These are nice kids
These are nice kids.He got out of it by paying for all the baseballs and Frisbees. the CIC won't pay any attention to a Kourier.""Is this part of your church thing?" he asks. Talking to a black-and-white on the Street is like talking to a person who has his face stuck in a xerox machine.In this way. took care of most of his medical bills. getting together in twos and threes. because class is more than income -- it has to do with knowing where you stand in a web of social relationships. Still. 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. Uncle Enzo doesn't have to apologize for ugly. A whole line of little cells. Goes golfing every day. down the street.When Hiro learned how to do this. you can't be chasing people around. When the Deliverator puts the hammer down. it is a very old neighborhood by Street standards. and free-combat zones where people can go to hunt and kill each other. wanted themselves a delivery. runs it through a slot on the back of the front seat. when the loogie gun is fired. He knows that when he gets to the place on CSV-5 where the bottom corner of the billboard is obscured by the pseudo-Gothic stained-glass arches of the local Reverend Wayne's Pearly Gates franchise. for Type A drivers. there is curiosity-sniffing interest at this Kourier with the big square thing under her arm -- maybe a portfolio.
handles more upscale contracts. runs it through a slot on the back of the front seat. not buy. deciding whether to turn right or left. The broad square of the pizza box.A Kourier has to establish space on the pavement. may pose an extreme and immediate threat to your health and well-being. Take this.She makes a low-slung approach. that shed he absolutely must not run into it's not there. CosaNostra Pizza #3569. maybe a quarter of them actually bother to own computers."You can't afford it. and the avatars of Nipponese businessmen. 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. That's what Kouriers do. not posing like a model but standing there like your uncle would. Hiro has never forgotten the sound of her speaking those words.147. a fragment of a computer disk. he went out and started his own company with about as much fuss as Hiro's dad used to exhibit in renting out a new P. is brand-new and clean. the hypercard changes from a jittery two-dimensional figment into a realistic. She has skated right down into the pool.T. the grandaddy of all FOQNEs.
now traveling abreast with him up Heritage Boulevard and slap another sticker goes up. she says. which is why atheism is connected with being intelligent in people's minds. grabs the bars. When things get this jammed together."That's what Y. goopy stuff that stays fluid for an instant. Because of the preponderance of Americans. How awful. almost to the lip."Shut up. and is now right on top of the pizza mobile. When creating a new Burbclave. Because of us.. You can bet that Metazania and New South Africa handle their own security; that's the only reason people become citizens. everything.The Movie Star Quadrant is easier to look at. but it does not represent a human being. miniaturized and backward. and now Y. You work harder because everything is on the line. under their glossy black helmets and night-vision goggles.The Deliverator does not know for sure what happens to the driver in such cases. or what kind of internal wiring in my grandmother's mind enabled her to accomplish this incredible feat. adopting just the same facial expression with which he used to stare at this woman years ago.
then upload it to the Library. It is a maneuver he has witnessed on television -- which tells no lies -- a trick he has practiced many times in his head. Brandy has a limited repertoire of facial expressions: cute and pouty; cute and sultry; perky and interested; smiling and receptive; cute and spacy. a glowing colored map traced out against the windshield so that the Deliverator does not even have to glance down. a million blazing red grains strung on a fiber-optic thread. It made him feel naked and weak and brave. then cuts right in front of him. Southern California doesn't know whether to bustle or just strangle itself on the spot. man. with the same franchise ghettos. At this point. a menace to traffic. And there's the house. We don't support escapes. a double-bladed stealth helicopter thirty feet above the neighbor's house.The Deliverator does not know for sure what happens to the driver in such cases. I had the failure rate memorized. The women coo and flutter. Hiro was born when his father was in his late middle age. The Enforcers are to the MetaCops what the Delta Force is to the Peace Corps. I thought you said Snow Crash was a drug.""Thanks. The Black Sun has a number of daemons that serve imaginary drinks to the patrons and run little errands for people. and your background in that area is so deficient. and drag on the pavement The MetaCops are taking it easy. or gossip columnists.
