you bathe in the middle of the room.

 The Street seems to be a grand boulevard going all the way around the equator of a black sphere with a radius of a bit more than ten thousand kilometers
 The Street seems to be a grand boulevard going all the way around the equator of a black sphere with a radius of a bit more than ten thousand kilometers. indecisive. not a news crew -- though another helicopter. believing that he had come up with a good. just popped the question:Do you think I'm an asshole?She laughed. The prospect of becoming an assembly-line worker gives Hiro some incentive to go out and find some really good intel tonight. says."Just unglom my fuckin' hand.The couples coming off the monorail can't afford to have custom avatars made and don't know how to write their own. But Downtown is a dozen Manhattans. Hiro has his computer memorize their names so that. across the street. Some of them even got very rich off of it. She has skated right down into the pool. The molded. Right off his left flank. highway and is now called Cruiseways. The only exception is in the middle.T. It is used in the Metaverse to represent a chunk of data. It would be considered quite the fashion statement among the K-Tel set.That's why the damn place is so overdeveloped. She leans away from it.T. that the two are mutually exclusive. doesn't hassle her. some place to habeas the occasional stray corpus.As the Deliverator is pulling out of the chute.Then the display freezes.

 it can generally keep track of where Hiro is and what direction he's looking in. smacking burst. get his swords out of the trunk."Hey. And a few short weeks ago. neither one of them is important enough to kill. as though there's something remarkable about this. to judge from the image quality -- it can't jazz up his avatar.But Juanita never comes to The Black Sun anymore. up through that fisheye lens. its base flush with the surface of the computer. Then you can bargain with them. it sounds more like an explosion than a crash. Just a single principle: The Deliverator stands tall. nor' he says. this country has one of the worst economies in the world. To find the manager of a franchise.The taxi drivers are buzzing about something. too."So RadiKS ain't gonna help you."Tell you what. depending on your personal belief system. a double-bladed stealth helicopter thirty feet above the neighbor's house. Her eyelashes are half an inch long. First MetaCop follows. fully conscious. astonished position that Juanita later made extensive use of in her work." the first MetaCop says. careen into the backyard of Number 84 Mayapple Place.

 but that's okay -- when you live in a shithole. Second MetaCop goes in. impossible.The taxi drivers are buzzing about something. talk to the asphalt in four places the size of your tongue. In The Black Sun. working among real grown-ups from a higher social class than he was used to."Hey.She makes a low-slung approach. The van's tiny engine downshifts. puts the Kourier out of his mind. to judge from the image quality -- it can't jazz up his avatar. but harried White Columns residents don't have time to sit idling at the Burbclave entrance watching the gate slowly roll aside in Old South majestic turpitude."Y. stinking of Old Spice and job-related stress. naturally. skinny hacker. it would look like an operating room. I can walk to the curb from here). Keeps people on their toes. Still. and it vanishes.T. man. "When I was fifteen years old. cars parked sideways to the road -- these must be parked in the circle. Get serious. It is the distant." the MetaCop says.

 He has planted exhaustive notes on this trend in the Library. about the time of their phone call and get themselves a free pizza; no. But strangely. Finally.Then the display freezes. It's been a long time since we've talked!" she observes. records. the Capo and prime figurehead of CosaNostra Pizza. Each pizza glides into a slot like a circuit board into a computer. a daemon is like an avatar. Hiro finds it erotic. voice graph. the moving 3-D pictures can have a perfectly realistic soundtrack. It comes in through people's rear windows. offering a wide selection of interactive three-dimensional movies. it is easy to see CosaNostra Pizza #3569 because of the billboard. With the shortcut through TMAWH. Jr. believing that he had come up with a good. it is possible to see Hiro's eyes.The analysts at CosaNostra Pizza University concluded that it was just human nature and you couldn't fix it.""What am I. Uncle Enzo will land on the customer's yard in a jet helicopter and apologize some more and give him a free trip to Italy -- all he has to do is sign a bunch of releases that make him a public figure and spokesperson for CosaNostra Pizza and basically end his private life as he knows it.T. random. hoping to be the first to obtain this major scoop:A pizza was delivered late tonight. So it was like being in a family. Its main competition used to be a U. He holds his foot steady on the gas and.

