parted ways.”
It is classic Da5id. He's talking with his heart again, bypassing his head. If Da5id weren't a hacker, Hiro would despair of his ever having enough brains to do anything.
“Let's talk about something else,” Hiro says. “Was I just hallucinating, or are you and Juanita on speaking terms again?”
Da5id gives him an indulgent smile. He has been very kind to Hiro ever since The Conversation, several years back. It was a conversation that started out as a friendly chat over beer and oysters between a couple of longtime comrades-in-arms. It was not until three-quarters of the way through The Conversation that it dawned on Hiro that he was, in fact, being fired, at this very moment. Since The Conversation, Da5id has been known to feed Hiro useful bits of intel and gossip from time to time.
“Fishing for something useful?” Da5id asks knowingly. Like many bitheads, Da5id is utterly guileless, but at times like this, he thinks he's the reincarnation of Machiavelli.
“I got news for you, man,” Hiro says. “Most of the stuff you give me, I never put into the Library.”
“Why not? Hell, I give you all my best gossip. I thought you were making money off that stuff.”
“I just can't stand it,” Hiro says, “taking parts of my private conversations and whoring them out. Why do you think I'm broke?”
There's another thing he doesn't mention, which is that he's always considered himself to be Da5id's equal, and he can't stand the idea of feeding off Da5id's little crumbs and tidbits, like a dog curled up under his table.
“I was glad to see Juanita come in here—even as a black-and-white,” Da5id says. “For her not to use The Black Sun—it's like Alexander Graham Bell refusing to use the telephone.”
“Why did she come in tonight?”
“Something's bugging her,” Da5id says. “She wanted to know if I'd seen certain people on the Street.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“She's worried about a really large guy with long black hair,” Da5id says. “Peddling something called—get this—Snow Crash.”
“Has she tried the Library?”
“Yeah. I assume so, anyway.”
“Have you seen this guy?”
“Oh, yeah. It's not hard to find him,” Da5id says. “He's right outside the door. I got this from him.”
Da5id scans the table, picks up one of the hypercards, and shows it to Hiro.
“Da5id,” Hiro says, “I can't believe you took a hypercard from a black-and-white person.”
Da5id laughs. “This is not the old days, my friend. I've got so much antiviral medicine in my system that nothing could get through. I get so much contaminated shit from all the hackers who come through here, it's like working in a plague ward. So I'm not afraid of whatever's in this hypercard.”
“Well, in that case, I'm curious,” Hiro says.
“Yeah. Me, too.” Da5id laughs.
“It's probably something very disappointing.”
“Probably an animercial,” Da5id agrees. “Think I should do it?”
“Yeah. Go for it. It's not every day you get to try out a new drug,” Hiro says.
“Well, you can try one every day if you want to,” Da5id says, “but it's not every day you find one that can't hurt you.” He picks up the hypercard and tears it in half.
For a second, nothing happens. “I'm waiting,” Da5id says.
An avatar materializes on the table in front of Da5id, starting out ghostly and transparent, gradually becoming solid and three-dimensional. It's a really trite effect; Hiro and Da5id are already laughing.
The avatar is a stark naked Brandy. It doesn't even look like the standard Brandy; this looks like one of the cheap Taiwanese Brandy knockoffs. Clearly, it's just a daemon. She is holding a pair of tubes in her hands, about the size of paper-towel rolls.
Da5id is leaning back in his chair, enjoying this. There is something hilariously tawdry about the entire scene.
The Brandy leans forward, beckoning Da5id toward her. Da5id leans into her face, grinning broadly. She puts her crude,
It is classic Da5id. He's talking with his heart again, bypassing his head. If Da5id weren't a hacker, Hiro would despair of his ever having enough brains to do anything.
“Let's talk about something else,” Hiro says. “Was I just hallucinating, or are you and Juanita on speaking terms again?”
Da5id gives him an indulgent smile. He has been very kind to Hiro ever since The Conversation, several years back. It was a conversation that started out as a friendly chat over beer and oysters between a couple of longtime comrades-in-arms. It was not until three-quarters of the way through The Conversation that it dawned on Hiro that he was, in fact, being fired, at this very moment. Since The Conversation, Da5id has been known to feed Hiro useful bits of intel and gossip from time to time.
“Fishing for something useful?” Da5id asks knowingly. Like many bitheads, Da5id is utterly guileless, but at times like this, he thinks he's the reincarnation of Machiavelli.
“I got news for you, man,” Hiro says. “Most of the stuff you give me, I never put into the Library.”
“Why not? Hell, I give you all my best gossip. I thought you were making money off that stuff.”
“I just can't stand it,” Hiro says, “taking parts of my private conversations and whoring them out. Why do you think I'm broke?”
There's another thing he doesn't mention, which is that he's always considered himself to be Da5id's equal, and he can't stand the idea of feeding off Da5id's little crumbs and tidbits, like a dog curled up under his table.
“I was glad to see Juanita come in here—even as a black-and-white,” Da5id says. “For her not to use The Black Sun—it's like Alexander Graham Bell refusing to use the telephone.”
“Why did she come in tonight?”
“Something's bugging her,” Da5id says. “She wanted to know if I'd seen certain people on the Street.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“She's worried about a really large guy with long black hair,” Da5id says. “Peddling something called—get this—Snow Crash.”
“Has she tried the Library?”
“Yeah. I assume so, anyway.”
“Have you seen this guy?”
“Oh, yeah. It's not hard to find him,” Da5id says. “He's right outside the door. I got this from him.”
Da5id scans the table, picks up one of the hypercards, and shows it to Hiro.
“Da5id,” Hiro says, “I can't believe you took a hypercard from a black-and-white person.”
Da5id laughs. “This is not the old days, my friend. I've got so much antiviral medicine in my system that nothing could get through. I get so much contaminated shit from all the hackers who come through here, it's like working in a plague ward. So I'm not afraid of whatever's in this hypercard.”
“Well, in that case, I'm curious,” Hiro says.
“Yeah. Me, too.” Da5id laughs.
“It's probably something very disappointing.”
“Probably an animercial,” Da5id agrees. “Think I should do it?”
“Yeah. Go for it. It's not every day you get to try out a new drug,” Hiro says.
“Well, you can try one every day if you want to,” Da5id says, “but it's not every day you find one that can't hurt you.” He picks up the hypercard and tears it in half.
For a second, nothing happens. “I'm waiting,” Da5id says.
An avatar materializes on the table in front of Da5id, starting out ghostly and transparent, gradually becoming solid and three-dimensional. It's a really trite effect; Hiro and Da5id are already laughing.
The avatar is a stark naked Brandy. It doesn't even look like the standard Brandy; this looks like one of the cheap Taiwanese Brandy knockoffs. Clearly, it's just a daemon. She is holding a pair of tubes in her hands, about the size of paper-towel rolls.
Da5id is leaning back in his chair, enjoying this. There is something hilariously tawdry about the entire scene.
The Brandy leans forward, beckoning Da5id toward her. Da5id leans into her face, grinning broadly. She puts her crude,
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