As Hiro approaches the Street, he sees two young couples, probably using their parents' computers for a double date in the Metaverse, climbing down out of Port Zero, which is the local port of entry and monorail stop.
He is not seeing real people, of course. This is all a part of the moving illustration drawn1 by his computer according to specifications2 coming down the fiber-optic cable. The people are pieces of software called avatars. They are the audiovisual bodies that people use to communicate with each other in the Metaverse. Hiro's avatar is now on the Street, too, and if the couples coming off the monorail look over in his direction, they can see him, just as he's seeing them. They could strike up a conversation: Hiro in the U-Stor-It in L.A. and the four teenagers probably on a couch in a suburb of Chicago, each with their own laptop. But they probably won't talk to each other, any more than they would in Reality. These are nice kids, and they don't want to talk to a solitary3 crossbreed with a slick custom avatar who's packing a couple of swords.
Your avatar can look any way you want it to, up to the limitations of your equipment. If you're ugly, you can make your avatar beautiful. If you've just gotten out of bed, your avatar can still be wearing beautiful clothes and professionally applied4 makeup5. You can look like a gorilla6 or a dragon or a giant talking penis in the Metaverse. Spend five minutes walking down the Street and you will see all of these.
Hiro's avatar just looks like Hiro, with the difference that no matter what Hiro is wearing in Reality, his avatar always wears a black leather kimono. Most hacker7 types don't go in for garish8 avatars, because they know that it takes a lot more sophistication to render a realistic human face than a talking penis. Kind of the way people who really know clothing can appreciate the fine details that separate a cheap gray wool suit from an expensive hand-tailored gray wool suit.
You can't just materialize anywhere in the Metaverse, like Captain Kirk beaming down from on high. This would be confusing and irritating to the people around you. It would break the metaphor9. Materializing out of nowhere (or vanishing back into Reality) is considered to be a private function best done in the confines of your own House. Most avatars nowadays are anatomically correct, and naked as a babe when they are first created, so in any case, you have to make yourself decent before you emerge onto the Street. Unless you're something intrinsically indecent and you don't care.
If you are some peon who does not own a House, for example, a person who is coming in from a public terminal, then you materialize in a Port. There are 256 Express Ports on the street, evenly spaced around its circumference11 at intervals12 of 256 kilometers. Each of these intervals is further subdivided13 256 times with Local Ports, spaced exactly one kilometer apart (astute students of hacker semiotics will note the obsessive14 repetition of the number 256, which is 2^8 power -- and even that 8 looks pretty juicy, dripping with 2^2 additional 2s). The Ports serve a function analogous15 to airports: This is where you drop into the Metaverse from somewhere else. Once you have materialized in a Port, you can walk down the Street or hop16 on the monorail or whatever.
The couples coming off the monorail can't afford to have custom avatars made and don't know how to write their own. They have to buy off-the-shelf avatars. One of the girls has a pretty nice one. It would be considered quite the fashion statement among the K-Tel set. Looks like she has bought the Avatar Construction Set(tm) and put together her own, customized model out of miscellaneous parts. It might even look something like its owner. Her date doesn't look half bad himself.
The other girl is a Brandy. Her date is a Clint. Brandy and Clint are both popular, off-the-shelf models. When white-trash high school girls are going on a date in the Metaverse, they invariably run down to the computer-games section of the local Wal-Mart and buy a copy of Brandy. The user can select three breast sizes: improbable, impossible, and ludicrous. Brandy has a limited repertoire17 of facial expressions: cute and pouty18; cute and sultry; perky and interested; smiling and receptive; cute and spacy. Her eyelashes are half an inch long, and the software is so cheap that they are rendered as solid ebony chips. When a Brandy flutters her eyelashes, you can almost feel the breeze.
Clint is just the male counterpart of Brandy. He is craggy and handsome and has an extremely limited range of facial expressions.
