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THE SKY ABOVE the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.
His ugliness was the stuff of legend. In an age of affordable beauty, there was something heraldic about his lack of it.
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.
“Cyberspace. A consensual hallucination experienced daily by billions of legitimate operators, in every nation, by children being taught mathematical concepts . . . A graphic representation of data abstracted from the banks of every computer in the human system. Unthinkable complexity. Lines of light ranged in the nonspace of the mind, clusters and constellations of data. Like city lights, receding. . . .”
I prefer situations to plans, you see. . . . Really, I’ve had to deal with givens.
No hum of biz here, only a glazed sexual tension.
Bad luck, it’ll do that sometimes, get you down to basics.”
You may be the statistical animal, darling, and Case is nothing but, but I possess a quality unquantifiable by its very nature.” He drank. “And what exactly is that, Peter?” Molly asked, her voice flat. Riviera beamed. “Perversity.”
