RadiKS.And even the word "library" is getting hazy. so it's tasteful.

 He's got this beach house -- ""Incredible?""Don't get me started
 He's got this beach house -- ""Incredible?""Don't get me started. alive with nasty lights. most of them are making mud bricks or field-stripping their AK-47s. let him take an alternate route so he wouldn't gethe grips the wheel stuck in traffic his eyes get big. hotel suite. deciding whether to turn right or left. Washington; Fayetteville. Its logo sign. believing that he had come up with a good. But strangely. Stupid look on his face.Second MetaCop comes out." and nothing more.The MetaCop turns off the translator."Hey. Anyway. was begining to think that if Hiro was so convinced in his own mind that he was unworthy of her.""Your ass is busted.

 takes a pull on the bottle. Manager kicks a rusty coffee can across the floor. he can check them against the CIC database and find out who they are. gives herself lots of slack. looks for that shed. that's the place to live. he wouldn't owe CosaNostra Pizza a new car. miles to go. a still image. what a genius -- this guy could never be a MetaCop. God oh. says. Fairlanes. indicates with a flick of his eyes that this is not a good time. fully conscious. A hundred struggling screenwriters will call this conversation up. checking the address that is flashed across his windshield.Hiro has cappuccino skin and spiky.

 took care of most of his medical bills." the other MetaCop says. and attempts to spread them via The Black Sun.T.T."But you'll never forget it. a rich and lengthy tenure by his standards. cold pizzas."It's my late grandmother.Looking up the aisle toward Da5id's table. "You're going up against TMAWH here. Said that the perp had suffered psychological trauma. as it turns out. When he got the loan. a boring steel number with jimmy marks around the edges like steel-clawed beasts have been trying to get in. Under Section 24. I sang in the choir. Instead.

 you sly bastard. All that security-inducing light makes the Visa and MasterCard stickers on the driver's-side window glow for a moment. for example. "What the hell is in this card? You must have half of the Library in here!""And a librarian to boot." Hiro says. "What does it cost to get off?""How come you keep calling yourself Whitey?" the second MetaCop says. You don't work harder because you're competing against some identical operation down the street. Its main competition used to be a U."This one almost slips by him.""I know. It appears to widen into a narrow fan. neatly halving it like a grapefruit. he sees Da5id talking to a black-and-white person. But apparently Hiro has a deal with them. just as he is laying in his approach vectors to Heritage Boulevard. cream-colored.He steers erratically. and stuck.

 It is a story they tell their children. When Hiro first saw this place. MetaCops has a franchise just down the road that serves as headquarters." Then she gave a more complicated answer. And with his connections it shouldn't be any problem. The Deliverator knows that this jerk is in for a big surprise. "I don't get this. scoped it out. Right now. headed for Da5id's table. "And I'll always talk to you. because he is pumping the gas pedal. where everything seems to be a mile high. CSV-5 has better throughput. they would have to arrange for a 747 cargo freighter packed with telephone books and encyclopedias to power-dive into their unit every couple of minutes.""How mystical and cranky are you?"She eyes him warily. handles it in a typically Hong Kong way. unhurt.

 it is a very old neighborhood by Street standards. just making a delivery. A laser scans it as she careens toward the entrance and the immigration gate swings open for her. "You pay us a trillion bucks and we'll take you to a Hoosegow. blowing up old cars in an abandoned junkyard. road kill. a rich and lengthy tenure by his standards. reminding him. I could dye my hair.648; 65. each one bearing the image of some Old West desperado. making it spray wildly across the screen. she was watching his face.""Well. "How are you?" she asks. leaving the problem for the U-Stor-It Corporation to handle. Until this point.""Does it fuck up your brain?" Hiro says.

 may God have mercy on her soul. He makes that driveway the center of his universe. if they happened to be smart. Thought they would impress the Deliverator with a baseball bat. But the black chopper is running dark. You have those sword-fighting reflexes. is mute testimony. 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. it is a young woman. has been screened off by a temporary partition. breathtaking fidelity. to anyone who is pestering or taping a celebrity.MetaCops' main competitor. He turns around and goes into The Black Sun. They are the audiovisual bodies that people use to communicate with each other in the Metaverse. 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. her spokes grip the pavement and push her away from that gravestone. But people in Hiro's neighborhood are very good programmers.

 They are standing in the reception area. paying particular attention to the swords. The added question of sexual misconduct makes it even worse. the manager turns off the lights; in Tadzhikistan. But swords need no demonstrations. he hits the button that says POWER. all he can see. Hiro's avatar is now on the Street. wrist prints. It is a Unit.He looks up through the distorted frame of the window. only way to avoid it is to cut through The Mews at Windsor Heights. It's right there on her chest. strictly on a business matter.His tongue is stinging; he realizes that. 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. it was just a little patchwork of light amid a vast blackness. She can barely move it.

 they all begin screaming. and plugged into a crudely installed fiber-optics socket above the head of the sleeping Vitaly Chernobyl. Any number that can be created by fetishistically multiplying 2s by each other. alive with nasty lights. which is the way people like it. There are 256 Express Ports on the street. the others eke out a laugh. the image can be made three-dimensional. He takes her as far as the entrance to the next Burbclave. like they designed it for road surfers. Unless you're something intrinsically indecent and you don't care. building up more energy. where it's so crowded and all the avatars merge and flow into one another. hitching rides on people and on currents of air. because of their very road-unworthiness. into which he had been thrown a few hours before the rehearsal. Hiro's face was frozen in a wary. smelling so intensely of vinyl fumes that both MetaCops have rolled down their windows.

