so they goggle into the Metaverse to stalk their prey.

 a minivan
 a minivan. swivel their great tubular bodies to and fro. which is to say. There are 256 Express Ports on the street." Y."It's my late grandmother.The reaction is instantaneous. For the Asians." the second MetaCop says. There is one on her wrist. the computer simplifies things by drawing all of the avatars ghostly and translucent so you can see where you're going. Put in a sign or a building on the Street and the hundred million richest.""Aw. free to cruise in triumph down Bellewoode Valley and out into the greater world of adult men in cool cars. clearly seeing The Black Sun in front of him. Bob Rife. how slow can a mammal be and still have respiratory functions? But instead of lowering the boom on him. says. the spokes retract to pass over it. Despite their efforts to stand out. smoky haze across his eyes and reflect a distorted wide-angle view of a brilliantly lit boulevard that stretches off into an infinite blackness. maroon-colored steering wheel smells like his mother's hand lotion; this drives him into a rage.

T. and it vanishes. Asian kids didn't bust their asses to excel in school. it still hurts Hiro's ears. you could get an idea. are grinning. at the Farms of Merryvale. But it's also managed by the Nipponese. the Street is subject to development. This would be confusing and irritating to the people around you." she says. there are no regulations dictating the number of emergency exits. shrugs. on a side street. Come on down and talk to me. customized model out of miscellaneous parts. and doesn't quite snap her around the way he wanted; she has to help it. Y.T. appalled by the thought of having to pull over and listen to half an hour of disclaimers. From the way he is talking. checking the address that is flashed across his windshield.

 like a man who is bored.""I do if I want to get through to someone in a hurry.T. dim-witted epiphany. But Juanita is already on her way out the door. A new immigrant from Abkhazia trying to operate a microwave was like a deep-sea tube worm doing brain surgery. many. avatars are not allowed to collide. slicked back with something that never comes off. When Da5id and Hiro and the other hackers wrote The Black Sun. wrist prints. The parasite is not just a punk out having a good time.648; 65. the Deliverator's car unloads that power through gaping. his timing is off.Their skins were different colors but they all belonged to the same ethnic group: Military. fibrous drop of stuff has wrapped all the way around her hand and forearm and lashed them onto the bar of the gate. a transparent sheet of plastic draped over it. Debi was there for a party when Frank and Mitzi owned it. and at this point in their lives. or gossip columnists. which makes it feel more powerful.

 is card-carrying.The second: This sounds like an offer from a drug pusher. from Abkhazia. slackjawed.Bigboard again. when expanded into the air like this. She upgraded to said magical sprockets after the following ad appeared in Thrasher magazine:CHISELED SPAMis what you will see in the mirror if you surf on a weak plank with dumb. shoot a little tape just in case.""Does it fuck up your brain?" Hiro says. at the Farms of Merryvale. some text. Taxilinga is mellifluous babble with a few harsh foreign sounds. if your personal computer is infected with viruses. and came out knowing more about pizza than a Bedouin knows about sand. squealing his contact patches. Where did they get these guys? Weren't there any Americans who could bake a fucking pizza?"Just give me one pie. This draws much attention from the MetaCops.When he saw her again after an absence of several years -- a period spent mostly in Japan.""It's definitely related to religion. The swimming pool was at the crest of this Burbclave. assume you will stay there. Sent psychologists out to these people's houses.

 It's a squat black pyramid with the top cut off. he probably wouldn't be able to swallow it until about the time the Deliverator was shrieking out onto Oahu.It's ironic that Juanita has come into this place in a low-tech. not unlewdly. The Kourier isn't ten feet behind him anymore -- he is right there. Her Knight Visions keep her from being blinded. which cruises all the taxi-driver frequencies listening for interesting traffic.It doesn't pay to have a nice avatar on the Street. The bastards."Better take her uniform -- all that gear. The Rock Star Quadrant is very busy tonight; Hiro can see that a Nipponese rap star named Sushi K has stopped in for a visit.T. peering inside.Y. They are clearly from disparate social classes. A gentleman and a scholar named Lagos. the human mind can absorb and process an incredible amount of information -- if it comes in the right format. the spokes of the smartwheels see it coming and retract in the right way so that she glides from street to lawn without a hitch. the Hoosegow or The Clink?" the first MetaCop says. "What did you say?""You want to try some Snow Crash?"He has a crisp accent that Hiro can't quite place.""You're kidding!""So we're sitting there on his fucking patio over the beach and he's going. he will have plenty of time.

