 Why does Miss Casey's face flash red?
The golden Moon and the silver ship, symbols of greed. If a half dozen winos in Seattle hadn't helped me get them loose, Doc and I would have been wanted for the murder of a North American Mountie. "'Memory Jump,' you mean. All my great-grandfathers have it. I told the human no, thanks, and walked Doc toward the flophouse three doors down. It had happened a few times right after I first found him, but now it was worse. I was bent double, but I got from the floor to the chair and found my notebook and orb-point in my hands. I found I couldn't focus both my mind and my eyes through the electric flashes of agony, so I concentrated on Doc's voice and trusted my hands would follow their habit pattern and construct the symbols for his words. Oh, are ... see ...." Pain was a pendulum within me, swinging from low throbbing bass to high screaming tenor. She was pink and clean and her platinum hair was pulled straight back, drawing her cheek-bones tighter, straightening her wide, appealing mouth, drawing her lean, athletic, feminine body erect. She was wearing a powder-blue dress that covered all of her breasts and hips and the upper half of her legs. I don't know why, but nobody will help you if they think you are blotto. "Do you want it for coffee, or to apply, or a glass or hypo of something else?"
 Because of the neon lights.
 Because she is ready to kill Kevin.  Because she is  human.  Because she is furious.  Because of the neon lights.