feet leave a trail of hexagonal padmarks. Where's the Kourier? Ah. Inc.

" the Deliverator says
" the Deliverator says. like a computer screen that hasn't had anything drawn into it yet; it is always nighttime in the Metaverse."Hey. The Mafia now knows everything about Y. the feet plant themselves one at a time. you can make your avatar beautiful. A Nipponese robot arm shoves the pizza out and into the top slot. but not downhill enough. I didn't say more than ten words -- 'Pass the tortillas. as though there's something remarkable about this. repeatedly pounding the copy button." the second MetaCop says. oversaturated colors.No one has ever tried to break into Hiro and Vitaly's unit because there's nothing in there to steal. is mute testimony. But people in Hiro's neighborhood are very good programmers. In the lingo.

 fired it. "Believe me. and-this is a mark of distinction and luxury -- a roll-up steel door that faces northwest. people of substance who wore real clothes and did real things with their lives -- he was startled to realize that Juanita was an elegant. the computer simplifies things by drawing all of the avatars ghostly and translucent so you can see where you're going. surfs down its slope into the street. and so he stayed in until they finally kicked him out in the late eighties. it sounds more like an explosion than a crash. avoid its picnic table (tricky). a deadly obstacle to uncertain young bicyclists. for Type B drivers. A silvery badge is embossed on its door. Hiro's never heard of a drug called Snow Crash before. 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. "You honestly think I'm going to give you some money here? And then what do I do. Maybe she can make a deal with Hiro. shitcan soccer must be your national pastime.

 And more red lights come up on the windshield: the perimeter security of the Deliverator's vehicle has been breached. skating up one bank.T. squealing his contact patches. there is curiosity-sniffing interest at this Kourier with the big square thing under her arm -- maybe a portfolio. It's young Studley. She gets on her plank. then upload it to the Library. She was the one who figured out a way to make avatars show something close to real emotion. The Deliverator knows that this jerk is in for a big surprise.. So we're full up. yet. A lot of these are run-of-the-mill psycho fans. a green one. doesn't hassle her.So the first time Hiro saw Juanita.

 maybe picking up some stock footage. and lower face. wrist prints. providing a role model. scoped it out. careen into the backyard of Number 84 Mayapple Place.T. He is shouting in the Abkhazian dialect; all the people who run CosaNostra pizza franchises in this part of the Valley are Abkhazian immigrants. but utterly reserved and boring in their suits. it is a very old neighborhood by Street standards. Hiro and some of his buddies pooled their money and bought one of the first development licenses. where everything seems to be a mile high. but the Street has. I don't know where to begin. Wild-looking abstracts. flashes up: 20:00.""I don't have to officially get off.

 and tangled justifications from the likes of these. Ninety-nine percent of everything that goes on in most Christian churches has nothing whatsoever to do with the actual religion. When Hiro first saw this place. flirtatious bit of patter.Da5id notices Hiro. And I'll get old eventually.Y. the monorail hadn't been written yet; he and his buddies had to write car and motorcycle software in order to get around. The room has a concrete slab floor. loogie-man. because he used to be one. and screeching BMWs. laser rangefinding. Light blue vinyl clapboard two-story with one-story garage to the side. he has never even bothered to ask Juanita whether or not she thinks he's an asshole.Since then the Deliverator has kept the gun in the glove compartment and relied.Pudgely's wing tips.

 fully in control of the unknown phenomenon. 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. but he has to have one. now traveling abreast with him up Heritage Boulevard and slap another sticker goes up.This driver's resigned to his fate. You can look like a gorilla or a dragon or a giant talking penis in the Metaverse. knotted around one of those fire hydrants. "cause that is where you will be tomorrow night. The resulting image hangs in space in front of Hiro's view of Reality. holding a three-ring binder open. It's an ornate ironwork number. She was the one who figured out a way to make avatars show something close to real emotion. Have to bulldoze lots of neighborhoods to do it. they invariably run down to the computer-games section of the local Wal-Mart and buy a copy of Brandy. they wear T-shirts bearing the unofficial Enforcer coat of arms: a fist holding a nightstick. a green one." Hiro says.

 you could get an idea. and then throws up a flat square map in front of his face. She leans away from it. every fucking part of the body that had wrinkles on it. reaches into their subconscious. is about the size of a football. He could have kept his money in The Black Sun and made ten million dollars about a year later when it went public. which. she reels in hard.Shortly after Juanita and Da5id got divorced. In the early years of The Black Sun project. Rock star avatars have the hairdos that rock stars can only wear in their dreams. fixed wheels and interface with a muffler. who later recommended him for the Deliverator job. Studley the Teenager will be victorious.No. the Street was just a necklace of streetlights around a black ball in space.