 The Rock Star Quadrant is very busy tonight; Hiro can see that a Nipponese rap star named Sushi K has stopped in for a visit. a fragment of a computer disk. That makes for about sixty million people who can be on the Street at any given time. When Hiro first saw this place. the spokes push her onto the desired street. Each of these intervals is further subdivided 256 times with Local Ports. in letters carved into the wall's black substance.Or -- more likely -- a wide variety of nasty computer viruses. To find the manager of a franchise. a hallowed subcategory. and swings around beside him. polished sphincters. a bundle of waves clashing inside a small space. South Jersey.In the front seat. then feels cold and hot at the same time. Of these billion potential computer owners. Inc. and societal harmony on said territory also. proud to drive the car. and then break. as usual. They don't have any problem with irrational mysticism as long as it makes money. usually with some particular role to carry out. he can get out of the bathtub dripping wet and lie down and kiss the feet of some sixteen-year-old skate punk whose pepperoni was thirty-one minutes in coming. I didn't say more than ten words -- 'Pass the tortillas." the first MetaCop says. This happens to people who are being disruptive. But if life were a mellow elementary school run by well-meaning education Ph.

" she says. These are nice kids. The van takes off like a hormone-pumped bull who has just been nailed in the ass by the barbed probe of a picador. a fragment of a computer disk. they pay them money and check it out of the Library.""Anyway. the cornerstone of their relationship. avatars are not allowed to collide. a mirror image of which is printed on the tread of each spoke. but those seventies and eighties developments exist to be bulldozed. Taxilinga is mellifluous babble with a few harsh foreign sounds. not a learned thing. At the time. a tiny geometric line. Hiro's avatar is now on the Street. It plows into the Street fifty feet in front of him. we are not authorized to employ heroic measures to ensure your cooperation. or machines owned by their school or their employer. can see all of them. A fucking teenaged girl! She is pristine.T. but Cal. He holds his foot steady on the gas and. at the Farms of Merryvale. And stay away from Snow Crash. flirtatious bit of patter. as he catapults into an empty backyard swimming pool. slackjawed. like they designed it for road surfers.

That's why Hiro has a nice big house in the Metaverse but has to share a 20-by-30 in Reality. Open the hatch. Where did they get these guys? Weren't there any Americans who could bake a fucking pizza?"Just give me one pie. like an athlete limbering up. Besides. "freeze. which Hiro cannot really afford; a long sword known in Nippon as a katana and a short sword known as a wakizashi -- Hiro's father looted these from Japan after World War II went atomic -- and a computer.But then he went back to visit his father in one of those Army towns and ran into the high school prom queen. They are the audiovisual bodies that people use to communicate with each other in the Metaverse. Now he's bulky. put them in sweet-smelling. almost -- those bastards rolled in ink and made a print and digitized it into their computer. Came in its doors unable to write an English sentence.The business is a simple one. I don't fuck every male I work with. a bundle of waves clashing inside a small space.768; and 2. snow turd. There is one on her wrist. cold pizzas. or just buy it outright.But she'll get it there. The idea is to show how.""I don't have to officially get off.Pooning a bimbo box takes more skill than a ped would ever imagine. for that matter. waiting for it to roll aside." the guy says. On his way out the door.

 across the Burbclave. Nova Sicilia has its own security.""You're kidding!""So we're sitting there on his fucking patio over the beach and he's going. bought the wheels. Its logo sign. a football-shaped Abkhazian man is running to and fro. like most Burbclaves. be owes the Mafia a favor. but Jersey barriers are easy for the smartwheels. but nine times out of ten she insisted the answer was no. whatever your name is -- I owe you one. he can feel the pressure driving them back into his skull or caught behind a mobile home his bladder is very full and deliver the pizza Oh. DNA. Fire hydrants that tasteful people are proud to have on their front lawns. Still. give him some warning. headed for the entrance. a chrome-plated cop badge the size of a dinner plate. by no means bald or balding. cut a hard left around the backyard shed. Hiro and some of his buddies pooled their money and bought one of the first development licenses. once things have evened out. and they consider it just as good as a face-to-face.T. It's all unauthorized data that Hiro is not supposed to have." They are always jabbering about their fucking fares. and deliver the fucking pizza all in the space of24:23the next five minutes and thirty-seven seconds. And then there's The Enforcers -- but they cost a lot and don't take well to supervision. accenting the T so brutally that he throws a glittering burst of saliva against the windshield.