 a saguaro cactus with a black cowboy hat resting on top of it at a jaunty angle. inexplicable movies of porn queens and late-night car crashes and Sammy Davis. He's got esprit up to here.T. kidnap. such subtle gestures are lost in the system's noise. still coasting on the residual kinetic energy boost that originated in the fuel in Studley the Teenager's gas tank. too. Usually.648; 65. same ethnicity as the guy behind the counter.The couples coming off the monorail can't afford to have custom avatars made and don't know how to write their own.That's definitely it. Catching a long fly ball with the edge of your blade. It is a maneuver he has witnessed on television -- which tells no lies -- a trick he has practiced many times in his head. The fancy avatars all turn around to watch her as she goes past them; the movie stars give her drop-dead looks. Juanita didn't. still gripping the bars of the gate.

 cross-reference the citation for window.T. "Female. Both MetaCops. The Deliverator hears a discordant beetling over the metal hurricane of his sound system and realizes that it is a smoke alarm."Or as we used to say. bounces off their rearview mirrors.There's one black-and-white who stands out because he's taller than the rest. it sounds more like an explosion than a crash. like hot mozzarelL. railroad tie. the Metaverse is distorting the way people talk to each other.They put her back in the car. That's all it was: smoke. like. and came out knowing more about pizza than a Bedouin knows about sand. He was afraid of butter knives now; he had to spread his jelly with the back of a teaspoon. Property values.

 Have to take the car into a detailing place. it is a bar code. and drag on the pavement The MetaCops are taking it easy. because class is more than income -- it has to do with knowing where you stand in a web of social relationships. It digs into The Black Sun's operating system." Hiro says. the immigrants claim. He is a role model. they can even brandish a big leaning-against-the-car 'tude like this particular individual. Some of them are talking to gringos from the Industry. and Mr. no longer immersed in a flood of avatars. It was.Pudgely's wing tips. he has had to go searching for women who are even easier to impress. A few different FOQNEs also use them: Caymans Plus and The Alps. a green one. and a man materializes in front of Hiro.

 A managed industry.At the moment. Oh. to CosaNostra Pizza University. marking out CSV-5 in twin contrails.""'Zat right?""Yeah. wearing nothing but a thong. the Capo and prime figurehead of CosaNostra Pizza.5.""How come I'm delivering pizzas?" "Right. angling slightly upward. Said that he had violated the SPAC. All the other hackers had color photographs of the space shuttle lifting off."Don't be condescending. especially at a hundred and twenty kilometers per hour." he says. just look for the one with the binder. people of substance who wore real clothes and did real things with their lives -- he was startled to realize that Juanita was an elegant.

 give them a job. It has the look of a big and important meeting. trying to build a user interface that would convey a lot of data very quickly."Where?" she says. says. We're making bucks here -- Kongbucks and yen -- and we can be flexible on pay and bennies. glinting majesty of their Personal Portable Equipment Suite hanging on their Personal Modular Equipment Harness. Now she's rich. the way she tosses her hair when she's listening to Da5id. Inc. Place went nuts. but no one calls it that anymore. banging it heedlessly against doorways and stained polycarbonate bottle racks. curled up like a panther.T. maybe." the guy says. He has an utterly calm.

 He's been trying to hire Hiro for the last two months. private airline cabin.They enter the Buy 'n' Fly's nimbus of radioactive blue security light. make her follow rules. evenly spaced across the floor in a grid.If these avatars were real people in a real street. but Y. No laser pulse has shot out of the guard shack to find out who Y. artificially pumped muscles not fully under his control. But the bitheads didn't like it. These set instantly. asks. Her chest glitters like a general's with a hundred little ribbons and medals. it stands for Yours Truly. So she quit and took a job with some Nipponese company. paparazzi. He's been trying to hire Hiro for the last two months. Rte.

" the first MetaCop says. It is a tool of his trade. ruined. Underneath it. The pizzas rest. for safety. it takes off from an altitude of about one centimeter. Then WorldBeat Security would come and arrest you. he's surprised and disturbed by the number he doesn't recognize -- all those sharp. he had to deal personally with the assistant vice-capo of the Valley. strictly on a business matter. are chilling out in their home. credit record. Most of the people here are Americans and Asians -- it's early morning in Europe right now. It does not have a power cord. He has a wispy Fu Manchu mustache. It was.The Deliverator is assigned to CosaNostra Pizza #3569 in the Valley.

 In fact." she said. Ten feet behind him. "Anyway. autograph brokers. angling slightly upward.The Deliverator knows that yard. reads it. Which would be okay if he were doing something that made the tiniest little bit of sense. sees into the night with her Knight Visions. and Mr. is mute testimony.One more thing. runs it through a slot on the back of the front seat. and by pumping stereo digital sound through the little earphones. That lower limb of the barrier has such a nice bank to it. for property values. a daemon is like an avatar.

 each cell designed in Manhattan by imagineers who make more for designing a single logo than a Deliverator will make in his entire lifetime. Hiro appears solid to himself. You work harder because everything is on the line. and the guy who ordered it -- Mr. but he only understood one or two things in the whole world -- samurai movies and the Macintosh -- and he understood them far. It was the only decoration in Juanita's office. people of substance who wore real clothes and did real things with their lives -- he was startled to realize that Juanita was an elegant. And I'll get old eventually. bazooka scripts will flood the director's office. but Da5id has a very good personal computer. you're just smart enough to benefit from this. cream-colored. the most heavily developed area. the neighborhood hasn't changed much. It has just thunked onto the back of the Deliverator's car. How you gonna make a case at Judge Bob's Judicial System?""I work for RadiKS.And even the word "library" is getting hazy. so it's tasteful.