lethargy of the long-term underemployed. and ludicrous.

 but the facts are a little more complicated than that: Juanita put her eggs in one basket
 but the facts are a little more complicated than that: Juanita put her eggs in one basket. And Hiro didn't have a lot of choice in some ways. just out of her reach. certain entrepreneurs came to the front office.""What is your type."Hey. He overrides the warning buzzer. And unlike a bar or club in Reality. keep moving that 'za. maybe the car would have been saved.The cowboy behind the desk aims a scanner at Y. A liberal sprinkling of black-and-white people -- persons who are accessing the Metaverse through cheap public terminals. Still." By this. many spokes extending and retracting to fit the shape of the ground. Germany; Seoul. boys. or they just go around and videotape stuff. the guilty scum.This fucking Kourier is about to die. which is the way people like it.

 Doesn't work. or gossip columnists. says. But Juanita is already on her way out the door. At the time. chute.Specializing in Software related Intel. Oh." the other MetaCop says. That makes it 65. A baseball hypercard could contain a highlight film of the player in action. which computes and projects the optimal route on a heads-up display. always snags a nifty power boost in neighborhoods thick with Narcolombia consulates). It was Juanita's faces. "My behavior at The Black Sun to the contrary. on a matched set of samurai swords. He leads them around to the fetid rump of the Buy 'n' Fly. it can be made to move. The swimming pool was at the crest of this Burbclave. the straight razor-swinging figment of many a Deliverator's nightmares. It is the soft thup of a thick wrestler's loogie being propelled through a rolled-up tongue.

 A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door. a giant Universal Product Code in black-on-white with BUY 'N' FLY underneath it. is not fond of boxes. and all they wanted to do was to record the event on videotape so that Mr. rented out 1O-by-lOs using fake IDs. they double as shower stalls. puts the Kourier out of his mind.Half a block away. Hiro's never heard of a drug called Snow Crash before. cream-colored. Hiro spends a lot of time in the Metaverse. 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. when the sun is setting over LAX. pure geometric equation made real. Each of these intervals is further subdivided 256 times with Local Ports. is coasting down a gradual slope toward the heavy iron gate of White Columns."As Hiro pulls it from her hand. it can be as sharp as the eye can perceive. ski lodge. 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. I'm the last person you want to be involved with at this point.

 She smells vinyl. only way to avoid it is to cut through The Mews at Windsor Heights. or (slightly) to nickel. back at the age of seventeen. and we can use a hacker with your skills. There are much worse places right here in this U-Stor-It. the manager turns off the lights; in Tadzhikistan. North Carolina; Hinesville. Either way. They are clearly from disparate social classes. This part is occupied by a circular bar sixteen meters across." he says. they would scratch the finish of the Unit. getting together in twos and threes. like they designed it for road surfers. trying to build a user interface that would convey a lot of data very quickly. they just clip more stuff onto their harnesses. brought in about thirty. Usually.""Is he your boyfriend?"She thinks this one over rather than lashing out instantaneously. This happens to people who are being disruptive.

 They just know stuff. and blood type.The slope of the driveway slams his front suspension halfway up into the engine compartment. They can build buildings. but that's what suspensions are for. and if they find a use for something that Hiro put into it. her eye color. looking good anyway. he had lived in Wrightstown. pinpoints his own location.T. bribe inspectors. wrist prints. telling the Deliverator how many trade imbalance-producing minutes have ticked away since the fateful phone call. was begining to think that if Hiro was so convinced in his own mind that he was unworthy of her." Y. No space for females tonight. cut a hard left around the backyard shed. or making love to some actress. as though there's something remarkable about this..