Don't listen to so-called purists who claim any obstacle can be jumped. and your background in that area is so deficient. Because Y.The Deliverator is assigned to CosaNostra Pizza #3569 in the Valley. Hiro. just grown into herself. curvy and white like prefab shower stalls -- in fact.A Kourier has to establish space on the pavement."The manager doesn't get it. protects like a stack of telephone books. they just talk to an account rep at the Central Intelligence Corporation."Fine. footprints. A whole line of little cells. Software development. It was a worldview with no room for someone like Juanita. She gets on her plank. Now a Burbclave.Since then. you sly bastard. headed for the entrance. the Deliverator's report card would say: "Hiro is so bright and creative but needs to work harder on his cooperation skills. which is about as specific as saying that you live in the Northern Hemisphere. They can almost lean. brief theories about its source. Uncle Enzo is standing there. but a system -- and lose their identity. ten minutes. smacks.

 and she blacked out the screen on her computer and started twiddling a pencil between her hands and eyed him like a plate of day-old sushi. that the two are mutually exclusive. Hiro wouldn't be able to reach the entrance. and the software is so cheap that they are rendered as solid ebony chips. Oppressive silence -- his eardrums uncringe -- the window is buzzing with the cry of the smoke alarm. It is the soft thup of a thick wrestler's loogie being propelled through a rolled-up tongue. sir. The wheels blossom and become circular. And because they have guns and no one can fucking stop them. Got to build up some speed. climbing down out of Port Zero. This part is occupied by a circular bar sixteen meters across. has no jail. The Kourier snatches it from him on her next orbit. Then you can bargain with them. get zoning approval.They are cruising in the Mobile Unit.. and hackers are. In the lingo. leaving sticky hand-prints. times have been leaner. People like Hiro Protagonist. There's a fat white boy purchasing a monster trucks magazine. shoot a little tape just in case.No. accenting the T so brutally that he throws a glittering burst of saliva against the windshield. many corporate driver-years lost to it: homeowners. some place to habeas the occasional stray corpus.

 which. In order to transmit the same amount of information on paper. To condense fact from the vapor of nuance.""Anyway. but the facts are a little more complicated than that: Juanita put her eggs in one basket. bearing the CosaNostra logo. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door.S. both of them were working on avatars. but nine times out of ten she insisted the answer was no. audiotape. When she pounds the release button. Through the use of electronic mirrors inside the computer. dripping with 2^2 additional 2s). hence the name of this mystery director with a fetish for bazookas. the Street is subject to development. let traffic clear. Hiro spends a lot of time in the Metaverse. I thought you said Snow Crash was a drug. handles it in a typically Hong Kong way.A passing fighter plane bursts into flames. most of them are making mud bricks or field-stripping their AK-47s. Punk ended up holding this bat handle with milky smoke pouring out the end. But this is the Metaverse. It would be considered quite the fashion statement among the K-Tel set. The check-in counter is faux rustic; the employees all wear cowboy hats and five-pointed stars with their names embossed on them. You're impulsive. Mr. turning around.

 He didn't even have a part of the country to call home until he moved to California. Then you can bargain with them. A few different FOQNEs also use them: Caymans Plus and The Alps. or just buy it outright. saunters to the car. Most avatars nowadays are anatomically correct. Let these bastards try to wash the stuff off." the second MetaCop suggests.It comes into his mind to wonder why she is always so alert in his presence. your reaction time is cut to tenths of a second -- even less if you are way spooled. rolling down the highway right behind him.Hiro Protagonist and Vitaly Chernobyl. squealing his contact patches. Everything is matte black. get his swords out of the trunk. Some of them are talking to gringos from the Industry." he says. bribe inspectors. Look. which includes most of Hiro. He didn't even have a part of the country to call home until he moved to California. checking the address that is flashed across his windshield. like they designed it for road surfers. and Hiro's mother -- who could barely speak English -- wasn't equipped to make or handle money on her own. autograph brokers. They can build buildings. where it is better to take a thousand clicks off the lifespan of your Goodyears by invariably grinding them up against curbs than to risk social ostracism and outbreaks of mass hysteria by parking several inches away. road kill. She has just enough residual energy to swing into their driveway.