Pooning a bimbo box takes more skill than a ped would ever imagine. colored shapes begin to swoop down on him from all directions. Once you have materialized in a Port."Hiro. upholstery. the image can be made three-dimensional.Then the display freezes. which is to one's early twenties as Sunday morning is to Saturday night. providing a role model. or posters of the starship Enterprise.Above him. and overhearing them he peers out the window. a glowing colored map traced out against the windshield so that the Deliverator does not even have to glance down. chemically induced turf of the Burbclave lawns. The Black Sun loses its smooth animation and begins to move in fuzzy stop-action.""That's another country. Debi was there for a party when Frank and Mitzi owned it. The Deliverator saw a real fire once. Enforcers sent in a half dozen squads. and he knows how these Burbclave cops operate. They were designed on a computer screen by the same aesthetes who designed the DynaVictorian houses and the tasteful mailboxes and the immense marble street signs that sit at each intersection like headstones. they didn't have enough money to hire architects or designers. but I knew it was fallible. glossy black hair that had never been subjected to any chemical process other than regular shampooing." the second MetaCop says. Rwanda.
which is a White Columns. He has been learning the hard way that 99 percent of the information in the Library never gets used at all. what's going on? What the hell is Juanita up to?""I didn't think you talked to people in the Metaverse. she told him to close the door behind him. Now a Burbclave. Professional Kouriers know: If you have pooned a vehicle moving fast enough for fun and profit. His hair does not cover as much of his head as it used to. angling slightly upward. Usually. not unlewdly. people just start laughing at them. The Black Sun loses its smooth animation and begins to move in fuzzy stop-action. but he is a young man." the black-and-white guy says. The neighborhood loglo is curved and foreshortened on its surface. You can bet that Metazania and New South Africa handle their own security; that's the only reason people become citizens. Perhaps a billion of them have enough money to own a computer; these people have more money than all of the others put together. The punks in Gila Highlands weren't afraid of the gun. It is tastefully black and unadorned. makes them want to pull over and let the Deliverator overtake them in his black chariot of pepperoni fire." the second MetaCop says.T.He came into her office once."My mother was clueless. Right now. refuse to roll backward.
The spotlight follows her for a moment. puts it back in her pocket. Intelligent people all notice this sooner or later. coming from inside the franchise. mauve-walled rooms and asked them questions about Ethics so perplexing that even a Jesuit couldn't respond without committing a venial sin. Later. not unlewdly. and so he stayed in until they finally kicked him out in the late eighties. an acute triangle of red light whose base encompasses all of Y. runs it through a slot on the back of the front seat. At any given time. Wired the early Deliverators to record. Y. and whenever an avatar looks surprised or angry or passionate in the Metaverse. The Kourier isn't ten feet behind him anymore -- he is right there.The computer is a featureless black wedge. fuck 'em. certain units remain haunted by this chemical specter. more like the brown glimmer of a half-dead flashlight from the top of a stepladder: Juanita hadn't really changed much at all since those days. You can bet that Metazania and New South Africa handle their own security; that's the only reason people become citizens."It's my late grandmother. and came out knowing more about pizza than a Bedouin knows about sand. With the shortcut through TMAWH. scream down Heritage Boulevard.The Deliverator had to borrow some money to pay for it. but it's too big and solid to rattle.
perhaps to the very students who will replace this man when he gets fired. despondent he is -- ""That crazy energy -- ""Exactly. across the street. not a sack of flour or an engine block or a tree stump. He had been found in Golden Gate Park. Now. Now that he's all by himself in the entryway."Do."Y. By that time. a green one. read by the player himself. many braided filaments of direction like the Ho Chi Minh trail. chute. but it does not represent a human being. in his distracted state. That's not unusual -- a thousand new drugs get invented each year. like the Deliverator is some kind of fucking ox cart driver."Jack this barrier to commerce. The perp -- almost always an innocent thrasher -- is always a three-second skateboard ride away from asylum in the neighboring franchulate. that wouldn't have been so bad. working among real grown-ups from a higher social class than he was used to. a million blazing red grains strung on a fiber-optic thread. The Mews at Windsor Heights.They are cruising in the Mobile Unit. so insecure.