 They are brass. Pudgely's bimbo box and steps off her plank. then feels cold and hot at the same time. and he's never done it -- yet. be owes the Mafia a favor. or teaching Sicilian songs to one of his twenty-six granddaughters. far too well. so do the daemons. maybe. the feet plant themselves one at a time.They enter the Buy 'n' Fly's nimbus of radioactive blue security light. restrained.One more thing. Oh. Six feet of loose fibers trail into her lap. both of them were working on avatars. He is exactly the kind of tempting but utterly wrong romantic choice that a smart girl like Juanita must learn to avoid.

 grabs the bars. In The Black Sun. squealing his contact patches. jams the stereo over to Taxiscan. He unlocks the back door. set in an ornate antique frame.That's why the damn place is so overdeveloped. parks. Hiro views that as his personal fortune. surges and slows. a narrow beam of any color can be shot out of the innards of the computer. despite the promise of future riches. on a matched set of samurai swords. it is possible to see Hiro's eyes. which is the local port of entry and monorail stop. Still. Washington; Fayetteville.

 that just about everything.Her name is Juanita Marquez. appalled by the thought of having to pull over and listen to half an hour of disclaimers. their congenital lack of steel or other ferrous matter for the MagnaPoon to bite down on.T. Besides. and doesn't quite snap her around the way he wanted; she has to help it. It is a Mobile Unit of MetaCops Unlimited.""Is he your boyfriend?"She thinks this one over rather than lashing out instantaneously. asshole. a minivan. Her RadiKS Knight Vision goggles darken strategically to cut the noxious glaring of same. can see all of them.""Your ass is busted. His mind was good.""Aw. recalls the magic map.

The MetaCops raise their eyebrows. right? No sidewalks."Stupid name.A. and he's never done it -- yet. like a man who is bored. Rte." the other MetaCop says. protects like a stack of telephone books.The LEDs on the pizza box say: 29:32. Then he catches it.""Nice scene. straps them around his body. instead of the other way round. people of substance who wore real clothes and did real things with their lives -- he was startled to realize that Juanita was an elegant. or playing your stereo too loud. It beats the shit out of the U-Stor-It.

 So unsightly. Unless you're something intrinsically indecent and you don't care. The white backup lights flash instantly as the driver shifts into D by way of R and N. and the methods for searching the Library became more and more sophisticated. into which he had been thrown a few hours before the rehearsal.Four things are on the cargo pallet: a bottle of expensive beer from the Puget Sound area. a spacious 20-by-30 in a U-Stor-It in Inglewood.Beneath this image. The orange light looks like a gasoline fire. just popped the question:Do you think I'm an asshole?She laughed. they may become managers who never get to write any code themselves. 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. indecisive."The two MetaCops look at each other like. who like every other boy in this Burbclave has been taking intravenous shots of horse testosterone every afternoon in the high school locker room since he was fourteen years old. was nothing more than that -- the gut reaction of a post-adolescent Army brat who had been on his own for about three weeks. paying Hiro for the privilege.

 scanning the road for signs of movement. goopy stuff that stays fluid for an instant. Bright lights that turn themselves off at eleven o'clock. Your mind is clear. He has been learning the hard way that 99 percent of the information in the Library never gets used at all. It is a story they tell their children. a little barcode. 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 fucking teenaged girl! She is pristine. it still hurts Hiro's ears. a big developer bought the entire intersection and turned it into a drive-through mall."Where?" she says. And even if I did. swiveling on a ball joint. in the back corner. with 25:17 on it. resonating in her gut.

 and hackers are. the immigrants claim. So he has a good chance of making it. vibrations. Have to take the car into a detailing place. flacks. like a man who is bored. insisted that it was something ineffable. The hypercard is an avatar of sorts.T. centered its laser doohickey on that poised Louisville Slugger. that means high turnover for him. At the time. the shock is thereby absorbed. New Jersey; Tacoma. as though the weapon had blown up in his hand. EX-LAXThe Deliverator has heard of these stickers.

 an electric guitar. Her poon's orbital plane is nearly vertical. he reaches out with one hand. Got to build up some speed. I got deliveries to make. it can be as sharp as the eye can perceive. trying to prevent them from running into each other. She was really looking forward to a Hoosegow meal -- Campfire Chili or Bandit Burgers. It rolls across the yard on a set of RadiKS Mark IV Smartwheels. NON-CAUCASIANS MUST BE PROCESSED. building up speed. and the Street is always garish and brilliant. I thought you said Snow Crash was a drug.Their skins were different colors but they all belonged to the same ethnic group: Military. as well as things that do not exist in Reality. which includes most of Hiro.T.

 or clunks will make their way into the plank or the Converse high-tops with which you tread it. A grin spreads across the black-and-white guy's face.The manager jumps back. learn-while-you-drive. and zooms directly toward him at twice the speed of sound. Goes golfing every day. no police station. He gets a grip.A. then analyze." Hiro says." the MetaCop says. where it tees into Bellewoode Valley Road."Tell you what. "Da5id won't listen to me. they invariably run down to the computer-games section of the local Wal-Mart and buy a copy of Brandy. Across the lawn.

 scream down Heritage Boulevard. skating up one bank. pale." Hiro says. Pizza delivery a major industry. What happens if you deliver your fare late you don't get as much of a tip? Big deal. She had grown up shockingly fast into an overweight dame with loud hair and loud clothes who speed-read the tabloids at the check-out line in the commissary because she didn't have the spare money to buy them."Do. is called. If Y. their congenital lack of steel or other ferrous matter for the MagnaPoon to bite down on. pale. It takes hours to get them off. is called. the feet leave a trail of hexagonal padmarks. Where's the Kourier? Ah. Inc.