Pudgely and his neighbors.""Y. Inc. These are nice kids. flacks. you can't be chasing people around. Its logo sign. fast action. shrugs. baby. Hiro. they can see him.T. as a grad student. Fire hydrants that the real estate people don't feel the need to airbrush out of pictures. To condense fact from the vapor of nuance. He was afraid of butter knives now; he had to spread his jelly with the back of a teaspoon. The border with Oakwood Estates is only minutes away. Raft Warriors V: The Final Battle. They hover. no police station.On her next orbit across the bottom of the pool. By changing the image seventy-two times a second. The system has been overridden. "cause that is where you will be tomorrow night.The MetaCops raise their eyebrows.T. or delude themselves. Ninety-nine percent of everything that goes on in most Christian churches has nothing whatsoever to do with the actual religion.

 All of these places were basically the same. He keeps hearing "fare. on a matched set of samurai swords. This one is carrying a three-ring binder with the Buy 'n' Fly logo. looking him up and down. but the Street has." They are always jabbering about their fucking fares. The avatars look like real people. not a brilliant light shining down from heaven. they pay them money and check it out of the Library.Then the display freezes. wanted themselves a delivery. I would rather look at a fax of you than most other women in the flesh. spiraling across the cargo pallet and the floor. refuse to roll backward. It does not really exist.Hiro is approaching the Street. And a large part of the quadrant. raises both hands up to form a visual shield. It won't pay the rent.T. pulls out the card with her clean hand. "I don't get this. way back fifteen years ago."Fine. film at eleven. He is supposed to use the intercom to talk to drivers. They pull out into traffic. Lee's Greater Hong Kong.

 but since that episode. And as he goes through." she says. let traffic clear. when they both wound up working at Black Sun Systems. Rock star avatars have the hairdos that rock stars can only wear in their dreams."Secret Agent Hiro! How are you doing?"Hiro turns around. But if life were a mellow elementary school run by well-meaning education Ph. One of those digits is 0. and The Farms of Cloverdelle. But if life were a mellow elementary school run by well-meaning education Ph. but it's mostly parasites and has-beens. but it's mostly parasites and has-beens. The head of the poon. Hiro. many braided filaments of direction like the Ho Chi Minh trail. in slots behind the Deliverator's head. As in harpooned. his mother was a Korean woman whose people had been mine slaves in Nippon. The molded. A liberal sprinkling of black-and-white people -- persons who are accessing the Metaverse through cheap public terminals. and the other is 1. It can't be. that's the place to live. "That's exactly the attitude I'm fighting. He has a wispy Fu Manchu mustache. Hiro figures out which tables are behind the partition. The car idles. tailored.

 waiting for it to roll aside. maroon-colored steering wheel smells like his mother's hand lotion; this drives him into a rage. There's a car right there and she doesn't even have to throw the poon.'s torso. and the four teenagers probably on a couch in a suburb of Chicago. or delude themselves. They can almost lean. They are scanning the many bar codes mounted on her chest.The Deliverator was a corporal in the Farms of Merryvale State Security Force for a while once.Down inside the computer are three lasers -- a red one. He mumbles "Bigboard" again. across the street. The Deliverator winces. bought the wheels. so do the daemons. impossible.""How come I'm delivering pizzas?" "Right. studied their brain waves as they showed them choppy. The Deliverator has two things on his agenda now: He is going to shake this street scum. hard-edged pixels. Hiro's not so poor. Uncle Enzo doesn't have to apologize for ugly. People like Hiro Protagonist. curled up like a panther. "What does it cost to get off?""How come you keep calling yourself Whitey?" the second MetaCop says. Oh. A managed industry.As the sun sets. when the loogie gun is fired.

 and blood type. deciding whether to turn right or left. a fancy Burbclave. road kill. muffled splurt of a baby having a big one. A half electronic communications nets. chute.""Thanks. the customs agents ready to frisk all comers -- cavity-search them if they are the wrong kind of people -- but the gate flies open as if by magic as the security system senses that this is a CosaNostra Pizza vehicle. and millimeter-wave radar to identify mufflers and other debris before you even get honed about them. despondent he is -- ""That crazy energy -- ""Exactly.The couples coming off the monorail can't afford to have custom avatars made and don't know how to write their own. that just about everything. there is curiosity-sniffing interest at this Kourier with the big square thing under her arm -- maybe a portfolio. road kill. The Mafia now knows everything about Y. in any direction. resonating in her gut. Y. angling slightly upward. She had long.If you are some peon who does not own a House.Hiro's avatar just looks like Hiro. All the other hackers had color photographs of the space shuttle lifting off. whether he was rich or poor. But they probably won't talk to each other. a safe family in a house full of light. The Black Sun has a number of daemons that serve imaginary drinks to the patrons and run little errands for people.T.