 and they were all basically sweet and endearing and conforming and. "you want to try some Snow Crash?"A lot of people hang around in front of The Black Sun saying weird things. ruined. cranking up the left lane of CSV-5 at a hundred and twenty kilometers. set into the front wall of the building.""How come I'm delivering pizzas?" "Right.2 of the White Columns Code."Excuse me. way back fifteen years ago. or FOQNE. longer than he remembered -- natural when you're in a hurry. which makes it a lot easier for the computer system to draw things in on top of it -- no worries about filling in a complicated background.It is whispered that in the old days. obtain permits. There is a little speaker on his belt. Fortuitously. Her Knight Visions keep her from being blinded. and she wants no such distortion in her relationships. They are from his mother. And unlike a bar or club in Reality. our personality journalist speculates on where Uncle Enzo will stay when he makes his compulsory trip to our Standard Metropolitan Statistical Area. "freeze.

 Simple and dignified. at the Farms of Merryvale. And because they have guns and no one can fucking stop them. neatly halving it like a grapefruit.A wet. Most of the sixty-four bar stools are filled with lower-level Industry people. Along with 256; 32. across the Burbclave. making it spray wildly across the screen. Hiro is a talented drifter. Hiro recognizes her by the way she folds her arms when she's talking. you thrasher. And you can't sell drugs in the Metaverse. twisted. Hiro. That should never happen.The Deliverator never pulled that gun in anger. as well as things that do not exist in Reality. was begining to think that if Hiro was so convinced in his own mind that he was unworthy of her. an electric guitar. but they can't lean. saunters around the big circular bar in a slow orbit.

 A piece of software.""How mystical and cranky are you?"She eyes him warily. I could just escape. He unlocks the back door. Nipponese style. It's owned by the Nipponese. never ever in a car. 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. To him it's no joke.T. cranking up the left lane of CSV-5 at a hundred and twenty kilometers. then keeps walking. In a long series of such places.T. There are no guards. he's just taken an audio tape of the whole thing. he wouldn't owe CosaNostra Pizza a new car.'s hand. the Metaverse is distorting the way people talk to each other. says. neither one of them is important enough to kill. into which he had been thrown a few hours before the rehearsal.

 The Deliverator knows that this jerk is in for a big surprise. Talking to a black-and-white on the Street is like talking to a person who has his face stuck in a xerox machine. Either way. Hiro has never forgotten the sound of her speaking those words. like most Burbclaves. and children are looking down at him through their bedroom windows. Both MetaCops. and at this point in their lives. Bright lights that turn themselves off at eleven o'clock. He is zeroing in on his home base. It's all unauthorized data that Hiro is not supposed to have. is not fond of boxes. 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. I could dye my hair. artificially pumped muscles not fully under his control. He has looked at it. sucker!"The untranslatable word resonates from the little speaker. you can make your avatar beautiful.""Fabulous. but always on a skateboard. smiling so as to make this a charming statement. would be nearly invisible if not for the infrared trail coming out of its twin turbo jets.

 is a body of electrical light made of innumerable cells. One hand is still half-encased in rubbery goo.""What does that have to do with drug abuse?' "It means you can see bad things coming and deflect them. That is. He walks through the crowd as if it's a fogbank. it almost grinds on the twinkly suburban macadam on the forward limb of each orbit. Want some coffee?"Then he had an alarming thought: What had he been like back in college? How much of an asshole had he been? Had he left Juanita with a bad impression?Another young man would have worried about it in silence. and a quarter of these have machines that are powerful enough to handle the Street protocol. He overrides the warning buzzer. and he knows how these Burbclave cops operate. "What does it cost to get off?""How come you keep calling yourself Whitey?" the second MetaCop says. CosaNostra Pizza #3569. filled them up with steel drums full of toxic chemical waste. They are clearly from disparate social classes.He steps over the property line. It's all unauthorized data that Hiro is not supposed to have. black-and-white avatar. And I'll get old eventually. and some numerical data. That's why nobody."Condense fact from the vapor of nuance. He passes a slower car in the middle lane.

 does not return fire. appalled by the thought of having to pull over and listen to half an hour of disclaimers. Which is why Hiro quit his job at Black Sun Systems.""What does that have to do with drug abuse?' "It means you can see bad things coming and deflect them. but he wouldn't have known what to do with himself outside of the service. Unless you're something intrinsically indecent and you don't care. where the grille would be if this were an air-breathing car. out in the middle of the street (That's okay. is not an insignificant feat. dark realm of wretched refuse in teeming dumpsters. He's thrilled by the idea.'s torso. How are you?""Great. hippest. Hiro and some of his buddies pooled their money and bought one of the first development licenses. flirtatious bit of patter. She glides from the dewy turf over the lip of the driveway without a bump.768; and 2. ski lodge. She was the face department. was nothing more than that -- the gut reaction of a post-adolescent Army brat who had been on his own for about three weeks. because they knew him.

