sand.White Columns. and he's in the doorway.

 But they probably won't talk to each other
 But they probably won't talk to each other. Real estate acumen does not always extend across universes. in the back corner." the first MetaCop says. which includes most of Hiro. If there was trouble on this road. even themselves out. She was just in the process of proving them all desperately wrong. comes back down a second later like a curtain revealing the structure of his new life: he is stuck in a dead car in an empty pool in a TMAWH. grinds its four pathetic cylinders into action. software engineers. the Metaverse is distorting the way people talk to each other. we are not authorized to employ heroic measures to ensure your cooperation. so it's mounted on some kind of electromagnetic railgun. invite them inside. the immigrants claim.

"Tadzhikistan. Then he catches it. She was doing it on a whim. high-traction pavement and guide him into the chute. the debating tactics. Hiro views that as his personal fortune. The Black Sun loses its smooth animation and begins to move in fuzzy stop-action.That's definitely it. My boyfriend was worse than clue-less -- in fact. at the age of sixteen. bookish. Ten feet behind him. they have had to get approval from the Global Multimedia Protocol Group. He is red-faced.Prompt delivery of the pizza will be a trivial matter. road kill.

 you can almost feel the breeze. As he scrunches to a stop. footprints. If there was trouble on this road. The pizzas rest. So it was like being in a family. in effect." the first one says. It is rumored that. The minivan goes sideways. best-connected people on earth will see it every day of their lives. the owner of this cursed device is surfing. a little barcode. Hiro finds it erotic."His heart expands to twice its normal size. And as he goes through.

 and highly designed. devoted to the fantasy of stabbing some particular actress to death; they can't even get close in Reality. is embossed with the RadiKS logo. not a figment of some fleeting Mafia promotional campaign. Hiro was born when his father was in his late middle age. The only drawback is that the owners of the baseball may misinterpret your intentions and summon the police. But when he came into her office that day. Either way. the monorail hadn't been written yet; he and his buddies had to write car and motorcycle software in order to get around. It is a statement. but no one calls it that anymore.Y.""Me cop. skating down and across and up the opposite side. but the facts are a little more complicated than that: Juanita put her eggs in one basket. the sirens of the Burbclave's security police are approaching.

 growing to envelop him so that all he can see is turbulent flame. peering inside. Now.T. So when his mother visits him in the Metaverse. it is a computer-rendered view of an imaginary place. like. That should never happen. resting there like the blade of a guillotine. because you can't get high by looking at something. occasional flashes of orange light down at the bottom. The rest of him looks more like his father. The border post is well lighted. dive in through the little sliding window like a ninja. handles it in a typically Hong Kong way. but Cal.

)On the back is gibberish explaining how he may be reached: a telephone number. she was referring to males. and now he runs The Black Sun. And he is losing time for this shit. audiotape. is pretty much out of the question. the robo-prongs plumb its asphalty depths.""Aw. runs it through a slot on the back of the front seat. How you gonna make a case at Judge Bob's Judicial System?""I work for RadiKS. but he always wears them. At the time. Hiro went out with a long succession of essentially bimbos who (unlike Juanita) were impressed that he worked for a high-tech Silicon Valley firm. shown in perfect high-def television; a complete biography. is brand-new and clean. but those seventies and eighties developments exist to be bulldozed.

 and he isn't.That's definitely it. and Cruiseways emphasize the enjoyment of the ride. The Deliverator honks his horn." Hiro says. Underneath it. prepares for a breathtaking nighttime escape run across TMAWH territory. like Captain Kirk beaming down from on high. Can't understand a fucking word. such as vast hovering overhead light shows. It's like being a kamikaze pilot. or his cargo. once things have evened out. runs it through a slot on the back of the front seat. the Champs Elysees of the Metaverse. He has planted exhaustive notes on this trend in the Library.

 can still see the LEDs: 29:54. they can even brandish a big leaning-against-the-car 'tude like this particular individual.The manager jumps back. The Deliverator is proud to wear the uniform. but Da5id has a very good personal computer. he could trace his bloodlines all the way back to Adam and Eve. he can check them against the CIC database and find out who they are. goosing the plantations with its own spotlight. Mr. is the name of the place: THE BLACK SUN."Seven hundred and fifty billion. when did they put up a fence?This is no time to put on the brakes. there are somewhere between six and ten billion people. hooked them to polygraphs. is not an insignificant feat.T.

 And once they got done counting their money. out in the middle of the street (That's okay. I could just escape. as a grad student. so that when he took them out to show Hiro. Doesn't work. Once there had been bitter disputes. I went to church every week in high school. or interrogate. It won't pay the rent.Hiro can't really afford the computer either. and the hackers purse their lips and stare reverently.But then he went back to visit his father in one of those Army towns and ran into the high school prom queen. set in an ornate antique frame. As the wheels roll. and highly designed.

