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The boy did a handstand in the surf, laughing. He walked on his hands, then
flipped out of the water. His eyes were Riviera's, but there was no malice
there. 'To call up a demon you must learn its name. Men dreamed that, once,
but now it is real in another way. You know that. Your business is to learn
the names of programs, the long formal names, names the owners seek to conceal.
True names...'

'Neuromancer,' the boy said, slitting long gray eyes against the rising sun.
'The lane to the land of the dead. Where you are, my friend. Marie-France, my
lady, she prepared this road, but her lord choked her off before I could read
the book of her days. Neuro from the nerves, the silver paths. Romancer.
Necromancer. I call up the dead. But no, my friend' and the boy did a little
dance, brown feet printing the sand, 'I am the dead, and their land.' He
laughed. A gull cried. 'Stay. If your woman is a ghost, she doesn't know it.
Neither will you.'

You notice her out of the corner of your eye
nonchalantly sweeping her gaze over her surroundings, her chin resting
lazily in the palm of her hand. She is clad in the bright steel armor
of a knight. Her helmet sits beside her, a long sword lays at her feet
encased in its metal sheath, and a long green cloak drapes across her
back. She looks over to you, sits up somewhat, and waves at you like an
old friend as a warm smile spreads across her face. Sunlight filters
through the trees above, dancing off her green eyes and making them
sparkle. Her lovely face is lightly painted by the sun, a light tan
color, and is surrounded by a long silky mass of sable brown hair. You
really can't help but smile back. Seemingly content with your response,
she nods at you and once again turns away.

Before you stands a dark scaled dragon hatchling.
He has long and slender proportions even for a hatchling.