Neural Disruptor

She hesitated. From the half-open oak door at the far end of the passage came a voice, loud and slurred, like the voice of a drunk. Case thought the language might be French, but it was too indistinct. Molly took a step, another, her hand sliding into the suit to touch the butt of her fletcher. When she stepped into the neural disruptor’s field, her ears rang, a tiny rising tone that made Case think of the sound of her Fletcher. She pitched forward, her striated muscles slack, and struck the door with her forehead. She twisted and lay on her back, her eyes unfocused, breath gone.

“What’s this,” said the slurred voice, “fancy dress?” A trembling hand entered the front of her suit and found the fletcher, tugging it out. “Come visit, child. Now.”

She got up slowly, her eyes fixed on the muzzle of a black automatic pistol. The man’s hand was steady enough, now; the gun’s barrel seemed to be attached to her throat with a taut, invisible string.

***

Neuromancer ch 15