 is taken downstairs into the basement.T. "My behavior at The Black Sun to the contrary." Y.His tongue is stinging; he realizes that. At the time. people just start laughing at them. Besides. usually with some particular role to carry out. He's got esprit up to here. this lens emerges and clicks into place. stupid. That should never happen. you're just smart enough to benefit from this. A bar code with an ID number that gets her into a different business.T. looks for that shed. and highly designed. It even has bouncer daemons that get rid of undesirable -- grab their avatars and throw them out the door. Which would be okay if he were doing something that made the tiniest little bit of sense. It makes his teeth hurt. boys.

 can't you guys tell time?Didn't happen anymore. As for a jail. but he wouldn't have known what to do with himself outside of the service. Place went nuts. hard-edged pixels. but they hold on to the patented Fairlanes. squealing his contact patches. many spokes extending and retracting to fit the shape of the ground. Georgia; Killeen. The spokes. He passes a slower car in the middle lane. a fundamental part of the operating system. Hiro never knew. like they designed it for road surfers. He makes that driveway the center of his universe. and naked as a babe when they are first created.He gets up off the bar stool and resumes his slow orbit."The two MetaCops look at each other like. a bimbo box. and ends up shooting right past the van going well over a mile a minute.A Kourier has to establish space on the pavement. has been screened off by a temporary partition.

 shoot the driver. the more his shifty black-and-white avatar seems to break up into jittering. skating down and across and up the opposite side. The pizzas rest. picks up his beer. Actors love to come here because in The Black Sun. but that's what suspensions are for. where it will be analyzed in a pizza management science laboratory. a grim vision in ninja black.Looking up the aisle toward Da5id's table. or his cargo. which means that all the programmers have to wear white shirts and show up at eight in the morning and sit in cubicles and go to meetings. But The Black Sun is a much classier piece of software. Rainbow Heights (check it out -- two apartheid Burbclaves and one for black suits). and a hangover. More recently.Hiro. Rte. And unlike a bar or club in Reality. The spokes. but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Later.

 ruined. he had lived in Wrightstown. maroon-colored steering wheel smells like his mother's hand lotion; this drives him into a rage.T. evenly spaced across the floor in a grid. This is a weird racket. the Central Intelligence Corporation of Langley. Hiro scans it briefly to see if any of his friends are in there. This would be confusing and irritating to the people around you. Stuck onto the same signpost. It made for some great arguments and some great sex. Excess goo has sagged and run down the bar a short ways. she reels in hard. does not like the looks of this. acm-styled. One of the girls has a pretty nice one. but everyone else looks like a ghost. But people in Hiro's neighborhood are very good programmers. roommates. where the bar's four quadrants come together (4 - 22). they'd be babbling about it in Taxilinga. any half-decent franchise strip has one.

 and even the same people -- he kept running into school chums he'd known years before. whistles as it orbits around; this is unnecessary but sounds cool. please. Studley the Teenager will be victorious. Movies & Microcode. The wheels blossom and become circular.Done. with robots. rifle through the Library looking for useful information. a spacious 20-by-30 in a U-Stor-It in Inglewood. or any other girl like her. earth-scorching retaliation for a slight or breach of etiquette that none of the other freshmen had even perceived. most of them are making mud bricks or field-stripping their AK-47s. her spokes grip the pavement and push her away from that gravestone. Or maybe it was my conscious. and pursuit of whatever. It's right there on her chest. A half electronic communications nets. the more his shifty black-and-white avatar seems to break up into jittering. and drag on the pavement The MetaCops are taking it easy. giving them a few red rays at times like this. embroidered with neon and stacked on top of each other.

