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Neuromancer
The
sky
above
the
port
was
the
color
of
television
,
tuned
to
a
dead
channel
.
'
It
’
s
not
like
I
’
m
using
,
’
Case
heard
someone
say
,
as
he
shouldered
his
way
through
the
crowd
around
the
door
of
the
Chat
.
'
It
’
s
like
my
body
’
s
developed
this
massive
drug
deficiency
.
’
It
was
a
Sprawl
voice
and
a
Sprawl
joke
.
The
Chatsubo
was
a
bar
for
professional
expatriates
;
you
could
drink
there
for
a
week
and
never
hear
two
words
in
Japanese
.
Ratz
was
tending
bar
,
his
prosthetic
arm
jerking
monotonously
as
he
filled
a
tray
of
glasses
with
draft
Kirin
.
He
saw
Case
and
smiled
,
his
teeth
a
webwork
of
East
European
steel
and
brown
decay
.
Case
found
a
place
at
the
bar
,
between
the
unlikely
tan
on
one
of
Lonny
Zone
’
s
whores
and
the
crisp
naval
uniform
of
a
tall
African
whose
cheekbones
were
ridged
with
precise
rows
of
tribal
scars
.
'
Wage
was
in
here
early
,
with
two
joeboys
,
’
Ratz
said
,
shoving
a
draft
across
the
bar
with
his
good
hand
.
'
Maybe
some
business
with
you
,
Case
?
’
Case
shrugged
.
The
girl
to
his
right
giggled
and
nudged
him
.
The
bartender
’
s
smile
widened
.
His
ugliness
was
the
stuff
of
legend
.
In
an
age
of
affordable
beauty
,
there
was
something
heraldic
about
his
lack
of
it
.
The
antique
arm
whined
as
he
reached
for
another
mug
.
It
was
a
Russian
military
prosthesis
,
a
seven
-
function
force
-
feedback
manipulator
,
cased
in
grubby
pink
plastic
.
'
You
are
too
much
the
artiste
,
Herr
Case
.
’
Ratz
grunted
;
the
sound
served
him
as
laughter
.
He
scratched
his
overhang
of
white
-
shirted
belly
with
the
pink
claw
.
'
You
are
the
artiste
of
the
slightly
funny
deal
.
’
'
Sure
,
’
Case
said
,
and
sipped
his
beer
.
'
Somebody
’
s
gotta
be
funny
around
here
.
Sure
the
fuck
isn
’
t
you
.
’
The
whore
’
s
giggle
went
up
an
octave
.
'
Isn
’
t
you
either
,
sister
.
So
you
vanish
,
okay
?
Zone
,
he
’
s
a
close
personal
friend
of
mine
.
’
She
looked
Case
in
the
eye
and
made
the
softest
possible
spitting
sound
,
her
lips
barely
moving
.
But
she
left
.
'
Jesus
,
’
Case
said
,
'
what
kinda
creepjoint
you
running
here
?
Man
can
’
t
have
a
drink
.
’
