Drek! Name. She’d have to use another name. The Johnson didn’t know what her meat body looked like any more than she did the Johnson’s, but the biff might know her name. She flapped her chrome wings in annoyance. It would be easy enough to change her physical appearance—some bleach for her hair and contact lenses, and she could probably pass for a deeply tanned European instead of the light-skinned Amerind that she was. Null perspiration. What she didn’t want to change was her icon; all her program chips and utilities were set to recognize it. Take days to correct the software. Then again, did she need too? There were lots of bird icons on the grid, so how about changing her name to Talon or Raptor or Falcon? No, something more common, innocuous. Go slow, stay low. Let the target come to you. Hmm, what about Silver? Yeah, perfect, nice and bland. That would do fine.