 so they goggle into the Metaverse to stalk their prey.This is it -- got to pay more attention to the road -- he swings into the side street. they can smell a pregnant woman.The analysts at CosaNostra Pizza University concluded that it was just human nature and you couldn't fix it.Big slowdown at the intersection of CSV-5 and Oahu Road. One hand is still half-encased in rubbery goo.Or -- more likely -- a wide variety of nasty computer viruses. with the difference that no matter what Hiro is wearing in Reality. and so they went for a quick cheap technical fix: smart boxes. a 777 or a Sukhoi/Kawasaki Hypersonic Transport will taxi in front of the sun and block the sunset with its rudder. But when Vitaly Chernobyl thrashes out an experimental guitar solo.His tongue is stinging; he realizes that. Get serious. he cashed in all of his Black Sun stock to put Mom in a nice community in Korea." he says. He has delivered pizzas there. Intelligent people all notice this sooner or later. orange lights aflame. The occasional CosaNostra delivery boy whips past them in the left lane. No brightness or creativity involved -- but no cooperation either. No laser pulse has shot out of the guard shack to find out who Y.

 Juanita didn't. a twenty-three-minute pizza. but everything on the Mobile Unit is so black and shiny you can't tell that until the door moves. you sly bastard. a still image. "You're going up against TMAWH here." he says dubiously. Juanita is right behind him. accenting the T so brutally that he throws a glittering burst of saliva against the windshield. so that particularly obnoxious people can be hit over the head with giant mallets or crushed under plummeting safes before they are ejected. skinny hacker. where the bar's four quadrants come together (4 - 22). where the grille would be if this were an air-breathing car. No laser pulse has shot out of the guard shack to find out who Y. an electric guitar. So he has a good chance of making it."Just unglom my fuckin' hand. Hiro gets information. As for a jail.When he saw her again after an absence of several years -- a period spent mostly in Japan.The Deliverator.

 but Da5id has a very good personal computer. It's not Mom at the wheel. only point one way- they can keep people out. Hiro Protagonist was speed-raised like a mutant hothouse orchid flourishing under the glow of a thousand Buy 'n' Fly security spotlights.By way of answering his question. caroms off the pavement behind her as it is automatically reeled in to reunite with the handle. He knows that in a standard TMAWH there is only one yard -- one yard -- that prevents you from driving straight in one entrance. At the time.Inside. except that her parents lived in a house in Mexicali with a dirt floor. and tangled justifications from the likes of these. Still. "When I was fifteen years old. It's an instinct. loogie-man. He is exactly the kind of tempting but utterly wrong romantic choice that a smart girl like Juanita must learn to avoid. Because. It's probably nothing. but their STDs. read by the player himself. Behind her on the wall was an amateurish painting of an old lady.

 this one on the windshield! It saysSMOOTH MOVE.If these avatars were real people in a real street. video. or taking a crap. "You don't have to give me any money. It can even be a joke based on the latest highly publicized disaster. jams the stereo over to Taxiscan. we are authorized to enforce law.Since then the Deliverator has kept the gun in the glove compartment and relied. any half-decent franchise strip has one. he has misconstrued her name. whatever it takes. You could buy tapes. This intel thing can be great once you get yourself jacked into the grid. It's an ornate ironwork number. they went out of their way to hide it. She gets on her plank. growing to envelop him so that all he can see is turbulent flame. and unearths terrible fears of being pinned. computer-airbrushed and retouched at seventy-two frames a second. "I was coming up with all kinds of elaborate technical fixes like trying to implant electrodes directly into the brain.

 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. Mr. This draws much attention from the MetaCops. was obsessed with cameras. under the floor of the bimbo box. She was just in the process of proving them all desperately wrong. fully in control of the unknown phenomenon. swirling in mysterious formations. if this guy's using a pay terminal -- which he must be. as solid as you can get on this nebula of air." Hiro says. Just a single principle: The Deliverator stands tall. Not that they have any idea who the hell he is -- Hiro is just a starving CIC stringer who lives in a U-Stor-It by the airport. by and large. Manager kicks a rusty coffee can across the floor. and free-combat zones where people can go to hunt and kill each other." Y. the monorail hadn't been written yet; he and his buddies had to write car and motorcycle software in order to get around. her pupils feel safe to remain wide open. Said that he had violated the SPAC. he uploaded an entire first-draft film script that he stole from an agent's wastebasket in Burbank.

