His heart rolled right over, on its back, and kicked his lunch up with its red cartoon legs, galvanic frog-leg spasm hurling him from the chair and tearing the trodes from his forehead. His bladder let go when his head clipped the corner of the Hitachi, and someone was saying fuck fuck fuck into the dust smell of the carpet.…Then his head exploded. He saw it very clearly, from somewhere far away. Like a phosphorus grenade. White. Light.”

— William Gibson, Count Zero