|
0b270c8
|
So now, in her day, he said, they were headed into androgenic, systemic, multiplex, seriously bad shit, like she sort of already knew, figured everybody did, except for people who still said it wasn't happening, and those people were mostly expecting the Second Coming, anyway.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
b54c1a0
|
Be quiet, darling. Let pattern recognition have its way.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
16f0ceb
|
Yeah, it's so popular it's almost legal. The customers are torn between needing someone and wanting to be alone at the same time, which has probably always been the name of that particular game, even before we had the neuroelectronics to enable them to have it both ways.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
b0d8e55
|
Now the deer moved through snow, snow that blew sideways, frosting the perfectly upright walls of Detroit's dead and monumental heart, vast black tines of brick reaching up to vanish in the white sky. They made a lot of nature shows there.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
cfd4201
|
Otherwise, he'd have found the ruin empty, and then, somehow, very quietly and almost naturally, he would have died.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
6552bab
|
That's what money will buy you, in America," Brown had said, firmly. "People say Americans are materialistic. But do you know why?" "Why?" asked Milgrim, more concerned with this uncharacteristically expansive mode of expression on Brown's part. "Because they have better stuff," Brown had replied. "No other reason."
|
|
money
americans
materialism
|
William Gibson |
|
754071e
|
Do you always wear Malaysian imitations of Brooks Brothers blue oxford button-downs, Mr. Laney?" Laney had looked down at his shirt, or tried to. "Malaysia?" "The stitch-count's dead on, but they still haven't mastered the thread-tension." "Oh." "Never mind. A little prototypic nerd chic could actually lend a certain frisson, around here. You could lose the tie, though. Definitely lose the tie. And keep a collection of felt-tipped pens in ..
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
adc9c2e
|
Cyberspace. A consensual hallucination experienced daily by billions of legitimate operators, in every nation, by children being taught mathematical concepts . . . A graphic representation of data abstracted from the banks of every computer in the human system.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
34b3e3d
|
They damaged his nervous system with a wartime Russian mycotoxin. Strapped to a bed in a Memphis hotel, his talent burning out micron by micron, he hallucinated for thirty hours. The damage was minute, subtle, and utterly effective. For Case, who'd lived for the bodiless exultation of cyberspace, it was the Fall.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
32473e4
|
Because he had a good agent, he had a good contract. Because he had a good contract, he was in Singapore an hour after the explosion. Most of him, anyway.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
f3bcc65
|
Eras are conveniences, particularly for those who never experienced them. We carve history from totalities beyond our grasp. Bolt labels on the result. Handles. Then speak of the handles as though they were things in themselves." "I've"
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
4c749a0
|
Zona spat a stream of Spanish that overwhelmed translation, a long and liquid curse.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
069bf7d
|
All the meat, he thought, and all it wants.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
80d6144
|
Biz here was a constant subliminal hum, and death the accepted punishment for laziness, carelessness, lack of grace, the failure to heed the demands of an intricate protocol.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
640885b
|
I'm not Wintermute now." "So what are you." He drank from the flask, feeling nothing. "I'm the matrix,"
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
1979b45
|
When you raise the dead, they bring their baggage.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
39d7590
|
She isn't feeling easy with any of this. She doesn't know quite what to do with Bigend's proposition, which has kicked her into one of those modes that her therapist, when she last had one, would lump under the rubric of 'old behaviors.' It consisted of saying no, but somehow not quite forcefully enough, and then continuing to listen. With the result that her 'no' could be gradually chipped away at, and turned into a 'yes' before she hersel..
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
2fbf017
|
You can't get clever men to fight such a system, as it makes too much sense to 'em.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
6a0167f
|
Armitage smiled, a smile that meant as much as the twitch of some insect's antenna.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
d632c9b
|
Don't anticipate outcome," the man said. "Await the unfolding of events. Remain in the moment."
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
e70ba7b
|
Freeside is Las Vegas and the hanging gardens of Babylon, an orbital Geneva and home to a family inbred and most carefully refined, the industrial clan of Tessier and Ashpool.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
cb2727f
|
What happened to your arm?" she asked me one night in the Gentleman Loser, the three of us drinking at a small table in a corner. Hang-gliding," I said, "accident." Hang-gliding over a wheatfield," said Bobby, "place called Kiev. Our Jack's just hanging there in the dark, under a Nightwing parafoil, with fifty kilos of radar jammed between his legs, and some Russian asshole accidentally burns his arm off with a laser." I don't remember how ..
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
2aa1612
|
Fuck it. Just fuck it.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
18660b1
|
Sleep takes her down fast, and very deep, whirls her through places too fragmentary to call dreams, then spits her abruptly back to the surface.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
97f7da8
|
A Belgian journalist, struggling to describe the scene, had said that it resembled a cross between a permanent mass wake, an ongoing grad night for at least a dozen subcultures unheard of before the disaster, the black market cafes of occupied Paris, and Goya's idea of a dance party (assuming Goya had been Japanese and smoked freebase methamphetamine, which along with endless quantities of alcohol was clearly the Western World's substance o..