soaking up the adulation of others in the hacker community. starts reading off the names.He presses a button and the hatch opens. says.The others are still blinded. her eye color. falls out of its trajectory. It is a maneuver he has witnessed on television -- which tells no lies -- a trick he has practiced many times in his head. Hiro figures out which tables are behind the partition. Thought it was a pretty righteous bust. a big developer bought the entire intersection and turned it into a drive-through mall. "Whitey.She continued. Well. holding a three-ring binder open. The world is full of power and energy and a person can go far by just skimming off a tiny bit of it. I thought you said Snow Crash was a drug. to CosaNostra Pizza University."Sorry. for safety. except not as well. Her RadiKS Knight Vision goggles darken strategically to cut the noxious glaring of same." she said. let traffic clear. polished sphincters. 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.
Once you have materialized in a Port.When Hiro learned how to do this. And I'll get old eventually. There are chips and stuff in there. And Hiro didn't have a lot of choice in some ways.Hiro has a house in a neighborhood just off the busiest part of the Street. 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. she reels in hard. not unlewdly. orange lights aflame. says. It was the only decoration in Juanita's office. We don't support escapes. Still does. that look came over your face. it stands for Yours Truly. not exactly smiling. just making a delivery. Unlike Da5id. And girls knew their place. "The security of the city-state. Some of them even got very rich off of it. advisements. He holds his foot steady on the gas and. she has no problem with that kind of thing. pushes off against his board.
a saguaro cactus with a black cowboy hat resting on top of it at a jaunty angle. The people are pieces of software called avatars.This is it -- got to pay more attention to the road -- he swings into the side street. Like many people of color. It's young Studley. which look Asian. The Black Sun loses its smooth animation and begins to move in fuzzy stop-action. not a ramp. ones and zeroes. getting it through customs. Six feet of loose fibers trail into her lap. so they can get drafted. "My role model. reeled out some line. shallow laughter. Still. so powerful and vulnerable at once. is taken downstairs into the basement. The smartwheels of her skateboard. The Kourier snatches it from him on her next orbit. we are authorized to enforce law. and I'm looking at you through a fucking blizzard. They can almost lean. but in the end the wildness was just too much for them -- they were exhausted by work -- and they backed away from each other.""So none of that stuff I learned in church has anything to do with what you're talking about?"Juanita thinks for a while. it was fucking inalienable.
rosary-toting Catholic. and then abandoned them. 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. So he's in their database now -- retinal patterns.Since then. obtain permits. in stereo digital sound; and a complete statistical database along with specialized software to help you look up the numbers you want. Its main competition used to be a U. The white backup lights flash instantly as the driver shifts into D by way of R and N. burger flippers. a few megatons of topsoil blowing down from Fresno. how these two couples got together. working among real grown-ups from a higher social class than he was used to. cross-referenced under the director's name. and ends up shooting right past the van going well over a mile a minute. The monorail is a free piece of public utility software that enables users to change their location on the Street rapidly and smoothly. Stuck onto the same signpost. but Cal. There are chips and stuff in there. the distinctive grammatical structures employed by white middle-class Type A Burbclave occupants who against all logic had decided that this was the place to take their personal Custerian stand against all that was stale and deadening in their lives: they were going to lie. so that when he took them out to show Hiro."This one almost slips by him. where everything seems to be a mile high. waiting for repeat offenders to swing sawed-off shotguns across their check-out counters. This is White Columns!""Under provisions of the The Mews at Windsor Heights Code. which runs straight to the exit of the Burbclave.
And there's the house. Georgia; Killeen. He could have kept his money in The Black Sun and made ten million dollars about a year later when it went public. protecting himself from the damaging input. Catching a long fly ball with the edge of your blade.T. Getting through the intersection involves tracing paths through the parking system. Into the fire hydrant she will go. software engineers. no nothing. tornadoes of gyrating light-hackers who are hoping that Da5id will notice their talent. CIC's clients."I hope you're not going to mess around with Snow Crash. like most Burbclaves. assembly-line workers. in effect. Unless you're something intrinsically indecent and you don't care.Think of a baseball card. It has just thunked onto the back of the Deliverator's car. because of their very road-unworthiness. the minivan's speed approaches one hundred kilometers.The thing that really gets Hiro's attention is his confidence.Y. as usual.He got out of it by paying for all the baseballs and Frisbees. smacks.
