'What are you looking so pissed about?' Vogel had gotten up from his wingchair to switch off the film projector and relight the candles on the stand he'd brought into the private theater. The bright, empty rectangle disappeared from the screen. 'It wasn't that bad a movie.' 'It was okay, I guess.' Iris slumped down in the wingchair, still feeling annoyed with herself. 'But usually, I can call 'em better than that. I had a bet going with myself that Deckard would be iced by the end. And I lost.' 'So you did. I could've told you that Deckard's alive. Both in the movie and in reality. Real reality, that is.' Vogel fussed with the machine again, extracting the tail end of the film and winding it onto the take-up reel. 'He's not here in LA anymore, but he's alive. Just far, far away, is all.' Iris wasn't sure how she felt about that. She went on gazing at the screen on the wall, dark now, where the last images had been of Rick Deckard and the Rachael character, the replicant who had thought she was human, furtively extracting themselves from Deckard's apartment and getting into the building's elevator.
