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'
Everybody
does
,
’
the
Finn
said
,
dropping
his
cigarette
and
grinding
it
out
under
his
heel
,
'
but
not
many
of
you
can
access
it
.
Artists
can
,
mostly
,
if
they
’
re
any
good
.
If
you
could
lay
this
construct
over
the
reality
,
the
Finn
’
s
place
in
lower
Manhattan
,
you
’
d
see
a
difference
,
but
maybe
not
as
much
as
you
’
d
think
.
Memory
’
s
holographic
,
for
you
.
’
The
Finn
tugged
at
one
of
his
small
ears
.
'
I
’
m
different
.
’
'
How
do
you
mean
,
holographic
?
’
The
word
made
him
think
of
Riviera
.
'
The
holographic
paradigm
is
the
closest
thing
you
’
ve
worked
out
to
a
representation
of
human
memory
,
is
all
.
But
you
’
ve
never
done
anything
about
it
.
People
,
I
mean
.
’
The
Finn
stepped
forward
and
canted
his
streamlined
skull
to
peer
up
at
Case
.
'
Maybe
if
you
had
,
I
wouldn
’
t
be
happening
.
’
'
What
’
s
that
supposed
to
mean
?
’
The
Finn
shrugged
.
His
tattered
tweed
was
too
wide
across
the
shoulders
,
and
didn
’
t
quite
settle
back
into
position
.
'
I
’
m
trying
to
help
you
,
Case
.
’
'
Why
?
’
'
Because
I
need
you
.
’
The
large
yellow
teeth
appeared
again
.
'
And
because
you
need
me
.
’
'
Bullshit
.
Can
you
read
my
mind
,
Finn
?
’
He
grimaced
.
'
Wintermute
,
I
mean
.
’
'
Minds
aren
’
t
read
.
See
,
you
’
ve
still
got
the
paradigms
print
gave
you
,
and
you
’
re
barely
print
-
literate
.
I
can
accessyour
memory
,
but
that
’
s
not
the
same
as
your
mind
.
’
He
reached
into
the
exposed
chassis
of
an
ancient
television
and
withdrew
a
silver
-
black
vacuum
tube
.
'
See
this
?
Part
of
my
DNA
,
sort
of
.
.
.
’
He
tossed
the
thing
into
the
shadows
and
Case
heard
it
pop
and
tinkle
.
'
You
’
re
always
building
models
.
Stone
circles
.
Cathedrals
.
Pipe
-
organs
.
Adding
machines
.
I
got
no
idea
why
I
’
m
here
now
,
you
know
that
?
But
if
the
run
goes
off
tonight
,
you
’
ll
have
finally
managed
the
real
thing
.
’
