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"
That
’
s
right
,
and
we
’
re
still
a
long
way
off
it
,
"
said
Ortega
.
"
Why
don
’
t
you
sit
down
,
Kadmin
.
"
"
No
thank
you
.
"
"
I
said
sit
,
motherfucker
.
"
There
was
an
abrupt
undercurrent
of
steel
in
the
cop
’
s
voice
,
and
magically
Kadmin
blinked
off
and
reappeared
seated
at
the
table
.
His
face
betrayed
a
momentary
flash
of
rage
at
the
displacement
,
but
then
it
was
gone
and
he
unfolded
his
arms
in
an
ironic
gesture
.
"
You
’
re
right
,
it
’
s
so
much
more
comfortable
like
this
.
Won
’
t
you
both
join
me
?
"
We
took
our
seats
in
the
more
conventional
way
,
and
I
stared
at
Kadmin
as
we
did
it
.
It
was
the
first
time
I
’
d
seen
anything
quite
like
it
.
He
was
the
Patchwork
Man
.
Most
virtual
systems
recreate
you
from
self
images
held
in
the
memory
,
with
a
common
-
sense
sub
-
routine
to
prevent
your
delusions
from
impinging
too
much
.
I
generally
come
out
a
little
taller
and
thinner
in
the
face
than
I
usually
am
.
In
this
case
,
the
system
seemed
to
have
scrambled
a
myriad
different
perceptions
from
Kadmin
’
s
presumably
long
list
of
sleeves
.
I
’
d
seen
it
done
before
,
as
a
technique
,
but
most
of
us
grow
rapidly
attached
to
whatever
sleeve
we
’
re
living
in
,
and
that
form
blanks
out
previous
incarnations
.
We
are
,
after
all
,
evolved
to
relate
to
the
physical
world
.
The
man
in
front
of
me
was
different
.
His
frame
was
that
of
a
Caucasian
Nordic
,
topping
mine
by
nearly
thirty
centimetres
,
but
the
face
was
at
odds
.
It
began
African
,
broad
and
deep
ebony
,
but
the
colour
ended
like
a
mask
under
the
eyes
and
the
lower
half
was
divided
along
the
line
of
the
nose
,
pale
copper
on
the
left
,
corpse
white
on
the
right
.
The
nose
was
both
fleshy
and
aquiline
and
mediated
well
between
the
top
and
bottom
halves
of
the
face
,
but
the
mouth
was
a
mismatch
of
left
and
right
sides
that
left
the
lips
peculiarly
twisted
.
Long
straight
black
hair
was
combed
mane
-
like
back
from
the
forehead
,
shot
through
on
one
side
with
pure
white
.
The
hands
,
immobile
on
the
metal
table
,
were
equipped
with
claws
similar
to
the
ones
I
’
d
seen
on
the
giant
freak
fighter
in
Licktown
,
hut
the
fingers
were
long
and
sensitive
.
He
had
breasts
,
impossibly
full
on
a
torso
so
overmuscled
.
The
eyes
,
set
in
jet
skin
,
were
a
startling
pale
green
.
Kadmin
had
freed
himself
from
conventional
perceptions
of
the
physical
.
In
an
earlier
age
,
he
would
have
been
a
shaman
;
here
,
the
centuries
of
technology
had
made
him
more
.
An
electronic
demon
,
a
malignant
spirit
that
dwelled
in
altered
carbon
and
emerged
only
to
possess
flesh
and
wreak
havoc
.
He
would
have
made
a
fine
Envoy
.