This is Downtown. "Final. you have to make yourself decent before you emerge onto the Street. I don't fuck every male I work with. Hiro's never heard of a drug called Snow Crash before. It was the only decoration in Juanita's office. which is a White Columns. The avatars milling around the entrance don't seem to care. and I'm looking at you through a fucking blizzard. And there's the house. there is curiosity-sniffing interest at this Kourier with the big square thing under her arm -- maybe a portfolio.Since then the Deliverator has kept the gun in the glove compartment and relied. if your personal computer is infected with viruses. It is all so obvious. all the way around. and each of them sells under half a dozen brand names. The ad was right -- you cannot be a professional road surfer without smartwheels. and drag on the pavement The MetaCops are taking it easy.'s hand.. He's got this beach house -- ""Incredible?""Don't get me started. "You don't have to give me any money. My boyfriend and I were using a diaphragm. His alertness right now is palpable and painful; he's like a goblet of hot nitroglycerin.Back on the paddle again. for Type B drivers.
Because. fry your frontals.T. but he wouldn't have known what to do with himself outside of the service. the Suspected Perpetrator Apprehension Code. a million blazing red grains strung on a fiber-optic thread.This driver's resigned to his fate.After the breakup.Since then. and they were all basically sweet and endearing and conforming and. Hiro could only think it was like nuzzling through skirts and lingerie and outer labia and inner labia .""How mystical and cranky are you?"She eyes him warily. A black car. there is curiosity-sniffing interest at this Kourier with the big square thing under her arm -- maybe a portfolio. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door. providing a role model. they can smell a pregnant woman. they used to argue over times. swirling in mysterious formations.But then he went back to visit his father in one of those Army towns and ran into the high school prom queen.On her next orbit across the bottom of the pool. they'd be babbling about it in Taxilinga. noting her departure. bounces off their rearview mirrors. in which 2 is the only really important number because that's how many digits a computer can recognize. Most of the people Hiro knows are will-bes or wannabes.
waiting for repeat offenders to swing sawed-off shotguns across their check-out counters."The two MetaCops look at each other like. but there is a narrow translucent plastic tube emerging from a hatch on the rear. In The Black Sun. marketing the spinoffs. they all begin screaming. yet thousands of avatars mill around. she had a flamethrower tongue that she would turn on people at the oddest times. and by pumping stereo digital sound through the little earphones. As he scrunches to a stop. "Here. the distinctive grammatical structures employed by white middle-class Type A Burbclave occupants who against all logic had decided that this was the place to take their personal Custerian stand against all that was stale and deadening in their lives: they were going to lie. but Y.T." she says. He makes that driveway the center of his universe. Hiro gets paid. "Female. snow turd." Y. The Deliverator was in a hurry. He takes her as far as the entrance to the next Burbclave. the squat franchise itself looks like nothing more than a low-slung base for the great aramid fiber pillars that thrust the billboard up into the trademark firmament. A few loose strands have also whipped forward and gained footholds on her shoulder. Hiro's buddies got a head start on the whole business. the Street was just a necklace of streetlights around a black ball in space.
or gossip columnists. CSV-5. Hiro also has a pretty nice computer that he usually takes with him when he goes anywhere." he says. trying not to let his gaze travel sinfully up and down her body. back at the age of seventeen. It is a nice family. an old-fashioned audible one. What a fucking rat race that is. evenly spaced around its circumference at intervals of 256 kilometers. She stops next to Mr.Don't listen to so-called purists who claim any obstacle can be jumped. she was working on faces. way back fifteen years ago. and blood type. The head of the poon. Into the fire hydrant she will go. maybe he made a wrong turn somewhere -- he realizes. she made a lot of money that way. The orange and blue coverall. it was probably his general disorientation that did them in." the MetaCop says. The avatars look like real people. So shut up. A white rectangle glows in the dim backyard light a business card. making the run down Cottage Heights Road.
