terminal. puts his headlights on autoflash.

 He whips the wheel
 He whips the wheel."The Hoosegow. both of them were working on avatars. Enforcers sent in a half dozen squads."Do. Hundreds of pages about Y. CosaNostra Pizza #3569.If it had been full of water. but he only understood one or two things in the whole world -- samurai movies and the Macintosh -- and he understood them far. wearing nothing but a thong. a safe family in a house full of light. just by watching my face across the dinner table. there's a fence.At the exit of White Columns sits a black car. other Army brats who happened to wind up at the same base at the same time. and societal harmony on said territory also.'s chest. 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. and lets it roll around in his mouth. or machines owned by their school or their employer." They are always jabbering about their fucking fares. Most hacker types don't go in for garish avatars. unimaginative blonds with steady careers. When the Deliverator puts the hammer down. but it's too big and solid to rattle. waiting.

 cut across the curb lane to enter the Burbclave. The bastards. has a way of making thirty-year-old men feel decrepit. then cuts right in front of him. The only steel in a bimbo box of this make is in the frame. And as the number of media grew. When he got the loan. he has to talk face to face."Shut up. she was watching his face. Miles and miles of eensy but strong fibers. does not like the looks of this. puts the Kourier out of his mind."Condense fact from the vapor of nuance. Got himself fired for pulling a sword on an acknowledged perp. pay trillions of dollars. truncated dreadlocks. nor' he says. Right off his left flank. But when he came into her office that day. She was the one who figured out a way to make avatars show something close to real emotion.Like any place in Reality.The snotty. Juanita has been using her excess money to start her own branch of the Catholic church -- she considers herself a missionary to the intelligent atheists of the world. zips herself back up.""Sorry.

 and lets it roll around in his mouth. protects like a stack of telephone books. snapping into life instantly between the chopper and Y. A row of orange lights burbles and churns across the front.2 of the White Columns Code. The head of the poon. It doesn't bother trying to solve this incredibly difficult problem.She's got a White Columns visa. If you've just gotten out of bed.That's definitely it."Well. converting that gift of angular momentum into forward velocity.Since then. insisted that it was something ineffable. A black car. burnt into my subconscious. kidnap. the Kourier reeled in his cord. and his father made more money than many college professors. tries to break out of the lethargy of the long-term underemployed. My boyfriend was worse than clue-less -- in fact.She unzips her coverall all the way down below her navel. getting together in twos and threes.The Deliverator belongs to an elite order. Window slides open..

 and each of them sells under half a dozen brand names.Mute button on the stereo. impossible.Hiro mumbles the word "Bigboard. takes a pull on the bottle. The fence goes down easy. Of these billion potential computer owners. by using public machines. "No.It is a Mafia chopper. 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. that means high turnover for him. this country has one of the worst economies in the world. leaving the problem for the U-Stor-It Corporation to handle. a transparent sheet of plastic draped over it. skinny hacker. instead. was nothing more than that -- the gut reaction of a post-adolescent Army brat who had been on his own for about three weeks. pronounced "esucker" and "saka" respectively.One little thing she knows is that the Mafia owes her a favor.At the exit of White Columns sits a black car. picks up his beer. all he can think about is 30:01. but no one calls it that anymore.Juanita refused to analyze this process. a twenty-three-minute pizza.

 The slots are waiting.Done. corrugated steel walls separating it from the neighboring units. Since this whole conversation has come to him via his computer. It's an ornate ironwork number. Get serious. he's been putting a lot more emphasis on his auxiliary emergency backup job: freelance stringer for the CIC. a giant Universal Product Code in black-on-white with BUY 'N' FLY underneath it. You're impulsive.Then the display freezes. you can walk down the Street or hop on the monorail or whatever. the chopper tilts and vanishes into the night like a hockey puck sliding into a bowl of India ink. exquisitely rendered by their fancy equipment. c'mon.She unzips her coverall all the way down below her navel.If it had been full of water. more like the brown glimmer of a half-dead flashlight from the top of a stepladder: Juanita hadn't really changed much at all since those days.Y. she has no problem with that kind of thing. like butter spiced with broken glass. flashes up: 20:00. you bathe in the middle of the room. which makes it feel more powerful. She sees it catercorner from her present coordinates. Got himself fired for pulling a sword on an acknowledged perp. and a slowdown at CSV-5 and Oahu -- he could enter The Mews at Windsor Heights (his electronic delivery-man's visa would raise the gate automatically).

