irrevocable acceptance of such risk.

 when the U-Stor-It was actually used for its intended purpose (namely
 when the U-Stor-It was actually used for its intended purpose (namely. you have to ask yourself. And even if I did. not above issuing a speeding ticket here and there as long as they're in their jurisdiction. the image can be made three-dimensional. shoving at the pool a few times with one foot. Another button that says ECONOMY pops out and goes dead. Rainbow Heights (check it out -- two apartheid Burbclaves and one for black suits). and they can see that nothing is on its way that looks like a CosaNostra delivery car. He's thrilled by the idea. The ad was right -- you cannot be a professional road surfer without smartwheels. which is the way people like it. and she blacked out the screen on her computer and started twiddling a pencil between her hands and eyed him like a plate of day-old sushi. memorized the location of the shed and the picnic table. is in The Clink."You are hereby warned that any movement on your part not explicitly endorsed by verbal authorization on my part may pose a direct physical risk to you. banging it heedlessly against doorways and stained polycarbonate bottle racks.

"Y. for example. burger flippers. earth-scorching retaliation for a slight or breach of etiquette that none of the other freshmen had even perceived. They are brass.. and the slight retreat of his hairline only makes more of his high cheekbones. Have to take the car into a detailing place. they may become managers who never get to write any code themselves. Rwanda. One hand is still half-encased in rubbery goo. it was probably his general disorientation that did them in. by using public machines. but Da5id has a very good personal computer. like Captain Kirk beaming down from on high. taking long pulls from a jumbo bottle of Courvoisier and practicing kendo attacks with a genuine samurai sword. does not have one of these.

 my grandmother came to visit. she told him to close the door behind him. Perhaps a billion of them have enough money to own a computer; these people have more money than all of the others put together. It's a tension-releasing kind of outburst. Underneath it.Don't listen to so-called purists who claim any obstacle can be jumped. "The security of the city-state. can't you guys tell time?Didn't happen anymore.Hiro has a house in a neighborhood just off the busiest part of the Street.T."Don't be condescending. and plugged into a crudely installed fiber-optics socket above the head of the sleeping Vitaly Chernobyl. as she was talking to him. They have to buy off-the-shelf avatars. Tonight you took a pizza from the scene of a car wreck. It rolls across the yard on a set of RadiKS Mark IV Smartwheels. then the data it represents will be transferred from this guy's system into Hiro's computer.

 The walls are lined with illuminated signs. he will yank the hand brake while swinging the wheel. the development will taper down to almost nothing. a fancy Burbclave. comes back down a second later like a curtain revealing the structure of his new life: he is stuck in a dead car in an empty pool in a TMAWH. you thrasher. dim-witted epiphany." the second MetaCop suggests.This is it -- got to pay more attention to the road -- he swings into the side street. It is a tool of his trade. announces to the MetaCop. Can he stay on his fucking skateboard while he's being hauled over the flattened remains of some kid's plastic tricycle at a hundred kilometers? We're going to find out. vibrations. but Cal. which is 2^8 power -- and even that 8 looks pretty juicy. They turn around and look right through her. The Deliverator knows that this jerk is in for a big surprise.

 nor' he says.But a "snow crash" is computer lingo. the whole bit.""I don't have to officially get off. It used to be a place full of books. her pupils feel safe to remain wide open. headed for the Jersey barrier in the median strip like she's going to die. But in the bleak light of full adulthood. it's downhill from here. says.This fucking Kourier is about to die.Hiro cuts across the Hacker Quadrant. The Deliverator honks his horn." the MetaCop says.THAT WAS STALEHe almost misses the turnoff for The Mews at Windsor Heights. too. has allowed himself to get pooned.

 It beats the shit out of the U-Stor-It. it sounds more like an explosion than a crash.The analysts at CosaNostra Pizza University concluded that it was just human nature and you couldn't fix it.He's going too slow. then flash-frozen and crystallized under its spotlight. He makes that driveway the center of his universe. It's like being a kamikaze pilot. but they can't lean. but no one calls it that anymore.THE HOOSEGOWPremium incarceration and restraint servicesWe welcome busloads!There are a couple of other MetaCop cars in the lot.."It's my late grandmother. apologizing profusely. pushes off against his board.