Hiro wonders, idly, how these two couples got together. They are clearly from disparate social classes. Perhaps older and younger siblings19. But then they come down the escalator and disappear into the crowd and become part of the Street, where there are enough Clints and Brandys to found a new ethnic20 group.
The Street is fairly busy. Most of the people here are Americans and Asians -- it's early morning in Europe right now. Because of the preponderance of Americans, the crowd has a garish and surreal look about it. For the Asians, it's the middle of the day, and they are in their dark blue suits. For the Americans, it's party time, and they are looking like just about anything a computer can render.
The moment Hiro steps across the line separating his neighborhood from the Street, colored shapes begin to swoop21 down on him from all directions, like buzzards on fresh road kill. Animerda is are not allowed in Hiro's neighborhood. But almost anything is allowed in the Street.
A passing fighter plane bursts into flames, falls out of its trajectory22, and zooms23 directly toward him at twice the speed of sound. It plows24 into the Street fifty feet in front of him, disintegrates25, and explodes, blooming into a tangled26 cloud of wreckage27 and flame that skids28 across the pavement toward him, growing to envelop29 him so that all he can see is turbulent flame, perfectly30 simulated and rendered.
Then the display freezes, and a man materializes in front of Hiro. He is a classic bearded, pale, skinny hacker, trying to beef himself up by wearing a bulky silk windbreaker blazoned31 with the logo of one of the big Metaverse amusement parks. Hiro knows the guy; they used to run into each other at trade conventions all the time. He's been trying to hire Hiro for the last two months.
"Hiro, I can't understand why you're holding out on me. We're making bucks32 here -- Kongbucks and yen33 -- and we can be flexible on pay and bennies. We're putting together a swords-and-sorcery thing, and we can use a hacker with your skills. Come on down and talk to me, okay?"
Him walks straight through the display, and it vanishes. Amusement parks in the Metaverse can be fantastic, offering a wide selection of interactive34 three-dimensional movies. But in the end, they're still nothing more than video games. Hiro's not so poor, yet, that he would go and write video games for this company. It's owned by the Nipponese, which is no big deal. But it's also managed by the Nipponese, which means that all the programmers have to wear white shirts and show up at eight in the morning and sit in cubicles35 and go to meetings.
When Hiro learned how to do this, way back fifteen years ago, a hacker could sit down and write an entire piece of software by himself. Now, that's no longer possible. Software comes out of factories, and hackers36 are, to a greater or lesser37 extent, assembly-line workers. Worse yet, they may become managers who never get to write any code themselves. The prospect38 of becoming an assembly-line worker gives Hiro some incentive39 to go out and find some really good intel tonight.
He tries to get himself psyched up, tries to break out of the lethargy of the long-term underemployed. This intel thing can be great once you get yourself jacked into the grid40. And with his connections it shouldn't be any problem. He just has to get serious about it. Get serious. Get serious. But it's so hard to get serious about anything.
He owes the Mafia the cost of a new car. That's a good reason to get serious. He cuts straight across the Street and under the monorail line, headed for a large, low-slung black building. It is extraordinarily41 somber42 for the Street, like a parcel that someone forgot to develop. It's a squat43 black pyramid with the top cut off. It has one single door -- since this is all imaginary, there are no regulations dictating44 the number of emergency exits. There are no guards, no signs, nothing to bar people from going in, yet thousands of avatars mill around, peering inside, looking for a glimpse of something. These people can't pass through the door because they haven't been invited.
Above the door is a matte black hemisphere about a meter in diameter, set into the front wall of the building. It is the closest thing the place has to decoration. Underneath45 it, in letters carved into the wall's black substance, is the name of the place: THE BLACK SUN.
So it's not an architectural masterpiece. When Da5id and Hiro and the other hackers wrote The Black Sun, they didn't have enough money to hire architects or designers, so they just went in for simple geometric shapes. The avatars milling around the entrance don't seem to care.
If these avatars were real people in a real street, Hiro wouldn't be able to reach the entrance. It's way too crowded. But the computer system that operates the Street has better things to do than to monitor every single one of the millions of people there, trying to prevent them from running into each other. It doesn't bother trying to solve this incredibly difficult problem. On the Street, avatars just walk right through each other.