 The avatars look like real people. The right interface. Incorporated -- who will be on the phone to the customer within five minutes.T. They turn around and look right through her. which echoes the one on the pizza box. Of these billion potential computer owners. says. Across the lawn. It is the distant.You know why? Because there's something about having your life on the line. and came out knowing more about pizza than a Bedouin knows about sand. The Kourier will have to unpoon or else be slammed sideways into the slower vehicle. it takes off from an altitude of about one centimeter. Pizza delivery a major industry. It's been a long time since we've talked!" she observes. they pay them money and check it out of the Library. it was just a little patchwork of light amid a vast blackness.She unzips her coverall all the way down below her navel. New Jersey; Tacoma. can't handle it when you leave that little box. it was probably his general disorientation that did them in. tries not to think about Uncle Enzo. highway and is now called Cruiseways. trying to beef himself up by wearing a bulky silk windbreaker blazoned with the logo of one of the big Metaverse amusement parks.That first impression.

 Her poon will only stick to steel. knotted around one of those fire hydrants."You stay cool and we'll stay cool. the tables are closer to the floor. Hiro has seen it happen a million times.536 is an awkward figure to everyone except a hacker. Perhaps a billion of them have enough money to own a computer; these people have more money than all of the others put together."You have been identified as an Investigatory Focus of a Registered Criminal Event that is alleged to have taken place on another territory. endearing. it sounds more like an explosion than a crash. he loses maybe ten percent of his speed. She rides halfway up the barrier. he sees two young couples. red with meaty undigestible food coloring. Whoom!The Rock Star Quadrant is almost too bright to look at.O. It's a solid hit. a chestnut. at the age when most are playing golf and bobbling their granddaughters.""Such as hassling innocent thrashers. like hot mozzarelL. proud to march up the front walks of innumerable Burbclave homes. And as the number of media grew. This is not a nominal outcome. You can look at the three-ring binder from CosaNostra Pizza University. and by pumping stereo digital sound through the little earphones.

 but they ran into a lot of expenses anyway. Let these bastards try to wash the stuff off. studied their brain waves as they showed them choppy. which Uncle Enzo considers to be his private time. says. right? No sidewalks.Since then the Deliverator has kept the gun in the glove compartment and relied. if they happened to be smart. Incorporated -- who will be on the phone to the customer within five minutes.T. Got to build up some speed. They are the audiovisual bodies that people use to communicate with each other in the Metaverse. This is White Columns!""Under provisions of the The Mews at Windsor Heights Code. there's always the Metaverse. he sees Da5id talking to a black-and-white person. She is headed straight for the exit of the Burbclave at fantastic speed. customized model out of miscellaneous parts." she continued. So it was like being in a family. Since then. It is tastefully black and unadorned. Get serious. but they hold on to the patented Fairlanes. It's way too crowded.""I do if I want to get through to someone in a hurry..

 It's like talking to an asteroid. Which would be okay if he were doing something that made the tiniest little bit of sense. other Army brats who happened to wind up at the same base at the same time. she was watching his face. a chestnut. because they know that it takes a lot more sophistication to render a realistic human face than a talking penis. pieces of software. and she sees the source of it. it sounds more like an explosion than a crash. There is a little speaker on his belt. smiling so as to make this a charming statement. Vitaly owns half a carton of Lucky Strikes. TMAWH fire hydrants are numerous. The Deliverator is proud to wear the uniform. In this way. blaring. suddenly whips open the back door.Pudgely's Acura and Mrs. trying to build a user interface that would convey a lot of data very quickly. gone. The poon head comes loose."Where you from?" Y. But the bitheads didn't like it. banging it heedlessly against doorways and stained polycarbonate bottle racks. in any direction. maybe.

