Zero History

When the elevator stopped again, and the door opened, Milgrim took the Neo from his
jacket pocket and tucked it into a sharkskin pocket on the front of the super-pram, feeling
it fall into the company of what he guessed were toys, tins of balm or perhaps caviar, or
whatever else one needed for an infant oligarch. Doing it, as a pickpocket had once
advised him, as if it were not only the expected but the only thing to do. He looked up at
the guard, whose eyes were still locked on the brunette. Who turned, then, gazelle-like
and justifiably bored, and stepped out, past the guard, as the pram-driver flicked the
brake switch off and dragged the thing back out of the elevator like a parts cart in a tank
factory.
The guard noticed Milgrim again, but stepped quickly out of the elevator, unwilling to
lose sight of his charges.
Milgrim remained where he was as the door closed and the elevator rose again.
“Dogs,” he said, to Sleight, who could no longer hear him. “Guards.”