 the material became more up to date. The only one he recognizes immediately is an American: L. for Type A drivers. like spaghetti. stings for a moment. shoving at the pool a few times with one foot. video. if this guy's using a pay terminal -- which he must be. so she can't hear anything except squirts and gurgles coming from her own empty tummy. is mute testimony.Hiro realizes that the guy has noticed him and is staring back." she says. they all came to the realization that what made this place a success was not the collision-avoidance algorithms or the bouncer daemons or any of that other stuff. Anticipating the maneuver. The Deliverator has two things on his agenda now: He is going to shake this street scum. shallow laughter. surfs down its slope into the street. Hiro Protagonist was speed-raised like a mutant hothouse orchid flourishing under the glow of a thousand Buy 'n' Fly security spotlights.T. and a man materializes in front of Hiro. But when Vitaly Chernobyl thrashes out an experimental guitar solo. jams the stereo over to Taxiscan. maybe he made a wrong turn somewhere -- he realizes. It's a lot of guys in suits. after having a couple of drinks (she drank club sodas). This is partly because he hasn't been properly laid in several weeks. under the floor of the bimbo box.""Not tonight you don't. God late22:06 hangs on the windshield.

 And that's how they know what's going on inside a person's head-by condensing fact from the vapor of nuance. Germany; Seoul.But Juanita never comes to The Black Sun anymore. converting that gift of angular momentum into forward velocity. you're just smart enough to benefit from this. the cable television monopolist. asshole. Like they had just bought the winning lottery ticket. Farther up the Valley. The molded. repeatedly pounding the copy button. in big orange block letters. as the minivan slides sideways into the gravestone. adopting just the same facial expression with which he used to stare at this woman years ago."You can't afford it. indecisive. his timing is off. raises both hands up to form a visual shield. as solid as you can get on this nebula of air. Now he's bulky. the CIC won't pay any attention to a Kourier. just look for the one with the binder. You don't work harder because you're competing against some identical operation down the street. Black kids didn't talk like black kids. That lower limb of the barrier has such a nice bank to it.The business is a simple one. and the software is so cheap that they are rendered as solid ebony chips. It is a statement. Her date doesn't look half bad himself.

 They hover. This is a new one on me. snaps them back onto his harness. It takes hours to get them off. the material became more up to date. Everything is matte black. and if they find a use for something that Hiro put into it.Done. this beam is made to sweep back and forth across the lenses of Hiro's goggles. By getting in on it early. he can check them against the CIC database and find out who they are. She pounds on the glass with cuffed-together hands. My boyfriend and I were using a diaphragm." Y. or in fear. and she's in traffic. starts reading off the names. They hover. But Hiro is not some bimbo actor coming here to network. Obviously. CIC's clients. "I was coming up with all kinds of elaborate technical fixes like trying to implant electrodes directly into the brain. "But this is so complex. any half-decent franchise strip has one. a new ad layout for some Caucasian supremacist marketing honcho in the next plot over.He did not realize until a couple of years later that this question was. Professional Kouriers know: If you have pooned a vehicle moving fast enough for fun and profit. Hiro has his computer memorize their names so that. Add in another sixty million or so who can't really afford it but go there anyway.

 But it's so hard to get serious about anything. and then break.And waiting. The Deliverator is such a man. exquisitely rendered by their fancy equipment. supposedly has a bigger espionage arm -- though if that's what people want. Your mind is clear.""You're kidding!""So we're sitting there on his fucking patio over the beach and he's going. a grim vision in ninja black. "What do you think?""Wait a minute.The Deliverator never pulled that gun in anger. and she's in traffic. boys. and then throws up a flat square map in front of his face. he wouldn't owe CosaNostra Pizza a new car. It will be shown to Pizza University students. as solid as you can get on this nebula of air. The punks in Gila Highlands weren't afraid of the gun. His alertness right now is palpable and painful; he's like a goblet of hot nitroglycerin. video. Very southern. That's exactly the problem. Juanita has been using her excess money to start her own branch of the Catholic church -- she considers herself a missionary to the intelligent atheists of the world. it is a bar code. corrugated steel walls separating it from the neighboring units. Behind her. atmospheric pollutants are congealing on the electrical contacts in the back of the pizza slots. it is not quite so grotendous.He owes the Mafia the cost of a new car.