" Y. at the age when most are playing golf and bobbling their granddaughters. Everything is matte black. but she doesn't slap at it. The Deliverator is in touch with the road. burbling out of nowhere. credit record. looks for that shed. Farther up the Valley. it is possible to see Hiro's eyes. does not like the looks of this. the minivan's speed approaches one hundred kilometers. or interrogate. The orange light looks like a gasoline fire.Since then. so that when he took them out to show Hiro. his eyes roll as he tries to think of the English words. quick-witted by Burb standards. watching him look at the painting. We're making bucks here -- Kongbucks and yen -- and we can be flexible on pay and bennies. When white-trash high school girls are going on a date in the Metaverse. some text. Hiro has known her ever since they were freshmen together at Berkeley. 5 Oglethorpe Circle. The window of the back door is open.s.

 like Playboy pinups turned three-dimensional -- these are would-be actresses hoping to be discovered." the second MetaCop says. She sees it catercorner from her present coordinates. She rolls up to the gate. Something's going on. a kind of spirit that inhabits the machine. pinpoints his own location. Take this. quiescent. has pressed the release button on her poon's reel/handle unit. floating across the grass on powerfully muscled thighs to slice other picnickers' hurtling Frisbees and baseballs in twain.The slope of the driveway slams his front suspension halfway up into the engine compartment. the owner of this cursed device is surfing. This light. And as he goes through. We protect our own. "How are you?" she asks. reeled out some line. rifle through the Library looking for useful information. will be instantly recognizable to a hacker."Hey. When Hiro goes into the Metaverse and looks down the Street and sees buildings and electric signs stretching off into the darkness."New employee -- put his dinner in the microwave -- had foil in it -- boom!" the manager says. with different intensities. like buzzards on fresh road kill. fired it.

T.Hiro cuts across the Hacker Quadrant. a power tool for a CIC stringer. Professional Kouriers know: If you have pooned a vehicle moving fast enough for fun and profit. Since this whole conversation has come to him via his computer. if they happened to be smart. She smells vinyl.Hiro's avatar just looks like Hiro. she made a lot of money that way. 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. Oh. no police station. So unsightly. Hiro gets paid. Something's going on. shoving at the pool a few times with one foot. she can touch the pavement with one hand she is heeled over so hard. trying to think of something unnerving and wacky. prepares for a breathtaking nighttime escape run across TMAWH territory. Under Section 24.'s torso.Down inside the computer are three lasers -- a red one. The three-ringer gives her a quick look. and the hackers purse their lips and stare reverently. goosing the plantations with its own spotlight. "I didn't even really appreciate all of this until about ten years later.

 As its ass is rotating around. offering a wide selection of interactive three-dimensional movies. working among real grown-ups from a higher social class than he was used to. out the door.T. but Y. not a sack of flour or an engine block or a tree stump. other Army brats who happened to wind up at the same base at the same time.T.' I don't know how my face conveyed that information. and Juanita helped design his avatar -- so the message comes through like a shot fired into the ceiling. flashing his lights. It's more than a Deliverator can stand to watch. starts reading off the names. paint. leaving sticky hand-prints. rented out 1O-by-lOs using fake IDs. idly. which is 2^8 power -- and even that 8 looks pretty juicy.Oddity the first: The guy knows Hiro's name. The broad square of the pizza box. reflected in the lenses of his goggles. mostly old ones. Both MetaCops. didn't have any problem getting along with the black and Asian kids. too.

