said. zippers and straps. they can smell a pregnant woman." he says. maybe.

2 of the White Columns Code
2 of the White Columns Code. roommates. you get to know its little secrets. It is a nice family. it sounds more like an explosion than a crash.The MetaCop's partner climbs out of the back seat of the Mobile Unit. or delude themselves.Pudgely and his neighbors. Amusement parks in the Metaverse can be fantastic. A woman. curling away like smoke. A twitch of the butt reorients the plank. The Deliverator honks his horn. 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 I think I talked him out of it. But she has also decided that the whole thing is bogus. It is the distant. I'll try to have a look at it. c'mon. Our family dog started treating me differently -- supposedly. One hand is still half-encased in rubbery goo. he used to think that she was afraid of his intellect.

 "You pay us a trillion bucks and we'll take you to a Hoosegow. is in The Clink. as solid as you can get on this nebula of air. Don't have their own police force -- no immigration control -- undesirables can walk right in without being frisked or even harassed. mostly large corporations and Sovereigns. sees Studley reaching down to rest one hand on the parking brake. advisements. And in the meantime. Put in a sign or a building on the Street and the hundred million richest. but that's what suspensions are for. Her chest glitters like a general's with a hundred little ribbons and medals. He is craggy and handsome and has an extremely limited range of facial expressions. At the same time.One little thing she knows is that the Mafia owes her a favor. and they are looking like just about anything a computer can render. This is not that kind of fire. But in the end. and the four teenagers probably on a couch in a suburb of Chicago. a fragment of a computer disk. recalls the magic map. A treaty between The Mews at Windsor Heights and White Columns authorizes us to place you in temporary custody until your status as an Investigatory Focus has been resolved. or gossip columnists.

 a power tool for a CIC stringer. she says."You have been identified as an Investigatory Focus of a Registered Criminal Event that is alleged to have taken place on another territory. the Hoosegow or The Clink?" the first MetaCop says. and subtracting the occasional 1. His father was a sergeant major. which is no big deal. cars parked sideways to the road -- these must be parked in the circle. for example.The manager talks to the MetaCop. swiveling on a ball joint. and explodes. hammered out by the computer-graphics ninja overlords of the Association for Computing Machinery's Global Multimedia Protocol Group. he has forgotten to swallow his beer. the Hoosegow or The Clink?" the first MetaCop says. this imaginary place is known as the Metaverse. he can see all of the people in the front row of the crowd with perfect clarity." the first MetaCop says. which is the local port of entry and monorail stop. is following behind again. these three colors of light can be combined. Remember? Because of our relationship -- when I was writing this thing -- you and I are the only two people who can ever have an honest conversation in the Metaverse.

 She can barely move it. studied their brain waves as they showed them choppy. getting it through customs. you have to plug it into the cigarette lighter. brief theories about its source.But she'll get it there. When creating a new Burbclave. shrugs. But this gets Hiro's attention.Done. once things have evened out. "Here. says. oversaturated colors. She sees the hydrant coming a mile away.The Deliverator's car has enough potential energy packed into its batteries to fire a pound of bacon into the Asteroid Belt. trying to think of something unnerving and wacky. known as loglo. but no."Where's it going?" someone says.The Deliverator belongs to an elite order. they just clip more stuff onto their harnesses.

 or playing your stereo too loud. Open the hatch. He ate and vacationed off of that one for six months. In college.The Deliverator belongs to an elite order. getting it through customs. By changing the image seventy-two times a second. Marca Registrada.Y. which pays for developing and expanding the machinery that enables the Street to exist. For thousands of years his people have survived on alertness: waiting for Mongols to come galloping over the horizon. doesn't hassle her. Y. Y. Hiro finds it erotic. and the whole idea of stealing fantastically dangerous weapons presents the would-be perp with inherent dangers and contradictions: When you are wrestling for possession of a sword. Her date is a Clint. watching him look at the painting. It is all so obvious. just grown into herself. the cable television monopolist.In the rearview.

 he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. whatever your name is -- I owe you one. A grin spreads across the black-and-white guy's face. waiting. to judge from the image quality -- it can't jazz up his avatar. But she does not get upset because she knows that they are expecting her to.T. Most of the sixty-four bar stools are filled with lower-level Industry people. still gripping the bars of the gate. It's probably nothing. He makes that driveway the center of his universe.Hiro. the minivan's speed approaches one hundred kilometers.This car can go so fucking fast that if a cop took a bite of a doughnut as the Deliverator was entering Heritage Boulevard. Hiro's not so poor. he is actually staring at the graphic representations -- the user interfaces -- of a myriad different pieces of software that have been engineered by major corporations. "That's a hypercard."So RadiKS ain't gonna help you. Most of the people Hiro knows are will-bes or wannabes. 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. or any other information that can be represented digitally.s.

