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'
Just
can
’
t
see
you
the
kinda
guy
goes
for
the
puppets
,
’
Cath
said
unhappily
,
thumbing
a
fresh
derm
against
her
wrist
.
'
Can
we
go
home
,
now
?
’
Bruce
asked
.
'
Sure
.
Drop
me
down
Jules
Verne
,
where
the
bars
are
.
’
Rue
Jules
Verne
was
a
circumferential
avenue
,
looping
the
spindle
’
s
midpoint
,
while
Desiderata
ran
its
length
,
terminating
at
either
end
in
the
supports
of
the
Lado
-
Acheson
light
pumps
.
If
you
turned
right
,
off
Desiderata
,
and
followed
Jules
Verne
far
enough
,
you
’
d
find
yourself
approaching
Desiderata
from
the
left
.
Case
watched
Bruce
’
s
trike
until
it
was
out
of
sight
,
then
turned
and
walked
past
a
vast
,
brilliantly
lit
newsstand
,
the
covers
of
dozens
of
glossy
Japanese
magazines
presenting
the
faces
of
the
month
’
s
newest
simstim
stars
.
Directly
overhead
,
along
the
nighted
axis
,
the
hologram
sky
glittered
with
fanciful
constellations
suggesting
playing
cards
,
the
faces
of
dice
,
a
top
hat
,
a
martini
glass
.
The
intersection
of
Desiderata
and
Jules
Verne
formed
a
kind
of
gulch
,
the
balconied
terraces
of
Freeside
cliff
dwellers
rising
gradually
to
the
grassy
tablelands
of
another
casino
complex
.
Case
watched
a
drone
microlight
bank
gracefully
in
an
updraft
at
the
green
verge
of
an
artificial
mesa
,
lit
for
seconds
by
the
soft
glow
of
the
invisible
casino
.
The
thing
was
a
kind
of
pilotless
biplane
of
gossamer
polymer
,
its
wings
silkscreened
to
resemble
a
giant
butterfly
.
Then
it
was
gone
,
beyond
the
mesa
’
s
edge
.
He
’
d
seen
a
wink
of
reflected
neon
off
glass
,
either
lenses
or
the
turrets
of
lasers
.
The
drones
were
part
of
the
spindle
’
s
security
system
,
controlled
by
some
central
computer
.
In
Straylight
?
He
walked
on
,
past
bars
named
the
Hi
-
Lo
,
the
Paradise
,
le
Monde
,
Cricketeer
.
Shozoku
Smith
’
s
,
Emergency
.
He
chose
Emergency
because
it
was
the
smallest
and
most
crowded
,
but
it
took
only
seconds
for
him
to
realize
that
it
was
a
tourist
place
.
No
hum
of
biz
here
,
only
a
glazed
sexual
tension
.
He
thought
briefly
of
the
nameless
club
above
Molly
’
s
rented
cubicle
,
but
the
image
of
her
mirrored
eyes
fixed
on
the
little
screen
dissuaded
him
.
What
was
Wintermute
revealing
there
now
?
The
ground
plans
of
the
Villa
Straylight
?
The
history
of
the
Tessier
-
Ashpools
?
He
bought
a
mug
of
Carlsberg
and
found
a
place
against
the
wall
.
Closing
his
eyes
,
he
felt
for
the
knot
of
rage
,
the
pure
small
coal
of
his
anger
.
It
was
there
still
.
Where
had
it
come
from
?
He
remembered
feeling
only
a
kind
of
bafflement
at
his
maiming
in
Memphis
,
nothing
at
all
when
he
’
d
killed
to
defend
his
dealing
interests
in
Night
City
,
and
a
slack
sickness
and
loathing
after
Linda
’
s
death
under
the
inflated
dome
.
But
no
anger
.
Small
and
far
away
,
on
the
mind
’
s
screen
,
a
semblance
of
Deane
struck
a
semblance
of
an
office
wall
in
an
explosion
of
brains
and
blood
.
He
knew
then
:
the
rage
had
come
in
the
arcade
,
when
Wintermute
rescinded
the
simstim
ghost
of
Linda
Lee
,
yanking
away
the
simple
animal
promise
of
food
,
warmth
,
a
place
to
sleep
.
But
he
hadn
’
t
become
aware
of
it
until
his
exchange
with
the
holo
-
construct
of
Lonny
Zone
.
It
was
a
strange
thing
.
He
couldn
’
t
take
its
measure
.