So when Hiro cuts through the crowd, headed for the entrance, he really is cutting through the crowd. When things get this jammed together, the computer simplifies things by drawing all of the avatars ghostly and translucent46 so you can see where you're going. Hiro appears solid to himself, but everyone else looks like a ghost. He walks through the crowd as if it's a fogbank, clearly seeing The Black Sun in front of him.
He steps over the property line, and he's in the doorway47. And in that instant he becomes solid and visible to all the avatars milling outside. As one, they all begin screaming. Not that they have any idea who the hell he is -- Hiro is just a starving CIC stringer who lives in a U-Stor-It by the airport. But in the entire world there are only a couple of thousand people who can step over the line into The Black Sun.
He turns and looks back at ten thousand shrieking48 groupies. Now that he's all by himself in the entryway, no longer immersed in a flood of avatars, he can see all of the people in the front row of the crowd with perfect clarity. They are all done up in their wildest and fanciest avatars, hoping that Da5id -- The Black Sun's owner and hacker-in-chief -- will invite them inside. They flick49 and merge10 together into a hysterical50 wall. Stunningly51 beautiful women, computer-airbrushed and retouched at seventy-two frames a second, like Playboy pinups turned three-dimensional -- these are would-be actresses hoping to be discovered. Wild-looking abstracts, tornadoes52 of gyrating light-hackers who are hoping that Da5id will notice their talent, invite them inside, give them a job. A liberal sprinkling of black-and-white people -- persons who are accessing the Metaverse through cheap public terminals, and who are rendered in jerky, grainy black and white. A lot of these are run-of-the-mill psycho fans, devoted53 to the fantasy of stabbing some particular actress to death; they can't even get close in Reality, so they goggle54 into the Metaverse to stalk their prey55. There are would-be rock stars done up in laser light, as though they just stepped off the concert stage, and the avatars of Nipponese businessmen, exquisitely56 rendered by their fancy equipment, but utterly57 reserved and boring in their suits.
There's one black-and-white who stands out because he's taller than the rest. The Street protocol58 states that your avatar can't be any taller than you are. This is to prevent people from walking around a mile high. Besides, if this guy's using a pay terminal -- which he must be, to judge from the image quality -- it can't jazz up his avatar. It just shows him the way he is, except not as well. Talking to a black-and-white on the Street is like talking to a person who has his face stuck in a xerox59 machine, repeatedly pounding the copy button, while you stand by the output tray pulling the sheets out one at a time and looking at them.
He has long hair, parted in the middle like a curtain to reveal a tattoo60 on his forehead. Given the shifty resolution, there's no way to see the tattoo clearly, but it appears to consist of words. He has a wispy61 Fu Manchu mustache.
Hiro realizes that the guy has noticed him and is staring back, looking him up and down, paying particular attention to the swords. A grin spreads across the black-and-white guy's face. It is a satisfied grin. A grin of recognition. The grin of a man who knows something Hiro doesn't. The black-and-white guy has been standing62 with his arms folded across his chest, like a man who is bored, who's been waiting for something, and now his arms drop to his sides, swing loosely at the shoulders, like an athlete limbering up. He steps as close as he can and leans forward; he's so tall that the only thing behind him is empty black sky, torn with the glowing vapor63 trails of passing animercials.
"Hey, Hiro," the black-and-white guy says, "you want to try some Snow Crash?"
A lot of people hang around in front of The Black Sun saying weird64 things. You ignore them. But this gets Hiro's attention.
Oddity the first: The guy knows Hiro's name. But people have ways of getting that information. It's probably nothing.
The second: This sounds like an offer from a drug pusher. Which would be normal in front of a Reality bar. But this is the Metaverse. And you can't sell drugs in the Metaverse, because you can't get high by looking at something.
The third: The name of the drug. Hiro's never heard of a drug called Snow Crash before. That's not unusual -- a thousand new drugs get invented each year, and each of them sells under half a dozen brand names.