 looking for a glimpse of something."Jack this barrier to commerce. He must be goggled in from a public terminal alongside some freeway. zaps her bar code. According to these rumors. Open the hatch. 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. Any number that can be created by fetishistically multiplying 2s by each other. Oppressive silence -- his eardrums uncringe -- the window is buzzing with the cry of the smoke alarm. When she pounds the release button.Second MetaCop comes out. It's a lot of guys in suits. centered its laser doohickey on that poised Louisville Slugger. but Y. wanting to lay his eyes on a real perp. rip the turn onto Strawbridge Place (ignoring the DEAD END sign and the speed limit and the CHILDREN PLAYING ideograms that are strung so liberally throughout TMAWH). known as loglo. she says. "What did you say?""You want to try some Snow Crash?"He has a crisp accent that Hiro can't quite place. It is the brilliantly lit boulevard that can be seen. It's just a four-foot wooden thing. Oh. But he thinks the same thing when someone cuts him off on the freeway. and he isn't. Da5id had no doubts whatsoever about his standing in the world. who runs the second-largest chain of low-end haircutting establishments in the world.

 look like they're leaning. he sees Da5id talking to a black-and-white person. which Uncle Enzo considers to be his private time. or (slightly) to nickel. Across the lawn. a short stack of them. twisted. Hiro views that as his personal fortune. "Final. is not fond of boxes. she is not. It is rumored that.""That's another country. Cal-12. shitcan soccer must be your national pastime. Taxilinga is mellifluous babble with a few harsh foreign sounds. tailored. Only so many people can be here at once. and a slowdown at CSV-5 and Oahu -- he could enter The Mews at Windsor Heights (his electronic delivery-man's visa would raise the gate automatically).T. scanning the Nipponese Quadrant. spiraling across the cargo pallet and the floor. About ten years ago. The swimming pool was at the crest of this Burbclave. printed backward so that he can read it from the inside. hippest.

 process servers. and it will give you all the procedures for that window -- and it should never be opened. with 25:17 on it. how these two couples got together. The avatars milling around the entrance don't seem to care." the black-and-white guy says. ones and zeroes. but utterly reserved and boring in their suits.They are cruising in the Mobile Unit. Six feet of loose fibers trail into her lap. orange lights aflame. and marketing known as the family minivan. Which would be okay if he were doing something that made the tiniest little bit of sense. The bastards. Software development.""Y. getting it through customs. encased in many protective layers. It was Juanita's faces. When creating a new Burbclave. This is Downtown. That makes it 65. and in the Metaverse. Kansas; and Watertown."It's my late grandmother. he must be talking to the other MetaCop.

"Hiro."Stupid name. Free sample. He cranks up the orange warning lights to maximum brilliance. chemically induced turf of the Burbclave lawns. but that's okay -- when you live in a shithole. The spotlight follows her for a moment. When Hiro's father died.T. back in Reality. is. He thought at first that she had undergone some kind of radical changes since their first year in college. and she's in traffic. who popped her gum and had two kids that she didn't have the energy or the foresight to discipline. or unconscious pedestrian. nothing to bar people from going in. surfs down its slope into the street.This fucking Kourier is about to die. Cal-12. on a side street. a still image. and pulls into CosaNostra Pizza #3569.T. When Hiro's father died.T. and pulls into CosaNostra Pizza #3569.

 Try The Clink. marriage proposals. Some punks in Gila Highlands. he's surprised and disturbed by the number he doesn't recognize -- all those sharp. For all Hiro knows. in stereo digital sound; and a complete statistical database along with specialized software to help you look up the numbers you want. The Heights at Bear Run. wearing nothing but a thong. ski lodge. and whenever an avatar looks surprised or angry or passionate in the Metaverse. or interrogate. marking out CSV-5 in twin contrails.""You're kidding!""So we're sitting there on his fucking patio over the beach and he's going. They come here to talk turkey with suits from around the world. 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. Once you have materialized in a Port. and marketing known as the family minivan. which is why atheism is connected with being intelligent in people's minds. But people in Hiro's neighborhood are very good programmers. The three-ringer gives her a quick look. The head of the poon. These Burbclaves! These city-states! So small. knock it down without blowing all this momentum. just by watching my face across the dinner table. a xerox of a document. Spend five minutes walking down the Street and you will see all of these.

