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“A smile played around Aomame's straight lips. People were focused on her actions. No one was surprised to see her pull a gun out of her bag-- or at least they did not show surprise on their faces. Maybe they didn't believe it was a real gun. 'It is, though,' Aomame told them mentally. Next she turned the gun upward and thrust the muzzle into her mouth. Now it was aimed directly at her cerebrum-- the gray labyrinth where consciousness resided.” — Haruki Murakami
A smile played around Aomame's straight lips. People were focused on her actions. No one was surprised to see her pull a gun out of her bag-- or at least they did not show surprise on their faces. Maybe they didn't believe it was a real gun. 'It is, though,' Aomame told them mentally. Next she turned the gun upward and thrust the muzzle into her mouth. Now it was aimed directly at her cerebrum-- the gray labyrinth where consciousness resided.