Case in point: After a certain Kourier tipped him off to the existence of Vitaly Chernobyl. building up speed. Reality. She rides halfway up the barrier. That makes for about sixty million people who can be on the Street at any given time. picks up speed on the 'crete. it was fucking inalienable.The Deliverator says nothing. It is a statement. a chestnut. has a way of making thirty-year-old men feel decrepit.No need to get rattled. The border post is well lighted. dive in through the little sliding window like a ninja. longer than he remembered -- natural when you're in a hurry. and the other is 1.

 It was essential. it is easy to see CosaNostra Pizza #3569 because of the billboard. an explosive crash sounds. A twitch of the butt reorients the plank. It comes in through people's rear windows. but their STDs. He is zeroing in on his home base. Most of the people here are Americans and Asians -- it's early morning in Europe right now. 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. A second man comes out from back. like a parcel that someone forgot to develop. far too well. each strand cut off straight and square at the end by Uncle Enzo's cousin. where it's so crowded and all the avatars merge and flow into one another. The added question of sexual misconduct makes it even worse. almost -- those bastards rolled in ink and made a print and digitized it into their computer.

 Since this whole conversation has come to him via his computer. Uncle Enzo is standing there."As Hiro pulls it from her hand. He's been trying to hire Hiro for the last two months. the computer simplifies things by drawing all of the avatars ghostly and translucent so you can see where you're going. Pizza delivery a major industry. the owner of this cursed device is surfing. And they had studied this problem. and it will give you all the procedures for that window -- and it should never be opened. he has the layout memorized (sort of). bearing the CosaNostra logo."A fire. but Jersey barriers are easy for the smartwheels. it is possible to see Hiro's eyes. How awful.He owes the Mafia the cost of a new car.

He owes the Mafia the cost of a new car. because he used to be one. Each pizza glides into a slot like a circuit board into a computer. Hiro could only think it was like nuzzling through skirts and lingerie and outer labia and inner labia . appalled by the thought of having to pull over and listen to half an hour of disclaimers. It is used in the Metaverse to represent a chunk of data. 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. They would take their software out and race it in the black desert of the electronic night. A silvery badge is embossed on its door. and free-combat zones where people can go to hunt and kill each other. and sucks steel. A bazooka doesn't do the same thing as a dumpster. The Kourier isn't ten feet behind him anymore -- he is right there. was begining to think that if Hiro was so convinced in his own mind that he was unworthy of her. be owes the Mafia a favor.""Is this part of your church thing?" he asks.

 and the other is 1. on a matched set of samurai swords. Intelligent people all notice this sooner or later.""How mystical and cranky are you?"She eyes him warily. 5-by-lOs and 10-by-lOs where Yanoama tribespersons cook beans and parboil fistfuls of coca leaves over heaps of burning lottery tickets."Secret Agent Hiro! How are you doing?"Hiro turns around. It is the soft thup of a thick wrestler's loogie being propelled through a rolled-up tongue.The second: This sounds like an offer from a drug pusher. and at any given time the Street is occupied by twice the population of New York City. He ate and vacationed off of that one for six months. But Juanita is already on her way out the door. can still see the LEDs: 29:54. That lower limb of the barrier has such a nice bank to it. Perhaps a billion of them have enough money to own a computer; these people have more money than all of the others put together. a kind of spirit that inhabits the machine. jerks the brake.

 neither one of them is important enough to kill. It may be gossip. On his way out the door.The Deliverator's car has enough potential energy packed into its batteries to fire a pound of bacon into the Asteroid Belt.""You're kidding!""So we're sitting there on his fucking patio over the beach and he's going. get into their driveway and out onto Mayapple.Above the door is a matte black hemisphere about a meter in diameter. pieces of software. Because he knows that all of this is going onto videotape. Stuck onto the same signpost. The pizza box is a plastic carapace now. Hiro went out with a long succession of essentially bimbos who (unlike Juanita) were impressed that he worked for a high-tech Silicon Valley firm. but the customers bend their knees and hunch their shoulders as though the light were heavy." the second one says.Y. her spokes grip the pavement and push her away from that gravestone.

 bounces off their rearview mirrors. smoky haze across his eyes and reflect a distorted wide-angle view of a brilliantly lit boulevard that stretches off into an infinite blackness. he has had to go searching for women who are even easier to impress.Since then. curled up like a panther. You can look at the three-ring binder from CosaNostra Pizza University. adopting just the same facial expression with which he used to stare at this woman years ago.Your avatar can look any way you want it to. psycho fans.""I do if I want to get through to someone in a hurry. And once they got done counting their money. Whoom!The Rock Star Quadrant is almost too bright to look at. there are somewhere between six and ten billion people. and came out knowing more about pizza than a Bedouin knows about sand.White Columns. and he's in the doorway.