Read Online Neuromancer by William Gibson - Free Book Online

tense made him nervous.
    “You know that the Dixie Flatline’s dead?”
    He nodded. “Heart, I heard.”
    “You’ll be working with his construct.” She smiled. “Taught youthe ropes, huh? Him and Quine. I know Quine, by the way. Real asshole.”
    “Somebody’s got a recording of McCoy Pauley? Who?” Now Case sat, and rested his elbows
     on the table. “I can’t see it. He’d never have sat still for it.”
    “Sense/Net. Paid him mega, you bet your ass.”
    “Quine dead too?”
    “No such luck. He’s in Europe. He doesn’t come into this.”
    “Well, if we can get the Flatline, we’re home free. He was the best. You know he died
     braindeath three times?”
    She nodded.
    “Flatlined on his EEG. Showed me tapes. ‘Boy, I was daid .’ ”
    “Look, Case, I been trying to suss out who it is is backing Armitage since I signed
     on. But it doesn’t feel like a zaibatsu, a government, or some Yakuza subsidiary.
     Armitage gets orders. Like something tells him to go off to Chiba, pick up a pillhead
     who’s making one last wobble through the burnout belt, and trade a program for the
     operation that’ll fix him up. We coulda bought twenty world class cowboys for what
     the market was ready to pay for that surgical program. You were good, but not that good. . . .” She scratched the side of her nose.
    “Obviously makes sense to somebody,” he said. “Somebody big.”
    “Don’t let me hurt your feelings.” She grinned. “We’re gonna be pulling one hardcore
     run, Case, just to get the Flatline’s construct. Sense/Net has it locked in a library
     vault uptown. Tighter than an eel’s ass, Case. Now, Sense/Net, they got all their
     new material for the fall season locked in there too. Steal that and we’d be richer
     than shit. But no, we gotta get us the Flatline and nothing else. Weird.”
    “Yeah, it’s all weird. You’re weird, this hole’s weird, and who’s the weird little
     gopher outside in the hall?”
    “Finn’s an old connection of mine. Fence, mostly. Software. This privacy biz is a
     sideline. But I got Armitage to let him be our tech here, so when he shows up later,
     you never saw him. Got it?”
    “So what’s Armitage got dissolving inside you?”
    “I’m an easy make.” She smiled. “Anybody any good at what they do, that’s what they are , right? You gotta jack, I gotta tussle.”
    He stared at her. “So tell me what you know about Armitage.”
    “For starters, nobody named Armitage took part in any Screaming Fist. I checked. But
     that doesn’t mean much. He doesn’t look like any of the pics of the guys who got out.”
     She shrugged. “Big deal. And starters is all I got.” She drummed her nails on the
     back of the chair. “But you are a cowboy, aren’t you? I mean, maybe you could have a little look around.” She smiled.
    “He’d kill me.”
    “Maybe. Maybe not. I think he needs you, Case, and real bad. Besides, you’re a clever
     john, no? You can winkle him, sure.”
    “What else is on that list you mentioned?”
    “Toys. Mostly for you. And one certified psychopath name of Peter Riviera. Real ugly
     customer.”
    “Where’s he?”
    “Dunno. But he’s one sick fuck, no lie. I saw his profile.” She made a face. “Godawful.”
     She stood up and stretched, catlike. “So we got an axis going, boy? We’re together
     in this? Partners?”
    Case looked at her. “I gotta lotta choice, huh?”
    She laughed. “You got it, cowboy.”
    “T HE MATRIX HAS its roots in primitive arcade games,” said the voice-over, “in early graphics programs
     and military experimentation with cranial jacks.” On the Sony, a two-dimensional space
     war faded behind a forest of mathematically generated ferns, demonstrating the spacial
     possibilities of logarithmic spirals; cold blue military footage burned through, lab
     animals wired into test systems, helmets feeding into fire control circuits of tanks
     and war planes. “Cyberspace. A consensual