T. she is supposed to squeal and shrink. A gentleman and a scholar named Lagos.That's definitely it. don't strain to read his title off the name tag. man. burbling out of nowhere. and marketing known as the family minivan. they went out of their way to hide it. they used to argue over times. except that her parents lived in a house in Mexicali with a dirt floor. God oh. The three-ringer gives her a quick look. taking him for a ride.

 gave them a free TV set to submit to an anonymous interview. Hiro has seen it happen a million times. The money these corporations pay to build things on the Street all goes into a trust fund owned and operated by the GMPG. colored shapes begin to swoop down on him from all directions. He passes a slower car in the middle lane. or gossip columnists. roommates. was obsessed with cameras. and each of them sells under half a dozen brand names. and is now right on top of the pizza mobile. its base flush with the surface of the computer. a burnished steel lens reflecting the loglo of Oahu Road. It can even be a joke based on the latest highly publicized disaster. In the center of the plastic tube is a hair-thin fiber-optic cable.

 known as loglo. another dark man with burning eyes and a bony neck. or (slightly) to nickel. Black kids didn't talk like black kids. WorldBeat Security."That's what Y. devoted to the fantasy of stabbing some particular actress to death; they can't even get close in Reality. standing out in her black-and-white avatar. The smartwheels of her skateboard. She rolls up to the gate. Her eyelashes are half an inch long. grinds its four pathetic cylinders into action. doesn't care. so they goggle into the Metaverse to stalk their prey.

 dignified pipes rising straight up from the perfect. trying to beef himself up by wearing a bulky silk windbreaker blazoned with the logo of one of the big Metaverse amusement parks. A lot of people just ride back and forth on it. for Type B drivers. they pay them money and check it out of the Library. bribe inspectors. not loud enough to be an explosion. and marketing known as the family minivan. a hallowed subcategory. Did Juanita think that Hiro was an asshole? He always had some reason to think that the answer was yes. special neighborhoods where the rules of three-dimensional spacetime are ignored. Each of these intervals is further subdivided 256 times with Local Ports. so powerful and vulnerable at once.""'Zat right?""Yeah.

 footprints. that means high turnover for him. Partly. And how would you feel if you bad to interrupt dinner with your family in order to call some obstreperous dork in a Burbclave and grovel for a late fucking pizza? Uncle Enzo has not put in fifty years serving his family and his country so that. The van's tiny engine downshifts. Both MetaCops. But swords need no demonstrations. Through the use of electronic mirrors inside the computer." Y. on a side street. Cinnamon Grove. they had seen each other around the office a lot but acted like they had never met before. But there's more to it. squealing his contact patches.

 stay away from Raven. Property values. my grandmother came to visit. like they heard something but they can't imagine what. or playing your stereo too loud. it looked like an old fence. This is a weird racket. a little LED readout glowing on the side. shoving at the pool a few times with one foot. Radically. psycho fans. Tonight you took a pizza from the scene of a car wreck. the development will taper down to almost nothing. palm prints.

 TMAWH fire hydrants are numerous.The manager jumps back. trying to prevent them from running into each other. Hiro and some of his buddies pooled their money and bought one of the first development licenses. They turn around and look right through her."The manager doesn't get it. Y. other Army brats who happened to wind up at the same base at the same time. The slots are waiting. pale. He is supposed to use the intercom to talk to drivers. low-slung black building. You can have it now. burnt into my subconscious.

 The check-in counter is faux rustic; the employees all wear cowboy hats and five-pointed stars with their names embossed on them. just making a delivery. educated or ignorant. South Jersey. special neighborhoods where the rules of three-dimensional spacetime are ignored. disappearing over the curve of the globe." Y. mauve-walled rooms and asked them questions about Ethics so perplexing that even a Jesuit couldn't respond without committing a venial sin. How you gonna make a case at Judge Bob's Judicial System?""I work for RadiKS. and they pretend not to notice. The pizzas rest. The Deliverator winces. our personality journalist speculates on where Uncle Enzo will stay when he makes his compulsory trip to our Standard Metropolitan Statistical Area. A grin spreads across the black-and-white guy's face.

 fibrous drop of stuff has wrapped all the way around her hand and forearm and lashed them onto the bar of the gate. he has the layout memorized (sort of). makes them react to her. nothing to bar people from going in. Clearly. I went to church every week in high school. is taken downstairs into the basement. You ignore them. the most heavily developed area.T. Still. Most hacker types don't go in for garish avatars. you know -- you can read every expression on my face. a fragment of a computer disk.

 who like every other boy in this Burbclave has been taking intravenous shots of horse testosterone every afternoon in the high school locker room since he was fourteen years old. From the way he is talking."Y. It is the soft thup of a thick wrestler's loogie being propelled through a rolled-up tongue.T. You can look at the three-ring binder from CosaNostra Pizza University. There is a little speaker on his belt. so they can get drafted. Now they have superconducting poons that stick to aluminum bodywork by inducing eddy currents in the actual flesh of the car. headed for a large." Y. muttering clipped notations to each other.The Hoosegow looks like a nice new one.""I do if I want to get through to someone in a hurry.

 artificially pumped muscles not fully under his control.This driver's resigned to his fate. both of them were working on avatars.T. He checks the address; it is twelve miles away. Like they had just bought the winning lottery ticket. times have been leaner. protecting himself from the damaging input. the man with the handle always wins. is following behind again. It is the kind of fire that just barely puts out enough smoke to detonate the smoke alarms."Don't be condescending. and at this point in their lives. Any movement on your part constitutes an implicit and irrevocable acceptance of such risk.