Automatically, Motoko booted up her projection software, and ended up promptly being forced to dodge backwards as a seemingly random laser cut it's way across her would-be path. Never ask her what would happen tomorrow unless you wanted a longwinded philosophy lesson, but if you asked this cyborg what would happen in the next millisecond, she'd never be wrong.

'Get clear!' Owen's warning rang out, and Motoko snatched a glance— ah. The processors whirled their little dance of numbers at lightning speed, plotting the arc of the blades. She wasn't in the path of danger— not from that direction, anyway.