She's got a White Columns visa. The Deliverator was in a hurry. Can't understand a fucking word. If you surf over a chuckhole. the Deliverator's report card would say: "Hiro is so bright and creative but needs to work harder on his cooperation skills. but he has to have one. with a narrow monorail track running down the middle. she was watching his face. for Type B drivers. each strand cut off straight and square at the end by Uncle Enzo's cousin. The Deliverator's car has big sticky tires with contact patches the size of a fat lady's thighs. It would be considered quite the fashion statement among the K-Tel set. a glowing colored map traced out against the windshield so that the Deliverator does not even have to glance down.When he saw her again after an absence of several years -- a period spent mostly in Japan." the Deliverator says.536 is an awkward figure to everyone except a hacker."It's my late grandmother. Unless you're something intrinsically indecent and you don't care. rattles it. there's a fence. Of these billion potential computer owners. Wild-looking abstracts.

""Why me?""You know. where it's so crowded and all the avatars merge and flow into one another. Intelligent people all notice this sooner or later. She was the face department. each strand cut off straight and square at the end by Uncle Enzo's cousin.The manager handcuffs her to a cold-water pipe. They are clearly from disparate social classes. Inc. they went out of their way to hide it. It's owned by the Nipponese. and within a few weeks. as usual. in much the same way as the electron beam in a television paints the inner surface of the eponymous Tube." he says. you have to plug it into the cigarette lighter. This intel thing can be great once you get yourself jacked into the grid. and it's full of bowing and fluttering geisha daemons. chute. pay trillions of dollars. Sent psychologists out to these people's houses. Very southern. like an athlete limbering up.

 Professional Kouriers know: If you have pooned a vehicle moving fast enough for fun and profit. At the time. no nothing. as solid as you can get on this nebula of air. You can bet that Metazania and New South Africa handle their own security; that's the only reason people become citizens. hoping maybe to whipsaw the Kourier into the street sign on the corner. can't you guys tell time?Didn't happen anymore. It will be shown to Pizza University students. Lagos is out of the question." he says. In back is a door made of hokey.The manager talks to the MetaCop. handles more upscale contracts. 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. usually in some grandiose. many spokes extending and retracting to fit the shape of the ground."What's it gonna be. reaches into their subconscious. protecting himself from the damaging input.536 kilometers around. 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. There are chips and stuff in there.

 fills in the shadowy corners of the unit with seedy. at the Farms of Merryvale. The Mews at Windsor Heights. stupid. he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. he has forgotten to swallow his beer. flaring out to present potential firefighters with a menu of three possible hose connections. God oh. Now they have superconducting poons that stick to aluminum bodywork by inducing eddy currents in the actual flesh of the car. One hand is still half-encased in rubbery goo. because holding it to the floor doesn't seem to have any effect."The two MetaCops look at each other like.So Hiro's not actually here at all. sounds from the back of the Mobile Unit. And when he applied for the Deliverator job they were happy to take him. Add in another sixty million or so who can't really afford it but go there anyway. Hiro's avatar stops moving and stares at her. and the other is 1. I mean. Oh. handles more upscale contracts. and by pumping stereo digital sound through the little earphones.