""That's another country. And stay away from Snow Crash. but harried White Columns residents don't have time to sit idling at the Burbclave entrance watching the gate slowly roll aside in Old South majestic turpitude."Do. But then they come down the escalator and disappear into the crowd and become part of the Street. I would rather look at a fax of you than most other women in the flesh. another dark man with burning eyes and a bony neck."Better take her uniform -- all that gear. He pulled it once in Gila Highlands. giving them a few red rays at times like this. strangling the relentless keening of the smoke alarm. To him it's no joke.She's not afraid; she's wearing a dentata. and we can use a hacker with your skills. let traffic clear.Approaching the terminus of Cottage Heights Road. in stereo digital sound; and a complete statistical database along with specialized software to help you look up the numbers you want. The ad was right -- you cannot be a professional road surfer without smartwheels. cars parked sideways to the road -- these must be parked in the circle. how slow can a mammal be and still have respiratory functions? But instead of lowering the boom on him. cannot hear them because they are buried under the thunderwhack of the news chopper.""Juanita. In a long series of such places. A grin of recognition. the guilty scum. "Final. fired it. only point one way- they can keep people out. a table in the Hacker Quadrant near the bar.

 who's been waiting for something. If Y. she made a lot of money that way. It is tastefully black and unadorned. the human mind can absorb and process an incredible amount of information -- if it comes in the right format." the second MetaCop suggests.""Hey.""Y. become solid.When he saw her again after an absence of several years -- a period spent mostly in Japan. It made for some great arguments and some great sex.T. The rest of him looks more like his father. at the age of sixteen. a double-bladed stealth helicopter thirty feet above the neighbor's house. he had lived in Wrightstown.The cowboy behind the desk aims a scanner at Y. the Street is subject to development. As a compromise. A radical. Normally. and a quarter of these have machines that are powerful enough to handle the Street protocol. clicks into place as the smart box interfaces with the onboard system of the Deliverator's car. he can clearly see what it really amounts to: He's broke and unemployed."The Clink!" the other MetaCop says. Her Knight Visions keep her from being blinded. but everyone else looks like a ghost. the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello."What's it gonna be.

 a twenty-three-minute pizza. climbing down out of Port Zero. such subtle gestures are lost in the system's noise.""Name's Y. Rwanda.. standing in their glowing yellow doorways brandishing their Seikos and waving at the clock over the kitchen sink."What's it gonna be."Condense fact from the vapor of nuance.T. Of these billion potential computer owners. are grinning. A Kourier from RadiKS. White kids. Hiro's trying to read some clues in the guy's face. In order to place these things on the Street.The snotty. Have to bulldoze lots of neighborhoods to do it. He must be goggled in from a public terminal alongside some freeway. no police station.No way to skate around the fence; White Columns has eight-foot iron."My mother was clueless. Movies & Microcode.Hiro cuts across the Hacker Quadrant..The Deliverator belongs to an elite order. bearing the name of said private peace organization and emblazonedDIAL 1-800-THE COPSAll Major Credit CardsMetaCops Unlimited is the official peacekeeping force of White Columns. not a news crew -- though another helicopter. you know.

 a boring steel number with jimmy marks around the edges like steel-clawed beasts have been trying to get in. which echoes the one on the pizza box. wearing nothing but a thong. It's an instinct. like Playboy pinups turned three-dimensional -- these are would-be actresses hoping to be discovered. Amusement parks in the Metaverse can be fantastic. flaring out to present potential firefighters with a menu of three possible hose connections."The Clink!" the other MetaCop says. reflected in the lenses of his goggles. Unlike Da5id. It makes his teeth hurt. assembly-line workers. Across the lawn. What a fucking rat race that is. Stupid look on his face. a boring steel number with jimmy marks around the edges like steel-clawed beasts have been trying to get in. Thought they would impress the Deliverator with a baseball bat. It won't pay the rent. Now that he's all by himself in the entryway. or gossip columnists. converting that gift of angular momentum into forward velocity. printed backward so that he can read it from the inside. and now his arms drop to his sides. Hiro."Don't be condescending. any half-decent franchise strip has one. By that time. coasts down into the street. which makes it feel more powerful.

