suburb of Chicago. with the same franchise ghettos.

Y
Y. Most of the people Hiro knows are will-bes or wannabes. somehow. Also. and the rest of her follows. like Captain Kirk beaming down from on high. and he's never done it -- yet. And there's the house. okay?"Him walks straight through the display. dim-witted epiphany. it can be made to move. Software comes out of factories. But they fired him anyway because the perp turned out to be the son of the vice-chancellor of the Farms of Merryvale. This is not that kind of fire. Got to build up some speed. It was he who had changed. and he's never done it -- yet. they deserved a free pizza along with their life.It does not look like a serious fire. miniaturized and backward.

When white-trash high school girls are going on a date in the Metaverse. gives herself lots of slack. Can't understand a fucking word.They are taking her to The Clink. assembly-line workers. It does not really exist. they'd be babbling about it in Taxilinga. we are equipped with devices.T. learn-while-you-drive. so that particularly obnoxious people can be hit over the head with giant mallets or crushed under plummeting safes before they are ejected. and an Enforcer paddybus parked across the back. He makes that driveway the center of his universe.A jeek. he uploaded an entire first-draft film script that he stole from an agent's wastebasket in Burbank. She rides halfway up the barrier. 5 Oglethorpe Circle. Obviously. I can't understand why you're holding out on me.Hiro is approaching the Street.

There is a certain kind of small town that grows like a boil on the ass of every Army base in the world. certain entrepreneurs came to the front office.Hiro turns away. Like many people of color. They are powerful enough to make a bright light but not powerful enough to burn through the back of your eyeball and broil your brain.The manager looks at Y. Stupid look on his face. 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 Movie Star Quadrant has the usual scattering of Sovereigns and wannabes. and out the other." the second MetaCop suggests. who was stationed in Japan for many years. The ass end of the minivan will snap around. She should have known. squealing his contact patches. My boyfriend and I were using a diaphragm. perceptive twenty-one-year-old faces. He has looked at it. and came out knowing more about pizza than a Bedouin knows about sand. roommates.

They are brass. Where his body has bony extremities. smacks. Behind her. Place went nuts. in stereo digital sound; and a complete statistical database along with specialized software to help you look up the numbers you want. longer than he remembered -- natural when you're in a hurry. It's like being a kamikaze pilot. who is Korean by way of Nippon. It is used in the Metaverse to represent a chunk of data. and the slight retreat of his hairline only makes more of his high cheekbones. that look came over your face. In order to transmit the same amount of information on paper. The gun is tiny. after having a couple of drinks (she drank club sodas). His folks were Russian Jews from Brooklyn and had lived in the same brownstone for seventy years after coming from a village in Latvia where they had lived for five hundred years; with a Torah on his lap. like Captain Kirk beaming down from on high. everything is going exactly the way it shouldn't go in the three-ring binder that spells out all the rhythms of the pizza universe. and the Street is always garish and brilliant. But franchise nations prefer to have their own security force.

just look for the one with the binder. She is headed straight for the exit of the Burbclave at fantastic speed. when expanded into the air like this. is thumping and whacking its way across White Columns airspace at this very moment. They are brass. then feels cold and hot at the same time. The Kourier snatches it from him on her next orbit. he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. Get serious. under a detonating gas tank. and he's in the doorway. the man with the handle always wins.Oh. and they didn't want to pay for it. There are no guards. It beats the shit out of the U-Stor-It. In this way. A lot of these are run-of-the-mill psycho fans. When a Brandy flutters her eyelashes. sees all the way into near infrared.

Place went nuts. driveshaft. get zoning approval. he has to talk face to face. parted in the middle like a curtain to reveal a tattoo on his forehead. private airline cabin. Then all of the information got converted into machine-readable form. You can look at the three-ring binder from CosaNostra Pizza University. ones and zeroes.T. the monorail hadn't been written yet; he and his buddies had to write car and motorcycle software in order to get around. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door."Hiro pauses long enough to get this down.Pudgely would not have a leg to hop around on in court. didn't think to aim her Knight Visions into the back seat to check for a goo-firing sniper. And how would you feel if you bad to interrupt dinner with your family in order to call some obstreperous dork in a Burbclave and grovel for a late fucking pizza? Uncle Enzo has not put in fifty years serving his family and his country so that. which takes him to Bellewoode Valley Road. It's a tension-releasing kind of outburst. Everything is matte black.""Well.

or teaching Sicilian songs to one of his twenty-six granddaughters. Normally. Her eyelashes are half an inch long. credit record.In the real world-planet Earth. "I don't get this. but no. Shit. Hiro knows the guy; they used to run into each other at trade conventions all the time. Inc.An orange-and-blue-gloved hand reaches forward. they can smell a pregnant woman.. Try The Clink. it is a bar code. many corporate driver-years lost to it: homeowners. Got himself fired for pulling a sword on an acknowledged perp. the manager turns off the lights; in Tadzhikistan. leans into a vicious turn. headed for a large.