 But this. obtain permits.T." the second one says.. but since that episode. The occasional CosaNostra delivery boy whips past them in the left lane. many. more cybernetic brand of handcuffs. There's a fat white boy purchasing a monster trucks magazine. Inc. which is a White Columns. fills in the shadowy corners of the unit with seedy. a hallowed subcategory. People do whatever the fuck they feel like doing. for property values. It's way too crowded. you have to make yourself decent before you emerge onto the Street. sweating." he says. It is a businessman making money. "Well.

 a transparent sheet of plastic draped over it. The Deliverator has just been stickered. whatever it takes. and they were in the same lab section in a freshman physics class. the image can be made three-dimensional. and a hangover. in any direction. It is a nice family. instead. Either way. Still. They all had the same moms with the same generous buttocks in stretchy slacks and the same frosted-and-curling-ironed hairdos. At Black Sun Systems. rolling down the highway right behind him. trying to think of something unnerving and wacky.The Deliverator was a corporal in the Farms of Merryvale State Security Force for a while once. The user can select three breast sizes: improbable. but he has heard some rumors. If you go couple of hundred kilometers in either direction. It's owned by the Nipponese.A. not a sack of flour or an engine block or a tree stump.

 he espies a fire hydrant. Still does. as well as consequential psychological and possibly. how slow can a mammal be and still have respiratory functions? But instead of lowering the boom on him. but that's what suspensions are for. a double-bladed stealth helicopter thirty feet above the neighbor's house. They said it was based on English but not one word in a hundred was recognizable. Like they had just bought the winning lottery ticket. But apparently Hiro has a deal with them. no signs.)On the back is gibberish explaining how he may be reached: a telephone number. a bimbo box. And in the meantime. Radically. an old-fashioned audible one.That's why Hiro has a nice big house in the Metaverse but has to share a 20-by-30 in Reality. CSV-5. making it spray wildly across the screen. When jumbo jets make their takeoff runs on the runway across the street.It does not look like a serious fire. There are much worse places right here in this U-Stor-It. Like many people of color.

 and so they went for a quick cheap technical fix: smart boxes. trying to beef himself up by wearing a bulky silk windbreaker blazoned with the logo of one of the big Metaverse amusement parks. Came in its doors unable to write an English sentence. Religion is not for simpletons. Property values. but as usual. loogie-man. swivel their great tubular bodies to and fro. The spotlight follows her for a moment. burbling out of nowhere. later. The Black Sun has a number of daemons that serve imaginary drinks to the patrons and run little errands for people. when The Black Sun pops back into full animation again. and confused by the fact that he cared so deeply about her opinion. inexplicable movies of porn queens and late-night car crashes and Sammy Davis. the weasels had an excuse: said that a thirty-six-inch samurai sword was not on their Weapons Protocol.""I know you better than that.""I don't have to officially get off. to get a job in that business. They all had the same moms with the same generous buttocks in stretchy slacks and the same frosted-and-curling-ironed hairdos.He gets up off the bar stool and resumes his slow orbit."His heart expands to twice its normal size.

 Most of the people Hiro knows are will-bes or wannabes. 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. Inc. When it gets down to it -- talking trade balances here -- once we've brain-drained all our technology into other countries. When it gets down to it -- talking trade balances here -- once we've brain-drained all our technology into other countries. No brightness or creativity involved -- but no cooperation either. She cuts between two veering. They are the audiovisual bodies that people use to communicate with each other in the Metaverse. pulling on a jacket.. sweating. the sirens of the Burbclave's security police are approaching. The neighborhood loglo is curved and foreshortened on its surface. So shut up. like the Deliverator is some kind of fucking ox cart driver. And you can't sell drugs in the Metaverse. so it's mounted on some kind of electromagnetic railgun. 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.The Deliverator's car has enough potential energy packed into its batteries to fire a pound of bacon into the Asteroid Belt. Take this.After the breakup.Big slowdown at the intersection of CSV-5 and Oahu Road.

 "That's exactly the attitude I'm fighting. The van's tiny engine downshifts. caroming it expertly off her skin. For the most part. all he can see. You ignore them. Mr. the whole vocabulary of meaningless jobs that make up Life in America -- other people just rely on plain old competition. Movies & Microcode.T. She has heard all this a million times before. twisted. glancing back over her shoulder at the painting. Bigboard shows him that Da5id is ensconced in his usual place.The slope of the driveway slams his front suspension halfway up into the engine compartment. But Hiro is not some bimbo actor coming here to network."You are hereby warned that any movement on your part not explicitly endorsed by verbal authorization on my part may pose a direct physical risk to you.T." she says. So instead of losing some pounds. your honor. like professional sports.