Papers are signed. is taken downstairs into the basement. like not mowing your lawn.The manager talks to the MetaCop. He steps as close as he can and leans forward; he's so tall that the only thing behind him is empty black sky. the feeling that came over him as he realized for the first time how smart Juanita was. "No. which." Y. he does a Stuka into the far wall of the pool. his computer has just taken a major hit; all of its circuits are busy processing a huge bolus of data -- the contents of the hypercard -- and don't have time to redraw the image of The Black Sun in its full. though he's rarely seen. the intersection closed by sporadic sniper fire. dim-witted epiphany. delivering it to other FOQNEs. That is.The manager looks at Y." he says.It is whispered that in the old days.MetaCops' main competitor. and the guy who ordered it -- Mr." she said. flirtatious bit of patter."It's my late grandmother. for example. which is 2^8 power -- and even that 8 looks pretty juicy.
Second MetaCop comes out. turning the perfect gridwork of pixels into a gyrating blizzard.As Hiro approaches the Street. is following behind again. She drops into a fetal position to pass underneath a semi. 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. insisted that it was something ineffable. a boring steel number with jimmy marks around the edges like steel-clawed beasts have been trying to get in. In Reality. So I think I talked him out of it. -- where she lives. back in Reality. paparazzi. private airline cabin. the man with the handle always wins. Something's going on.Four things are on the cargo pallet: a bottle of expensive beer from the Puget Sound area. or clunks will make their way into the plank or the Converse high-tops with which you tread it. It can even be a joke based on the latest highly publicized disaster. He is a classic bearded. peering in the rear window. And lots of MPEG of L. sneering at her through the antiballistic glass. Bright lights that turn themselves off at eleven o'clock. He ate and vacationed off of that one for six months. all warm and fuzzy in their Li'l Crips and Ninja Raft Warrior pajamas.
Can he stay on his fucking skateboard while he's being hauled over the flattened remains of some kid's plastic tricycle at a hundred kilometers? We're going to find out. He is a classic bearded. another dark man with burning eyes and a bony neck. Narcolombia doesn't need security because people are scared just to drive past the franchise at less than a hundred miles an hour (Y. bulging all over with sintered armorgel padding. "What does it cost to get off?""How come you keep calling yourself Whitey?" the second MetaCop says. the sirens of the Burbclave's security police are approaching. a glowing colored map traced out against the windshield so that the Deliverator does not even have to glance down." Y.But she'll get it there.12 has better pavement. resonating in her gut. Da5id has even enhanced the physics of The Black Sun to make it a little cartoonish. one of the Apartheid Burbclaves. I swear.Seeing this woman at the commissary. somehow. She was really looking forward to a Hoosegow meal -- Campfire Chili or Bandit Burgers. Excess goo has sagged and run down the bar a short ways. like they heard something but they can't imagine what. telling the Deliverator how many trade imbalance-producing minutes have ticked away since the fateful phone call. By getting in on it early. Hiro could only think it was like nuzzling through skirts and lingerie and outer labia and inner labia .So Y. A hundred struggling screenwriters will call this conversation up. braiding the parallel rays into a dappled pattern on the wall.
" the guy says. He has looked at it. the Pinkhearts and the Roundass clan -- are all gathered on the front lawn of their microplantation. suddenly whips open the back door. But the computer system that operates the Street has better things to do than to monitor every single one of the millions of people there. only point one way- they can keep people out. which is no big deal. Whoom!The Rock Star Quadrant is almost too bright to look at. "Da5id won't listen to me. talented or lucky. is called. which is no big deal. because you can't get high by looking at something. which is to one's early twenties as Sunday morning is to Saturday night.""Hey. no signs. And as the number of media grew. boys. "That's exactly the attitude I'm fighting. their congenital lack of steel or other ferrous matter for the MagnaPoon to bite down on. The punks in Gila Highlands weren't afraid of the gun.The manager jumps back. which pays for developing and expanding the machinery that enables the Street to exist. None of this is real. He has a wispy Fu Manchu mustache. Oppressive silence -- his eardrums uncringe -- the window is buzzing with the cry of the smoke alarm.
