-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Уильям Гибсон
-
- Нейромант
-
- Стр. 4/285
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
For
Case
,
who
’
d
lived
for
the
bodiless
exultation
of
cyberspace
,
it
was
the
Fall
.
In
the
bars
he
’
d
frequented
as
a
cowboy
hotshot
,
the
elite
stance
involved
a
certain
relaxed
contempt
for
the
flesh
.
The
body
was
meat
.
Case
fell
into
the
prison
of
his
own
flesh
.
His
total
assets
were
quickly
converted
to
New
Yen
,
a
fat
sheaf
of
the
old
paper
currency
that
circulated
endlessly
through
the
closed
circuit
of
the
world
’
s
black
markets
like
the
seashells
of
the
Trobriand
islanders
.
It
was
difficult
to
transact
legitimate
business
with
cash
in
the
Sprawl
;
in
Japan
,
it
was
already
illegal
.
In
Japan
,
he
’
d
known
with
a
clenched
and
absolute
certainty
,
he
’
d
find
his
cure
.
In
Chiba
.
Either
in
a
registered
clinic
or
in
the
shadowland
of
black
medicine
.
Synonymous
with
implants
,
nerve
-
splicing
,
and
microbionics
,
Chiba
was
a
magnet
for
the
Sprawl
’
s
techno
-
criminal
subcultures
.
In
Chiba
,
he
’
d
watched
his
New
Yen
vanish
in
a
two
-
month
round
of
examinations
and
consultations
.
The
men
in
the
black
clinics
,
his
last
hope
,
had
admired
the
expertise
with
which
he
’
d
been
maimed
,
and
then
slowly
shaken
their
heads
.
Now
he
slept
in
the
cheapest
coffins
,
the
ones
nearest
the
port
,
beneath
the
quartz
-
halogen
floods
that
lit
the
docks
all
night
like
vast
stages
;
where
you
couldn
’
t
see
the
lights
of
Tokyo
for
the
glare
of
the
television
sky
,
not
even
the
towering
hologram
logo
of
the
Fuji
Electric
Company
,
and
Tokyo
Bay
was
a
black
expanse
where
gulls
wheeled
above
drifting
shoals
of
white
styrofoam
.
Behind
the
port
lay
the
city
,
factory
domes
dominated
by
the
vast
cubes
of
corporate
arcologies
.
Port
and
city
were
divided
by
a
narrow
borderland
of
older
streets
,
an
area
with
no
official
name
.
Night
City
,
with
Ninsei
its
heart
.
By
day
,
the
bars
down
Ninsei
were
shuttered
and
featureless
,
the
neon
dead
,
the
holograms
inert
,
waiting
,
under
the
poisoned
silver
sky
.
Two
blocks
west
of
the
Chat
,
in
a
teashop
called
the
Jarre
de
Th
,
Case
washed
down
the
night
’
s
first
pill
with
a
double
espresso
.
It
was
a
flat
pink
octagon
,
a
potent
species
of
Brazilian
dex
he
bought
from
one
of
Zone
’
s
girls
.
The
Jarre
was
walled
with
mirrors
,
each
panel
framed
in
red
neon
.
At
first
,
finding
himself
alone
in
Chiba
,
with
little
money
and
less
hope
of
finding
a
cure
,
he
’
d
gone
into
a
kind
of
terminal
overdrive
,
hustling
fresh
capital
with
a
cold
intensity
that
had
seemed
to
belong
to
someone
else
.
In
the
first
month
,
he
’
d
killed
two
men
and
a
woman
over
sums
that
a
year
before
would
have
seemed
ludicrous
.
Ninsei
wore
him
down
until
the
street
itself
came
to
seem
the
externalization
of
some
death
wish
,
some
secret
poison
he
hadn
’
t
known
he
carried
.
Night
City
was
like
a
deranged
experiment
in
social
Darwinism
,
designed
by
a
bored
researcher
who
kept
one
thumb
permanently
on
the
fast
-
forward
button
.
Stop
hustling
and
you
sank
without
a
trace
,
but
move
a
little
too
swiftly
and
you
’
d
break
the
fragile
surface
tension
of
the
black
market
;
either
way
,
you
were
gone
,
with
nothing
left
of
you
but
some
vague
memory
in
the
mind
of
a
fixture
like
Ratz
,
though
heart
or
lungs
or
kidneys
might
survive
in
the
service
of
some
stranger
with
New
Yen
for
the
clinic
tanks
.