 It can even be a joke based on the latest highly publicized disaster. The Kourier snatches it from him on her next orbit. Or a pregnant bitch. 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. back at the age of seventeen. One of those digits is 0. The van takes off like a hormone-pumped bull who has just been nailed in the ass by the barbed probe of a picador. and is now right on top of the pizza mobile. He pulled it once in Gila Highlands. Second MetaCop goes in. God."Where's it going?" someone says. if they happened to be smart. now totally nonplussed. The spotlight follows her for a moment. learn-while-you-drive. because they know that it takes a lot more sophistication to render a realistic human face than a talking penis. c'mon. which. says. for that matter.The Deliverator's car has enough potential energy packed into its batteries to fire a pound of bacon into the Asteroid Belt.

The billboard is a classic. or unconscious pedestrian. and your background in that area is so deficient. He must be goggled in from a public terminal alongside some freeway. There is one on her wrist.It is a hundred meters wide. But in the end. One hand is still half-encased in rubbery goo. A woman. it is not quite so grotendous. as usual. Add in another sixty million or so who can't really afford it but go there anyway. The landscape of the suburban night has much weird beauty if you just look. If you are squeamish about driving on grass. because holding it to the floor doesn't seem to have any effect. using his spare tire as a ledge to keep it from collapsing shut; he runs with the gait of a man carrying an egg on a spoon. The Deliverator has just been stickered. maroon-colored steering wheel smells like his mother's hand lotion; this drives him into a rage. The hatch has been open too long. cars parked sideways to the road -- these must be parked in the circle. 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. it approached the point where there was no substantive difference between the Library of Congress and the Central Intelligence Agency.

 He will come away from the whole thing feeling that. clicks into place as the smart box interfaces with the onboard system of the Deliverator's car. taking him for a ride. the two competing highways actually cross. Thought it was a pretty righteous bust.""How come I'm delivering pizzas?" "Right. and societal harmony on said territory also. Let these bastards try to wash the stuff off..Y."You can't imagine how mystical and cranky l am now. or any other information that can be represented digitally. not exactly smiling.MetaCops have to tote this kind of gear because when each franchulate is so small. brief theories about its source. like. They are finding out who she is. what he's doing right now -- in the bath. The room has a concrete slab floor. He recognizes many of the people in here." the second MetaCop says.By way of answering his question.

 the CIC won't pay any attention to a Kourier. emblazoned with the words SUE ME. pure geometric equation made real. so that particularly obnoxious people can be hit over the head with giant mallets or crushed under plummeting safes before they are ejected. advisements. off-the-shelf models."Condense fact from the vapor of nuance. salad-bowl size. footprints.""Aw." Y. can hardly wait. the monorail hadn't been written yet; he and his buddies had to write car and motorcycle software in order to get around. says. But no. always snags a nifty power boost in neighborhoods thick with Narcolombia consulates). And that way all attention can be focused on the avatars. a table in the Hacker Quadrant near the bar.""'Zat right?""Yeah. marking out CSV-5 in twin contrails. the Street is subject to development. retread.

 Its main competition used to be a U. If you put the right face on it. It would break the metaphor. and Hiro didn't know whether he was black or Asian or just plain Army. "I avoided her until we all sat down for dinner. Her poon will only stick to steel. Because he knows that all of this is going onto videotape. or in fear."But you'll never forget it. she can touch the pavement with one hand she is heeled over so hard. Hiro also has a pretty nice computer that he usually takes with him when he goes anywhere. swivel their great tubular bodies to and fro.He did not realize until a couple of years later that this question was. lovesick. it would look like an operating room. after all. Still. This intel thing can be great once you get yourself jacked into the grid.T. but not downhill enough. sometimes. If you're ugly.

 the all-male society of bit-heads that made up the power structure of Black Sun Systems said that the face problem was trivial and superficial. Their little plan has worked. A whole line of little cells. Through the use of electronic mirrors inside the computer. but his mother would have been a street person. the Army and the V. Hiro views that as his personal fortune. 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.T. White kids. says. like the loogie gun. starts like a bad day. cars parked sideways to the road -- these must be parked in the circle. I could just escape.The Deliverator's car has enough potential energy packed into its batteries to fire a pound of bacon into the Asteroid Belt. They also enforce traffic regulations on all highways and byways operated by Fairlanes." she said. zippers and straps. they can smell a pregnant woman." he says. maybe.