Priss being unexpectedly literary. Though I don't think my English profs would have counted Neuromancer as literary, I certainly do.
Glimpse Beyond The Edge
Priss glared at her bookcase, listening to the sound of rain on her trailer's roof. Nene would have been shocked to know Priss had a bookcase, and even more shocked to know Priss actually read books. But references to Little Miss Cyberpunk did not form from nothing.
"The sky over the port was the color of a television, tuned to a dead channel." Priss mumbled. She mentally debated whether she was drunk enough, or sober enough, to be considering the confluence of fiction and reality. Probably neither. Probably needed to be drunk as a skunk and stone-cold sober both. At the same time, just to fuck with her.
A knock on get door drew her attention. Priss lived in rough part of town, which was why the inside of her trailer was lined with armor under the cheap faux-wood paneling and why she always kept a pistol close. It used to be just the pistol, and the pistol hadn't been as nice, but Knight Sabers money had changed that.
She opened her door. The gun was tucked behind it in a spot that wouldn't resist the anti-boomer bullets. Her visitor was a woman, and it took Priss a moment to recognize her as Linna, who was really slumming its in those clothes and had dirtied up her hair to fit in with the crowd here. "Damn, Linna, decided to move downtown?"
"Didn't feel like being memorable this trip. Or getting mugged. We need to talk." Linna replied.
"Yeah, we do." Priss' agreement was swift. "Since Sylia hasn't flayed you for that stunt you pulled." She opened the door enough to let Linna in. "Just toss the jacket anywhere," she ordered, while also tucking her pistol into her waistband.
"Nice strap." Priss observed. Linna was packing the same pistol she did.
"Then so's yours." Linna observed humorously. "You heard anything from our Glorious Leader?"
Priss shook her head. "The fuck's gotten into you, Linna? You were the good girl of the group."
"Let's just say I've been thinking about going pro." Linna replied. "This weekend warrior stuff isn't doing it for me anymore. But that's not why I'm here. I'm worried about Sylia."
"You ought to be. I'm pretty sure she'll kill you for-"
"Not like that. At this point I think she's either missed it or ignoring it. Besides, I'm not worried about Sylia killing me. I'm worried about Sylia killing us." Linna's tone was serious, but Priss wasn't sure whether it was meant seriously. Priss had a habit of stepping on Sylia's toes. She had a habit of stepping on everyone's toes. But she couldn't think of anything she'd done recently.
Finally, Priss ventured to speak. "What do you mean?"
"Sylia Stingray has invested pretty much her whole life in being Quincy's arch-nemesis." Linna observed neutrally. "It's her self-image. It's her pride and her one true joy. And now...she's not."
"Sylia's a big girl." Priss said softly. This was a dangerous road. She could sense it, even if she didn't know quite why.
"Priss...remember what she told us about the data tape?" Linna asked. "It was her father's insurance policy against his death, right? It rewired her brain, right?"
Priss stared in horror. "No. You're kidding."
"Priss, I didn't care before because she hadn't done anything that I thought was going to hurt the cause. You're in this for the bloody vengeance, and there are days where I am too. As long as Sylia was doing everything as right as she could, I wasn't worried. She'd rein us in. But now I'm stuck with the possibility she won't. Now I'm stuck with possibility she'll do something stupid." Linna shuddered. "It rewired her brain, Priss. Sylia's smart. She's canny. But she straight told us that. Does that sound like the Sylia Stingray you know? Brazen it out, hope no one notices? This would have occurred to one of us eventually and she should have know that. And if she knew that it wasn't smart of her to tell us."
"No." Priss wasn't sure if that was a specific or a general denial. And her voice sounded very small to her ears.
"Sylia just blithely telling us something that could mean she might not actually be able to use her brain in this. Sylia maybe molded into a personal instrument of vengeance by her father." Linna whispered. "Sylia didn't want to get into that fight, Priss. We both know that could have been the fight, the one that goes all the way. She didn't want it, and I don't know if she was keeping us out of the flying DU and tungsten because we couldn't take it...or because if that was the fight and Quincy got pitched out his window, it wouldn't be her doing. And even if the first was true, what if the second was working her subconscious to make her look for reasons?"
"Quincy's shriveled prick, I wish your brain didn't work as well as it does." Priss got up and retrieved a couple of beers. "You want one?"
"Yeah." Linna huddled around the cold beer and drained half it in one go, looking shaken. "This is scary stuff, Priss. I don't like thinking these thoughts. But it's not something I can take the risk on, you know? People I care about die if I decide this is too crazy to be true and I'm wrong."
"Shit, Linna. We'd be lucky if the dying stopped at people you cared about." Priss likewise downed half her beer in a single pull. "What do we do about it?"