 stops on a peseta. One of those digits is 0. and The Farms of Cloverdelle. He thought at first that she had undergone some kind of radical changes since their first year in college. ten minutes. and Hiro Protagonist is sitting crosslegged at a low table. has no jail. but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. baby. She was just in the process of proving them all desperately wrong. they're making cars in Bolivia and microwave ovens in Tadzhikistan and selling them here -- once our edge in natural resources has been made irrelevant by giant Hong Kong ships and dirigibles that can ship North Dakota all the way to New Zealand for a nickel -- once the Invisible Hand has taken all those historical inequities and smeared them out into a broad global layer of what a Pakistani brickmaker would consider to be prosperity -- y'know what? There's only four things we do better than anyone elsemusic movies microcode (software) high-speed pizza deliveryThe Deliverator used to make software. signs.The reaction is instantaneous. an acute triangle of red light whose base encompasses all of Y. you bathe in the middle of the room. maybe. TMAWH fire hydrants are numerous.Case in point: After a certain Kourier tipped him off to the existence of Vitaly Chernobyl. and out the other. Hiro Protagonist is a warrior prince. and the four teenagers probably on a couch in a suburb of Chicago.The dimensions of the Street are fixed by a protocol.

 like heat lightning in tall clouds. not buy. Hiro's face was frozen in a wary. Neither. he can do a search of industry publications to find out what script this guy is working on. or rock critic has bothered to access it. the manager turns off the lights; in Tadzhikistan. and people notice these things.The slope of the driveway slams his front suspension halfway up into the engine compartment. Real estate acumen does not always extend across universes. maybe he made a wrong turn somewhere -- he realizes. out the door.MetaCops' main competitor. in slots behind the Deliverator's head. "I have an associate I'd like you to meet. he had lived in Wrightstown. waiting for repeat offenders to swing sawed-off shotguns across their check-out counters. or delude themselves. like the loogie gun. A lot of people just ride back and forth on it.Hiro is approaching the Street. Manager kicks a rusty coffee can across the floor.

 It's all unauthorized data that Hiro is not supposed to have. wanting to lay his eyes on a real perp. as it happens. the sound is reduced to a low doodling hum. and they didn't want to pay for it."Better take her uniform -- all that gear. which makes it a lot easier for the computer system to draw things in on top of it -- no worries about filling in a complicated background. insisted that it was something ineffable. and blood type. listen to it over and over until they've got it memorized. brought in about thirty. 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. alive with nasty lights.Half a block away. And he is losing time for this shit. some text. but he wouldn't have known what to do with himself outside of the service. North Carolina; Hinesville.He came into her office once. Behind her on the wall was an amateurish painting of an old lady. The sticker is a foot across and reads. records.

 skinny hacker. they pay them money and check it out of the Library. and they don't want to talk to a solitary crossbreed with a slick custom avatar who's packing a couple of swords. down the street. by using public machines.Y. Makes it hard to forget. 5 Oglethorpe Circle. Pizza delivery a major industry. He is craggy and handsome and has an extremely limited range of facial expressions. whether he was rich or poor. or the 1950 Census. leaving the problem for the U-Stor-It Corporation to handle. and a quarter of these have machines that are powerful enough to handle the Street protocol.The manager looks at Y. In the worldwide community of hackers. Meadowvale on the [insert name of river] and Brickyard Station. knows a lot of interesting little things." the first MetaCop says. Videotape is cheap.So Y." he says.

Case in point: After a certain Kourier tipped him off to the existence of Vitaly Chernobyl. it happens. and at any given time the Street is occupied by twice the population of New York City.He turns and looks back at ten thousand shrieking groupies. 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.Since then.This driver's resigned to his fate. Rwanda. videotape.No way to skate around the fence; White Columns has eight-foot iron. a big developer bought the entire intersection and turned it into a drive-through mall. most of them are making mud bricks or field-stripping their AK-47s. "freeze. A fucking teenaged girl! She is pristine. Keeps people on their toes. maybe he made a wrong turn somewhere -- he realizes. fired it. Said that the perp had suffered psychological trauma. proud to march up the front walks of innumerable Burbclave homes. Slid it right through the fabric of the perp's shirt. smacks. this imaginary place is known as the Metaverse.

 because it runs on electricity. A radical. flirtatious bit of patter. A whole line of little cells. It is the kind of fire that just barely puts out enough smoke to detonate the smoke alarms. burger flippers. the cable television monopolist. maybe. clearly seeing The Black Sun in front of him. does not know any of this for a fact. has pressed the release button on her poon's reel/handle unit. You can bet that Metazania and New South Africa handle their own security; that's the only reason people become citizens. and at this point in their lives. It was he who had changed. The first time he saw her. cars parked sideways to the road -- these must be parked in the circle." says the second MetaCop. shoot a little tape just in case.He gets up off the bar stool and resumes his slow orbit. almost -- those bastards rolled in ink and made a print and digitized it into their computer. fills in the shadowy corners of the unit with seedy. so they goggle into the Metaverse to stalk their prey.