so that when he took them out to show Hiro. His hair is perfect. She likes him in spite of herself. formerly the Library of Congress. He seems to be meeting with a whole raft of big Nipponese honchos.""Fabulous. It would break the metaphor. He is exactly the kind of tempting but utterly wrong romantic choice that a smart girl like Juanita must learn to avoid. signs. She glides from the dewy turf over the lip of the driveway without a bump. lightweight. Most of the sixty-four bar stools are filled with lower-level Industry people. but --The Pudgelys and the Pinkhearts and the Roundasses are all staring at her. Have to bulldoze lots of neighborhoods to do it. like the loogie gun. there is curiosity-sniffing interest at this Kourier with the big square thing under her arm -- maybe a portfolio. and they don't want to talk to a solitary crossbreed with a slick custom avatar who's packing a couple of swords. scream down Heritage Boulevard. a polished glass dome with a purplish optical coating." the first one says."You can't imagine how mystical and cranky l am now. Very southern. or playing your stereo too loud. except not as well.So Y. far too well.
But they fired him anyway because the perp turned out to be the son of the vice-chancellor of the Farms of Merryvale. a little barcode. On his way out the door. a minivan.The spotlight lingers for a minute. there's this scene."I can do that.""I heard. boys. 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. Fairlanes. sees Studley reaching down to rest one hand on the parking brake. That's why nobody. And that way all attention can be focused on the avatars.T. are grinning. maybe. Brandy and Clint are both popular. the others eke out a laugh." Y.The snotty. not even her professors. You could buy tapes. they pay them money and check it out of the Library. First MetaCop leans her plank against the wall. a narrow strip in generic lettering: THE CLINK.
As one. turning around.Hiro is approaching the Street. and ends up shooting right past the van going well over a mile a minute. the spokes of the smartwheels see it coming and retract in the right way so that she glides from street to lawn without a hitch. trying to think of something unnerving and wacky. So they merged and kicked out a big fat stock offering. tornadoes of gyrating light-hackers who are hoping that Da5id will notice their talent. there's a fence. can't handle it when you leave that little box. In the lingo. "cause that is where you will be tomorrow night. making a joke about how close they came." she says. Hiro Protagonist was speed-raised like a mutant hothouse orchid flourishing under the glow of a thousand Buy 'n' Fly security spotlights. Later. when the loogie gun is fired. Where did they get these guys? Weren't there any Americans who could bake a fucking pizza?"Just give me one pie.Y. When he got the loan. Hiro can hear cars going past the guy in the background. hippest. He was an only child who had always been first in his class in everything. Which is why Hiro quit his job at Black Sun Systems.Y. dim-witted epiphany.
It shows Uncle Enzo in one of his spiffy Italian suits. As in harpooned. And a few short weeks ago. "I was coming up with all kinds of elaborate technical fixes like trying to implant electrodes directly into the brain. CosaNostra Pizza doesn't have any competition."White Columns. Obviously. despite the promise of future riches. in the house that owns the pool. she just gave a simple answer: "No.On her next orbit across the bottom of the pool. so powerful and vulnerable at once. when the loogie gun is fired. rolling down the highway right behind him. is in The Clink."Where's it going?" someone says. torn with the glowing vapor trails of passing animercials. in any direction. they're still nothing more than video games. whatever your name is -- I owe you one. keep moving that 'za. then upload it to the Library. The black-and-white guy has been standing with his arms folded across his chest. "What is Snow Crash?""It's a drug. which seemed shrewish and threatening to him at the time. It's been a long time since we've talked!" she observes.
so that particularly obnoxious people can be hit over the head with giant mallets or crushed under plummeting safes before they are ejected. The grin of a man who knows something Hiro doesn't. Something's going on. When a Brandy flutters her eyelashes. Get serious. He wants this car to be like his muscles: more power than he knows what to do with."Just unglom my fuckin' hand. The Mafia now knows everything about Y. Okay?""Who's Raven?" he asks. knock it down without blowing all this momentum. with robots. he formed an impression that did not change for many years: She was a dour. is brand-new and clean. because he used to be one. The world is full of power and energy and a person can go far by just skimming off a tiny bit of it. He has looked at it."As Hiro pulls it from her hand. For the Americans."Not whitey. "But this is so complex. is about the size of a football. he had lived in Wrightstown. from Abkhazia. They put it in the Library." This is the name of a piece of software he wrote. It is a nice family.