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- Уильям Гибсон
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Her
body
language
was
disorienting
,
her
style
foreign
.
She
seemed
continually
on
the
verge
of
colliding
with
someone
,
but
people
melted
out
of
her
way
,
stepped
sideways
,
made
room
.
'
How
you
doing
.
Case
?
’
He
heard
the
words
and
felt
her
form
them
.
She
slid
a
hand
into
her
jacket
,
a
fingertip
circling
a
nipple
under
warm
silk
.
The
sensation
made
him
catch
his
breath
.
She
laughed
.
But
the
link
was
one
-
way
.
He
had
no
way
to
reply
.
Two
blocks
later
,
she
was
threading
the
outskirts
of
Memory
Lane
.
Case
kept
trying
to
jerk
her
eyes
toward
landmarks
he
would
have
used
to
find
his
way
.
He
began
to
find
the
passivity
of
the
situation
irritating
.
The
transition
to
cyberspace
,
when
he
hit
the
switch
,
was
instantaneous
.
He
punched
himself
down
a
wall
of
primitive
ice
belonging
to
the
New
York
Public
Library
automatically
counting
potential
windows
.
Keying
back
into
her
sensorium
,
into
the
sinuous
flow
of
muscle
,
senses
sharp
and
bright
.
He
found
himself
wondering
about
the
mind
he
shared
these
sensations
with
.
What
did
he
know
about
her
?
That
she
was
another
professional
;
that
she
said
her
being
,
like
his
,
was
the
thing
she
did
to
make
a
living
.
He
knew
the
way
she
’
d
moved
against
him
,
earlier
,
when
she
woke
,
their
mutual
grunt
of
unity
when
he
’
d
entered
her
,
and
that
she
liked
her
coffee
black
,
afterward
.
.
.
Her
destination
was
one
of
the
dubious
software
rental
complexes
that
lined
Memory
Lane
.
There
was
a
stillness
,
a
hush
.
Booths
lined
a
central
hall
.
The
clientele
were
young
,
few
of
them
out
of
their
teens
.
They
all
seemed
to
have
carbon
sockets
planted
behind
the
left
ear
,
but
she
didn
’
t
focus
on
them
.
The
counters
that
fronted
the
booths
displayed
hundreds
of
slivers
of
microsoft
,
angular
fragments
of
colored
silicon
mounted
under
oblong
transparent
bubbles
on
squares
of
white
cardboard
.
Molly
went
to
the
seventh
booth
along
the
south
wall
.
Behind
the
counter
a
boy
with
a
shaven
head
stared
vacantly
into
space
,
a
dozen
spikes
of
microsoft
protruding
from
the
socket
behind
his
ear
.
'
Larry
,
you
in
,
man
?
’
She
positioned
herself
in
front
of
him
.
The
boy
’
s
eyes
focused
.
He
sat
up
in
his
chair
and
pried
a
bright
magenta
splinter
from
his
socket
with
a
dirty
thumbnail
.
'
Hey
,
Larry
.
’
'
Molly
.
’
He
nodded
.