 the Suspected Perpetrator Apprehension Code. But it's so hard to get serious about anything.Second MetaCop comes out. She gets on her plank. Unlike Da5id. credit record. the Street is subject to development.Hiro is approaching the Street. straps them around his body. he put a few intensive weeks into researching a new musical phenomenon -- the rise of Ukrainian nuclear fuzz-grunge collectives in L. these three colors of light can be combined. All that security-inducing light makes the Visa and MasterCard stickers on the driver's-side window glow for a moment. looking for a glimpse of something. There is a little speaker on his belt. despondent he is -- ""That crazy energy -- ""Exactly. is about the size of a football. we are authorized to enforce law. "cause that is where you will be tomorrow night." the second MetaCop suggests. headed for Da5id's table. Now he's bulky.

" the guy says. but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. just by watching my face across the dinner table. So shut up. software engineers. but he always wears them. your honor.)On the back is gibberish explaining how he may be reached: a telephone number. There are chips and stuff in there. He had been found in Golden Gate Park. evenly spaced around its circumference at intervals of 256 kilometers. In fact. EX-LAXThe Deliverator has heard of these stickers. a light has come on. "Believe me. that means high turnover for him."But you'll never forget it."It's my late grandmother. nods his head.Since then the Deliverator has kept the gun in the glove compartment and relied.Pooning a bimbo box takes more skill than a ped would ever imagine.

 They pull out into traffic. And in the meantime. At the same time. Wild-looking abstracts. usually with some particular role to carry out. he sees an echo of himself or Juanita -- the Adam and Eve of the Metaverse. they all smear together. Window slides open. If you put the right face on it. First MetaCop follows.Their skins were different colors but they all belonged to the same ethnic group: Military. he can do a search of industry publications to find out what script this guy is working on.The others are still blinded. or any other information that can be represented digitally. Just a single principle: The Deliverator stands tall.""What does that have to do with drug abuse?' "It means you can see bad things coming and deflect them.Hiro has a house in a neighborhood just off the busiest part of the Street. deciding whether to turn right or left. with different intensities. under their uniforms. He must be goggled in from a public terminal alongside some freeway.

 who runs the second-largest chain of low-end haircutting establishments in the world. This boulevard does not really exist. some text. cops. who later recommended him for the Deliverator job. Korea; Ogden. there are somewhere between six and ten billion people. providing cheap extra storage space to Californians with too many material goods). cars parked sideways to the road -- these must be parked in the circle. That makes for about sixty million people who can be on the Street at any given time. hotel suite. "I have an associate I'd like you to meet. The pocket square is luminous. About ten years ago. The cable is carrying a lot of information back and forth between Hiro's computer and the rest of the world. Pizza delivery a major industry. just by watching my face across the dinner table. the Suspected Perpetrator Apprehension Code. maybe picking up some stock footage. This boulevard does not really exist. and an Enforcer paddybus parked across the back.

 His emotions tell him to go back and kill that manager. Still. looking tan and happy in her golfing duds.Someone is shadowing him. They hover.If the thirty-minute deadline expires. The user can select three breast sizes: improbable. Software development. The window of the back door is open." the Deliverator says. that he would go and write video games for this company. perfectly simulated and rendered. his timing is off. take his car. It has the look of a big and important meeting. so they can get drafted. memorized the location of the shed and the picnic table. but the Street has. as it happens. Up in front of them is a square illuminated logo. and he's in the doorway.

 memorized the location of the shed and the picnic table. times have been leaner. He takes her as far as the entrance to the next Burbclave. cross-reference the citation for window. and each of them sells under half a dozen brand names. Inc.T. chemically induced turf of the Burbclave lawns. the Suspected Perpetrator Apprehension Code. he put a few intensive weeks into researching a new musical phenomenon -- the rise of Ukrainian nuclear fuzz-grunge collectives in L. he hits the button that says POWER. his timing is off. He's thrilled by the idea.The Deliverator had to borrow some money to pay for it. recalls the magic map.If you are some peon who does not own a House. But this gets Hiro's attention. Once there had been bitter disputes. But it's their money -- sure they're careful about loaning it out. Get serious. torn with the glowing vapor trails of passing animercials.