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
2191b7a
|
Our best analyst thinks it's not a tactical design. Something for mall ninjas.... Young men who dress to feel they'll be mistaken for having special capability. A species of cosplay, really. Endemic. Lots of boys are playing soldier now. The men who run the world aren't, and neither are the boys most effectively bent on running it next. Or the ones who're actually having to be soldiers, of course. But many of the rest have gone gear-queer, ..
|
|
gear-queer
mall
mitty
ninja
wannabe
soldiers
|
William Gibson |
|
32f295b
|
Unstuck her in time, day-sleeping in her bedroom. How old was she? Seven, seventeen, twenty-seven? Dusk or dawn? Couldn't tell by the light outside. Checked her phone. Evening. The house silent, her mother probably asleep. Out through the smell of her grandfather's fifty years of National Geographic, shelved in the hall.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
1731f88
|
The world hadn't ever had so many moving parts or so few labels.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
565536d
|
She hung up before he could say goodbye. Stood there with her arm cocked, phone at ear-level, suddenly aware of the iconic nature of her unconscious pose. Some very considerable part of the gestural language of public places, that had once belong to cigarettes, now belonged to phones.
|
|
technology
|
William Gibson |
|
7b73a16
|
Bugis Street, once famous for its transvestite prostitutes - the sort of place where one could have imagined Noel Coward, ripped on opium, cocaine and the local tailoring, just off his rickshaw for a night of high buggery - had, when it proved difficult to suppress, a subway station dropped on top of it.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
e002c09
|
if poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world, science-fiction writers are its court jesters.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
1e8e4d2
|
It was such an easy thing, death. He saw that now: It just happened. You screwed up by a fraction and there it was, something chill and odorless, ballooning out from the four stupid corners of the room, your mother's Barrytown living room.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
899d199
|
Well,' Rydell said, trying to pick up his end, 'I was watching this one old movie last night-' Sublett perked up. 'Which one?' Dunno,' Rydell said. 'This guy's in L.A. and he's just met this girl. Then he picks up a pay phone, 'cause it's ringing. Late at night. It's some guy in a missile silo somewhere who knows they've just launched theirs at the Russians. He's trying to phone his dad, or his brother, or something. Says the world's gonna ..
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
2032c9d
|
Fables from before the Anaheiming.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
1f19fad
|
I knew he used women as counters in a game, Bobby Quine versus time and the night of cities. And Rikki had turned up just when he needed something to get him going, something to aim for. So he'd set her up as a symbol for everything he wanted and couldn't have, everything he'd had and couldn't keep.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
3dcf05c
|
Netherton was watching the intricate texture of her bustier, which resembled a microminiature model of some Victorian cast-iron station roof, its countless tiny panes filmed as by the coal smoke of fingerling locomotives, yet flexing as she breathed and spoke.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
1ae3e3f
|
Terrorism as we ordinarily understand it is inately media-related. The
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
77b8883
|
It was called dub, a sensuous mosaic cooked from vast libraries of digitalized pop; it was worship, Molly said, and a sense of community.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
efa8be8
|
Honey," Jammer said, "you'll learn. Some things you teach yourself to remember to forget."
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
db3863c
|
Cyberspace. A consensual hallucination experienced daily by billions of legitimate operators, in every nation, by children being taught mathematical concepts . . . A graphic representation of data abstracted from the banks of every computer in the human system. Unthinkable complexity. Lines of light ranged in the nonspace of the mind, clusters and constellations of data. Like city lights, receding. . . .
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
158a1fe
|
This was nothing like Tokyo, where the past, all that remained of it, was nurtured with a nervous care. History there had become a quantity, a rare thing, parceled out by government and preserved by law and corporate funding. Here it seemed the very fabric of things, as if the city were a single growth of stone and brick, uncounted strata of message and meaning, age upon age, generated over the centuries to the dictates of some now-all-but-..
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
03840a4
|
That evil wasn't glamorous, but just the result of ordinary half-assed badness, high school badness, given enough room, however that might happen, to become its bigger self. Bigger, with more horrible results, but never more than the cumulative weight of ordinary human baseness.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
8826337
|
It took a month for the gestalt of drugs and tension he moved through to turn those perpetually startled eyes into wells of reflexive need. He'd watched her personality fragment, calving like an iceberg, splinters drifting away, and finally he'd seen the raw need, the hungry armature of addiction.
|
|
|
William Gibson |
|
de257fc
|
That was before you guys turned up, the new hoodoo team. I knew this street samurai got a job working for a Special Forces type made the Wig look flat fucking normal. Her and this cowboy they'd scraped up out of Chiba, they were on to something like that. Maybe they found it. Istanbul was the last I saw of 'em. Heard she lived in London, once, a few years ago. Who the fuck knows?
|
|
|
William Gibson |