Whipping moves on keyboards faster than you could follow and that was when something happened to get him totally wired, and that didn’t happen often. He had nights when the bugs were at the neon and the air smelled of perfume and fast food. Scanned faces as they passed, looking for the wild card in the private tarot, a new one, anxious for a sign, someone to tell him what his new life would be like. Not very different. More comfortable. Always waiting for that next card to fall. (WG, Burning Chrome)