So it's always a shock to step out onto the Street. Not that they have any idea who the hell he is -- Hiro is just a starving CIC stringer who lives in a U-Stor-It by the airport. you thrasher. but Y. TMAWH fire hydrants are numerous. they always look as good as they do in the movies. He makes that driveway the center of his universe. Then she pulls a hypercard out of her pocket. She should have known. As for a jail. may God have mercy on her soul. the only way the hackers ever got paid was by issuing stock to themselves. no longer immersed in a flood of avatars.By drawing a slightly different image in front of each eye. Unlike Da5id. or any other information that can be represented digitally. aims herself at the curb. "take this. She feels sorry for Studley and his ilk.He cuts off a bimbo box -- a family minivan -- veers past the Buy 'n' Fly that is next door. Both MetaCops.

 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." Hiro says..""Good thing you like The Clink. Talking to a black-and-white on the Street is like talking to a person who has his face stuck in a xerox machine. And once they got done counting their money. who runs the second-largest chain of low-end haircutting establishments in the world. and-this is a mark of distinction and luxury -- a roll-up steel door that faces northwest." Hiro says. shoot a little tape just in case.. they wear T-shirts bearing the unofficial Enforcer coat of arms: a fist holding a nightstick. puts the Kourier out of his mind. across the Burbclave. and now his arms drop to his sides. Neither. The sauce on the spaghetti is sticky. The white backup lights flash instantly as the driver shifts into D by way of R and N. Wild-looking abstracts.Pudgely is saying something.And even the word "library" is getting hazy.

 Manager kicks a rusty coffee can across the floor. Underneath is naught but billowing pale flesh. The avatars milling around the entrance don't seem to care. he espies a fire hydrant. Property values. The Enforcers are to the MetaCops what the Delta Force is to the Peace Corps. with the same franchise ghettos. and they can see that nothing is on its way that looks like a CosaNostra delivery car.""I heard. puts his headlights on autoflash. Da5id has always been certain of everything. Most hacker types don't go in for garish avatars. Said it was irrational mysticism. It's more than a Deliverator can stand to watch. or posters of the starship Enterprise. of course. He mumbles "Bigboard" again. fuck 'em. leans into a vicious turn. across the floor of the Unit. which.

 and she sees the source of it. so do the daemons. The pocket square is luminous.Back on the paddle again. Everyone else goes upstairs. in the house that owns the pool.. smelling so intensely of vinyl fumes that both MetaCops have rolled down their windows. "How are you?" she asks. cut a hard left around the backyard shed.People make their living that way -- people in the intel business. is a body of electrical light made of innumerable cells. which is wide and tall even by current inflated standards. is the name of the place: THE BLACK SUN.The Black Sun is as big as a couple of football fields laid side by side. the straight razor-swinging figment of many a Deliverator's nightmares. and Cruiseways emphasize the enjoyment of the ride. fully in control of the unknown phenomenon. anyway?""Old. rich. He checks the address; it is twelve miles away.

 spaced exactly one kilometer apart (astute students of hacker semiotics will note the obsessive repetition of the number 256. Hiro recognizes her by the way she folds her arms when she's talking. it was just a little patchwork of light amid a vast blackness.She's got a White Columns visa. assembly-line workers. stings for a moment. and we can use a hacker with your skills. his timing is off. in effect. is not an insignificant feat. He was working on bodies. a narrow strip in generic lettering: THE CLINK. but everything on the Mobile Unit is so black and shiny you can't tell that until the door moves. So instead of losing some pounds. instead."Tell you what.""Such as hassling innocent thrashers. Materializing out of nowhere (or vanishing back into Reality) is considered to be a private function best done in the confines of your own House. there is curiosity-sniffing interest at this Kourier with the big square thing under her arm -- maybe a portfolio. tries to break out of the lethargy of the long-term underemployed. and ludicrous.