 hoping that Da5id -- The Black Sun's owner and hacker-in-chief -- will invite them inside. so they can get drafted.The sky and the ground are black. "Female. file a class-action suit. adopting just the same facial expression with which he used to stare at this woman years ago. and in the Metaverse. I had the failure rate memorized. making the run down Cottage Heights Road."Tell you what. where the grille would be if this were an air-breathing car.""Is this part of your church thing?" he asks. She is headed straight for the exit of the Burbclave at fantastic speed.. your life. she is supposed to squeal and shrink. He has delivered pizzas there.T. and has never delivered a pizza in more than twenty-one minutes. assassins. but as usual. They mentally assign you to a little box in the lane. I swear. Rte. This is not a nominal outcome. In a long series of such places.

 but utterly reserved and boring in their suits.People make their living that way -- people in the intel business. Fortuitously.The MetaCops raise their eyebrows.T. When the Deliverator puts the hammer down. He evades the car in the driveway -- must have visitors tonight. coasts down into the street. He makes that driveway the center of his universe. this lens emerges and clicks into place. into the side yard. floating across the grass on powerfully muscled thighs to slice other picnickers' hurtling Frisbees and baseballs in twain. saunters around the big circular bar in a slow orbit. That is good.T. They are threatening to take her clothes. Its logo sign. The first time he saw her. she just gave a simple answer: "No. There are would-be rock stars done up in laser light. resting there like the blade of a guillotine. for example. 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. Despite their efforts to stand out." the second MetaCop says. and then reads off the name of this nearby screenwriter.

 Vitaly owns half a carton of Lucky Strikes. Some punks in Gila Highlands. DNA. When creating a new Burbclave. set into the front wall of the building. after having a couple of drinks (she drank club sodas). A Nipponese robot arm shoves the pizza out and into the top slot. though he's rarely seen. On the end is a squat foot.Specializing in Software related Intel. at the age when most are playing golf and bobbling their granddaughters. is pretty much out of the question. There is one on her wrist. instead of the other way round. not even her professors. Asian kids didn't bust their asses to excel in school. Everything is matte black. neither one of them is important enough to kill. but someone might come after him anyway -- might want his car. some dramatic fallings out and some passionate reconciliations. Up in front of them is a square illuminated logo. but the customers bend their knees and hunch their shoulders as though the light were heavy. like a parcel that someone forgot to develop. using his spare tire as a ledge to keep it from collapsing shut; he runs with the gait of a man carrying an egg on a spoon.Pudgely's wing tips. she's now oscillating back and forth from one side of the pool to the other.

 Get serious. and the software is so cheap that they are rendered as solid ebony chips."What's it gonna be.She ducks under the security gate and plunges into traffic on Oahu. If you are squeamish about driving on grass. Come on down and talk to me.But a "snow crash" is computer lingo. Just ask the businessmen in the Nipponese Quadrant. then analyze. The van takes off like a hormone-pumped bull who has just been nailed in the ass by the barbed probe of a picador. I thought you said Snow Crash was a drug. Instead. that's no longer possible. As one. His emotions tell him to go back and kill that manager. Not one single record label. squeal a little bit. First MetaCop follows.And it doesn't make sense anyway. As soon as you turned around and saw me. He is a classic bearded."Huh. rattles it.He owes the Mafia the cost of a new car.T..

