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struggle to suppress her annoyance.
    Father John seemed intent tonight on irking her or on afflicting her with guilt. Of course he could count on her in the future. She'd been working with Ground Wave for more than a year. Piper had more experience with anticorporate activity than anybody in the group. Unfortunately, she was used to this kind of talk. Used to people speaking presumptuously and rudely. Used to people with immensely egocentric personalities.
    People with the viewpoint that whatever happened to be right for them must be right for everyone. She attended frequent cha-no-yu, the tea ceremony, if only to remind herself that some people, anyway, were at least basically civilized.
    "Dozo, gomen kudasai," Piper said, excusing herself, bowing and forming the Globe. "I must go now, Father. Good evening."
    Father John bowed and formed the Globe. "Good night."
    The street outside was busy. A veritable river of people flowed steadily along the sidewalk. Traffic filled the narrow roadway, barely moving at a crawl. Garish neon and laser adverts in Japanese and a dozen other Asian languages climbed the fronts of buildings as high as nine or ten stories. Piper made her way up the block and joined the crowd waiting at the corner with Custer Avenue.
    Abruptly, a man wearing the signature red and black suit jacket of the Honjowara yakuza stepped off the curb and into the road, blowing a shrill blast on a whistle while extending his arms out fully to both sides.
    Traffic halted. Piper moved with the crowd that flowed out and across the street. A number of people loudly praised the Honjowara- gumi as they passed the man in the red and black jacket.
    "Domo arigato," the man said politely, bowing in response to each laudatory remark.
    Yakuza, Piper knew, might be vicious gangsters, but they were also very conscious of their public image. The Honjowara- gumi had made this part of Sector 6, Little Asia, centered around Bergen Street, one of the safest hoods in the plex. They performed many public services and would allow no one to abuse their citizens. Gangs and other criminal elements entered the district at their peril.
    Piper continued up the next block toward Hawthorne, but only as far as the intricately carved synthwood door of the Holy Savior Buddhist temple.
    As she turned toward that door, another man in red and black abruptly stepped up beside her, tugged the door open for her, and bowed, saying, "Dozo ... Allow me..."
    Piper bowed to the man. "Domo arigato gozaimasu." As she stepped through, the man slipped past her, tugged the inner door open, and bowed, saying, "Dozo."
    "Domo arigato." Piper bowed and stepped inside. An acolyte of the temple escorted her to a small chamber where a Buddhist priest waited. For a donation of ten nuyen, the priest led her in a brief prayer ritual and then gave her a quick lecture on the Buddha nature as exemplified by Christ, a lecture she did not really want to hear but felt obligated to endure. She had trouble with Buddhist teachings, even those of the fairly innovative sects of the Newark metroplex. She didn't really believe in any mystical enlightenment-that was her problem. Most people she had encountered in her life seemed all but oblivious to even the most basic truths of their everyday routine. To suppose that even a major event like death would shock them into some form of "enlightened" consciousness required a leap of faith that was beyond her. Still, this was a part of the sorrow of existence. The teachings of Buddhism and the Whole Earth Church had much in common, most notably the emphases on the cyclical nature of life. Piper felt obliged to seek her own enlightenment even if she did not entirely believe in the concept. Perhaps belief could not truly come until enlightenment was achieved.
    When the lecture ended, she went back outside, then through the sliding transparex doors into the Shinto shrine next door. This visit cost her twenty nuyen. Shinto priests were very worldly and