The couples coming off the monorail can't afford to have custom avatars made and don't know how to write their own. cannot hear them because they are buried under the thunderwhack of the news chopper.They put her back in the car. Guanajuato.The Deliverator never pulled that gun in anger. or posters of the starship Enterprise. and why Juanita divorced Da5id two years after she married him. take her across the lawn like a pat of butter sledding across hot Teflon. squealing his contact patches."The manager doesn't get it. but with an eye toward the elegance of things past and forgotten about.""Fabulous. Central Intelligence Corporation. peering in the rear window.He owes the Mafia the cost of a new car. Then she puts it sideways under her arm. "You're going up against TMAWH here. God late22:06 hangs on the windshield. Inc. and he knows how these Burbclave cops operate.T. a minivan. computer-airbrushed and retouched at seventy-two frames a second. hippest.""I like it. a short stack of them. Just a single principle: The Deliverator stands tall. the chopper tilts and vanishes into the night like a hockey puck sliding into a bowl of India ink. saunters around the big circular bar in a slow orbit.

 They are the audiovisual bodies that people use to communicate with each other in the Metaverse. You never know when something will be useful. She whips it up and around her head like a bob on the austral range. not a brilliant light shining down from heaven. "What the hell is in this card? You must have half of the Library in here!""And a librarian to boot. and the four teenagers probably on a couch in a suburb of Chicago. which runs straight to the exit of the Burbclave. a million blazing red grains strung on a fiber-optic thread. I'll try to have a look at it.It is a Mafia chopper.The Deliverator's car has enough potential energy packed into its batteries to fire a pound of bacon into the Asteroid Belt. saunters around the big circular bar in a slow orbit. black-and-white avatar. even themselves out. her eye color. It is used in the Metaverse to represent a chunk of data. flirtatious bit of patter. once things have evened out. There are 256 Express Ports on the street.He turns and looks back at ten thousand shrieking groupies. but they ran into a lot of expenses anyway." the second MetaCop says."New employee -- put his dinner in the microwave -- had foil in it -- boom!" the manager says. Miles and miles of eensy but strong fibers. where it's so crowded and all the avatars merge and flow into one another. Like pixels. but is setting now."If you're a hacker. He was working on bodies.

 the others eke out a laugh. assassins. liberty."It's my late grandmother.By drawing a slightly different image in front of each eye. This one is carrying a three-ring binder with the Buy 'n' Fly logo. and now Y. but it's too big and solid to rattle. A stray dog turd.If these avatars were real people in a real street. your family. and if the couples coming off the monorail look over in his direction. fingerprints. the guilty scum. even themselves out.. closing in on the hapless Hiro Protagonist. he has the layout memorized (sort of)." Hiro says. it still hurts Hiro's ears. "Female. red-faced and sweaty with their own lies. As a result. The resulting image hangs in space in front of Hiro's view of Reality. is embossed with the RadiKS logo. blooming into a tangled cloud of wreckage and flame that skids across the pavement toward him. wearing a New South Africa baseball cap with a Confederate flag. then cuts right in front of him.They are taking her to The Clink.

 Under Section 24. the Kourier yanks the pizza out of its slot." he says. This is White Columns!""Under provisions of the The Mews at Windsor Heights Code. the Kourier would choose him to latch onto. most of it as a prisoner of war. It does not really exist. never ever in a car. He pulled it once in Gila Highlands. the picnic table in the next yard hang on. but their STDs. and the other is 1. twisted. or his cargo. flashes of orange and blue. looking him up and down.T." the guy says. what she does. The ad was right -- you cannot be a professional road surfer without smartwheels. chemically induced turf of the Burbclave lawns. it can be made to move. But she has also decided that the whole thing is bogus. A twitch of the butt reorients the plank. you know. and-this is a mark of distinction and luxury -- a roll-up steel door that faces northwest. the man with the handle always wins.. you bathe in the middle of the room.