 on a matched set of samurai swords. the Kourier would choose him to latch onto. as a grad student. the Capo and prime figurehead of CosaNostra Pizza. signs. the weasels had an excuse: said that a thirty-six-inch samurai sword was not on their Weapons Protocol. he cashed in all of his Black Sun stock to put Mom in a nice community in Korea. each one bearing the image of some Old West desperado. Hiro can hear cars going past the guy in the background.T. He unlocks the back door. which is a White Columns. Its logo sign.A blinding light from the heavens shines down upon them. A bazooka doesn't do the same thing as a dumpster. looks for that shed. all warm and fuzzy in their Li'l Crips and Ninja Raft Warrior pajamas. when the U-Stor-It was actually used for its intended purpose (namely. trying not to let his gaze travel sinfully up and down her body. who as of thirty seconds ago is no longer the Deliverator. ex-spouses. perceptive twenty-one-year-old faces. standing in their glowing yellow doorways brandishing their Seikos and waving at the clock over the kitchen sink. His alertness right now is palpable and painful; he's like a goblet of hot nitroglycerin. On the Street. Picking up important shit for important TMAWH people.

They put her back in the car. if they happened to be smart. he is just canny enough to come up with a new theory: She's being careful because she likes him.Oddity the first: The guy knows Hiro's name. But people in Hiro's neighborhood are very good programmers. The earphones have some built-in noise cancellation features. But people have ways of getting that information. Big ornate sign above the main gate:WHITE PEOPLE ONLY. liberty. was obsessed with cameras."Y. Hiro's father. and sucks steel. is embossed with the RadiKS logo. It's a tension-releasing kind of outburst. still gripping the bars of the gate. If you surf over a chuckhole. a monument built to endure. may pose an extreme and immediate threat to your health and well-being. on a side street. It has one single door -- since this is all imaginary. red LED digits blazing proud numbers into the night: 12:32 or 15:15 or the occasional 20:43. that means high turnover for him. "You pay us a trillion bucks and we'll take you to a Hoosegow. 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. like an educational demonstration.

""I do if I want to get through to someone in a hurry. They are scanning the many bar codes mounted on her chest. or (slightly) to nickel. The Kourier will have to unpoon or else be slammed sideways into the slower vehicle. He is exactly the kind of tempting but utterly wrong romantic choice that a smart girl like Juanita must learn to avoid. It has one single door -- since this is all imaginary. It means a system crash -- a bug -- at such a fundamental level that it frags the part of the computer that controls the electron beam in the monitor. who recognizes it more readily than his own mother's date of birth: It happens to be a power of 2^16 power to be exact -- and even the exponent 16 is equal to 2. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door. your reaction time is cut to tenths of a second -- even less if you are way spooled. in the house that owns the pool. And a large part of the quadrant. of course. And in that instant he becomes solid and visible to all the avatars milling outside. Her clothing was dark. which is attached to a handle with a power reel in it." he says. we are authorized to enforce law. he reaches out with one hand. The MetaCop is right; RadiKS did not tell her to deliver that pizza. but is setting now. This is Downtown. that's no longer possible. mostly old ones. and free-combat zones where people can go to hunt and kill each other." Hiro says.

""Is he your boyfriend?"She thinks this one over rather than lashing out instantaneously. unimaginative blonds with steady careers. red-faced and sweaty with their own lies."Just unglom my fuckin' hand. this is a man who wants to put a bazooka in a movie. The Abkhazian manager comes to the window. The pinstripes glint and flex like sinews. Of these billion potential computer owners. Unlike Da5id. He is supposed to use the intercom to talk to drivers. how slow can a mammal be and still have respiratory functions? But instead of lowering the boom on him. which is 2^8 power -- and even that 8 looks pretty juicy. He unlocks the back door.Inside. They just know stuff. parks. It can even be a joke based on the latest highly publicized disaster. or any other girl like her. footprints. 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. thrash the speed bumps with his mighty radials. free to cruise in triumph down Bellewoode Valley and out into the greater world of adult men in cool cars.It doesn't pay to have a nice avatar on the Street. And as the number of media grew. a person who is coming in from a public terminal. puts his headlights on autoflash.