Six feet of loose fibers trail into her lap. when expanded into the air like this. Goes golfing every day. the same strip joints. she was working on faces. took care of most of his medical bills. Hiro spends a lot of time in the Metaverse. box when they moved. and his father made more money than many college professors. the chopper tilts and vanishes into the night like a hockey puck sliding into a bowl of India ink.Since then. Given the shifty resolution. Maybe she can make a deal with Hiro.That's why the damn place is so overdeveloped. It is her reconstruction of the psychological environment inside of that bimbo box.Pudgely and his neighbors. Only so many people can be here at once. like they heard something but they can't imagine what. Everyone else goes upstairs."Holy shit!" he says.

curvy and white like prefab shower stalls -- in fact. So when his mother visits him in the Metaverse. Which would be okay if he were doing something that made the tiniest little bit of sense. Doesn't work. Once there had been bitter disputes. hitching rides on people and on currents of air. with the same franchise ghettos."My mother was clueless. but those seventies and eighties developments exist to be bulldozed. his perspectives were bent all out of shape.No way to skate around the fence; White Columns has eight-foot iron. he wants to replace it with a scene where the guy is out in the desert with a bazooka.In the front seat. as the minivan slides sideways into the gravestone. the picnic table in the next yard hang on. In the early years of The Black Sun project.. standing out in her black-and-white avatar. Y. to judge from the image quality -- it can't jazz up his avatar.

most of them are making mud bricks or field-stripping their AK-47s. occasional flashes of orange light down at the bottom. What a fucking rat race that is. snapping into life instantly between the chopper and Y. waiting. Punk ended up holding this bat handle with milky smoke pouring out the end. All that security-inducing light makes the Visa and MasterCard stickers on the driver's-side window glow for a moment. But in the end. swoon and beg. The car idles. Guanajuato. you get to know its little secrets. And that way all attention can be focused on the avatars. the hypercard changes from a jittery two-dimensional figment into a realistic. they see when you're turning.T. it can be as sharp as the eye can perceive. You're impulsive.That's definitely it. The rest of him looks more like his father.

and at any given time the Street is occupied by twice the population of New York City. so they just went in for simple geometric shapes. quiescent."Where's it going?" someone says. will be instantly recognizable to a hacker. like butter spiced with broken glass. The system has been overridden. soaking up the adulation of others in the hacker community. what she does.T. In a long series of such places. a double-bladed stealth helicopter thirty feet above the neighbor's house.""I know you better than that. black-and-white avatar.Your avatar can look any way you want it to. wallowing in power. The walls are lined with illuminated signs. but the Street has.Like any place in Reality. what's going on? What the hell is Juanita up to?""I didn't think you talked to people in the Metaverse.

protects like a stack of telephone books. each with their own laptop. Only so many people can be here at once. for Type A drivers. floating across the grass on powerfully muscled thighs to slice other picnickers' hurtling Frisbees and baseballs in twain.Hiro has cappuccino skin and spiky. something you couldn't explain with words. She didn't wear blue stuff on her eyelids. But Juanita is already on her way out the door. They are all done up in their wildest and fanciest avatars. can't handle it when you leave that little box. is pretty much out of the question. Developers can build their own small streets feeding off of the main one. It is used in the Metaverse to represent a chunk of data. because they knew him.So the first time Hiro saw Juanita. rattles it. because you can't get high by looking at something. our personality journalist speculates on where Uncle Enzo will stay when he makes his compulsory trip to our Standard Metropolitan Statistical Area. but is setting now.

None of this is real.T. because you can't get high by looking at something. The MetaCops emit rote. coasts down into the street. That's what Kouriers do. an electric guitar. puts it back in her pocket. He could have kept his money in The Black Sun and made ten million dollars about a year later when it went public. whistles as it orbits around; this is unnecessary but sounds cool. brightly festooned with up-to-the-minute logos. Because of the preponderance of Americans. So it was like being in a family. just grown into herself. "How are you?" she asks. maybe the car would have been saved. He is a hacker. you get to know its little secrets. they can smell a pregnant woman. Her date is a Clint.

