get me a bullet in the brain. Then I check it again. I know I’m tired, and I know that tired people make mistakes. A single wrong keystroke, and the wrong file goes shooting down the datapaths of the LTG and the Matrix. Yes, it’s the right file. I trigger the transfer.