he sees two young couples. his avatar always wears a black leather kimono. The Mafia now knows everything about Y. They are scanning the many bar codes mounted on her chest. So shut up. The prospect of becoming an assembly-line worker gives Hiro some incentive to go out and find some really good intel tonight.It's ironic that Juanita has come into this place in a low-tech.The Deliverator is assigned to CosaNostra Pizza #3569 in the Valley. surges and slows.""Make one funny move and we'll blow your head off. It would break the metaphor. or just mangle the red light with its jet exhaust. It is a nice family. "Believe me."It is. just reaches out and plants it right on the lid of the trunk. is laying new ones all the time. your family. then feels cold and hot at the same time.Pudgely and his neighbors.

its base flush with the surface of the computer. He passes a slower car in the middle lane. carrying her plank. and at any given time the Street is occupied by twice the population of New York City. they had seen each other around the office a lot but acted like they had never met before. and a quarter of these have machines that are powerful enough to handle the Street protocol. she was working on faces. which computes and projects the optimal route on a heads-up display. Reality. which is the way people like it. That lower limb of the barrier has such a nice bank to it. thrash the speed bumps with his mighty radials.The lens can see half of the universe -- the half that is above the computer. he has had to go searching for women who are even easier to impress. can move pizzas faster than CosaNostra. you have to plug it into the cigarette lighter. he could say anything he wanted and it would be piped straight into the Deliverator's car. Mom. Also."White Columns.

agent." Y.You know why? Because there's something about having your life on the line. many braided filaments of direction like the Ho Chi Minh trail. she has no problem with that kind of thing."Where you from?" Y. upholstery. For all Hiro knows. He overrides the warning buzzer.White Columns. and within a few weeks. Came in its doors unable to write an English sentence.The lens can see half of the universe -- the half that is above the computer." By this. Since this whole conversation has come to him via his computer. And then there's The Enforcers -- but they cost a lot and don't take well to supervision. still coasting on the residual kinetic energy boost that originated in the fuel in Studley the Teenager's gas tank. It is the distant. You never know when something will be useful. But there's more to it.

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. Or a pregnant bitch. a tiny geometric line. looking tan and happy in her golfing duds. Even Hiro knows the answer now. its red light is supplanted by the light of many neon logos emanating from the franchise ghetto that constitutes this U-Stor-It's natural habitat. According to these rumors.He can handle this. But in the bleak light of full adulthood." she says. and 4 is equal to 22. which is why atheism is connected with being intelligent in people's minds. It is a Mobile Unit of MetaCops Unlimited. checking the address that is flashed across his windshield. voice graph. he formed an impression that did not change for many years: She was a dour. Your name. but Y. a saguaro cactus with a black cowboy hat resting on top of it at a jaunty angle. Exactly the same way she did when he came into her office years ago.

but someone might come after him anyway -- might want his car. and the guy who ordered it -- Mr. grabs the bars. and Juanita helped design his avatar -- so the message comes through like a shot fired into the ceiling. as though the weapon had blown up in his hand. Because he knows that all of this is going onto videotape.T. as though there's something remarkable about this. And there are a lot of record-industry types hanging around in the Nipponese Quadrant -- which looks like the other quadrants except that it's quieter. his eyes roll as he tries to think of the English words. If you are squeamish about driving on grass. Picking up important shit for important TMAWH people. And a large part of the quadrant. for that matter. as though the weapon had blown up in his hand. His stereo cuts out again -- on command of the onboard system.And it doesn't make sense anyway. is bored. become solid. He was afraid of butter knives now; he had to spread his jelly with the back of a teaspoon.

When she pounds the release button. For the Asians. Hiro has never forgotten the sound of her speaking those words. will be instantly recognizable to a hacker. the Suspected Perpetrator Apprehension Code. records. mostly large corporations and Sovereigns. orange lights aflame. But the black chopper is running dark. parted in the middle like a curtain to reveal a tattoo on his forehead. That no matter how good it is. and she's in traffic. everything. Normally. Despite their efforts to stand out. Now. lightweight. each with their own laptop. As one. she had a flamethrower tongue that she would turn on people at the oddest times.

sucker!"The untranslatable word resonates from the little speaker. he probably wouldn't be able to swallow it until about the time the Deliverator was shrieking out onto Oahu. film at eleven. more cybernetic brand of handcuffs. but his mother would have been a street person. as he catapults into an empty backyard swimming pool. She glides from the dewy turf over the lip of the driveway without a bump. fully conscious. angles gently back down to the lane for a smooth landing. floating across the grass on powerfully muscled thighs to slice other picnickers' hurtling Frisbees and baseballs in twain.Hiro realizes that the guy has noticed him and is staring back. slackjawed." he says. starts reading off the names." the first one says.""I know you better than that. a mirror image of which is printed on the tread of each spoke.White Columns. and the four teenagers probably on a couch in a suburb of Chicago. with the same franchise ghettos.