But a "snow crash" is computer lingo65. It means a system crash -- a bug66 -- at such a fundamental level that it frags the part of the computer that controls the electron beam in the monitor, making it spray wildly across the screen, turning the perfect gridwork of pixels into a gyrating blizzard67. Hiro has seen it happen a million times. But it's a very peculiar68 name for a drug.
The thing that really gets Hiro's attention is his confidence. He has an utterly calm, stolid69 presence. It's like talking to an asteroid70. Which would be okay if he were doing something that made the tiniest little bit of sense. Hiro's trying to read some clues in the guy's face, but the closer he looks, the more his shifty black-and-white avatar seems to break up into jittering71, hard-edged pixels. It's like putting his nose against the glass of a busted72 TV. It makes his teeth hurt.
"Excuse me," Hiro says. "What did you say?"
"You want to try some Snow Crash?"
He has a crisp accent that Hiro can't quite place. His audio is as bad as his video. Hiro can hear cars going past the guy in the background. He must be goggled73 in from a public terminal alongside some freeway. "I don't get this," Hiro says. "What is Snow Crash?"
"It's a drug, asshole," the guy says. "What do you think?"
"Wait a minute. This is a new one on me," Hiro says. "You honestly think I'm going to give you some money here? And then what do I do, wait for you to mail me the stuff?"
"I said try, not buy," the guy says. "You don't have to give me any money. Free sample. And you don't have to wait for no mail. You can have it now." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hypercard.
It looks like a business card. The hypercard is an avatar of sorts. It is used in the Metaverse to represent a chunk74 of data. It might be text, audio, video, a still image, or any other information that can be represented digitally.
Think of a baseball card, which carries a picture, some text, and some numerical data. A baseball hypercard could contain a highlight film of the player in action, shown in perfect high-def television; a complete biography, read by the player himself, in stereo digital sound; and a complete statistical75 database along with specialized76 software to help you look up the numbers you want.
A hypercard can carry a virtually infinite amount of information. For all Hiro knows, this hypercard might contain all the books in the Library of Congress, or every episode of Hawaii Five-O that was ever filmed, or the complete recordings77 of Jimi Hendrix, or the 1950 Census78.
Or -- more likely -- a wide variety of nasty computer viruses. If Hiro reaches out and takes the hypercard, then the data it represents will be transferred from this guy's system into Hiro's computer. Hiro, naturally, wouldn't touch it under any circumstances, any more than you would take a free syringe from a stranger in Times Square and jab it into your neck.
And it doesn't make sense anyway. "That's a hypercard. I thought you said Snow Crash was a drug," Hiro says, now totally nonplussed79.
"It is," the guy says. "Try it."
"Does it fuck up your brain?" Hiro says. "Or your computer?"
"Both. Neither. What's the difference?"
Hiro finally realizes that he has just wasted sixty seconds of his life having a meaningless conversation with a paranoid schizophrenic. He turns around and goes into The Black Sun.
收听单词发音 |
1
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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specifications
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| n.规格；载明；详述；（产品等的）说明书；说明书( specification的名词复数 )；详细的计划书；载明；详述 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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gorilla
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| n.大猩猩，暴徒，打手 | |
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hacker
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| n.能盗用或偷改电脑中信息的人，电脑黑客 | |
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garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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metaphor
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| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
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merge
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| v.(使)结合，(使)合并，(使)合为一体 | |
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circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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subdivided
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| 再分，细分( subdivide的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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obsessive
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| adj. 着迷的, 强迫性的, 分神的 | |
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analogous
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| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
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hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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repertoire
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| n.(准备好演出的)节目，保留剧目；(计算机的)指令表，指令系统， <美>(某个人的)全部技能；清单，指令表 | |
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pouty
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| adj.撅嘴的，容易生气的 | |
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siblings
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| n.兄弟，姐妹( sibling的名词复数 ) | |
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ethnic
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| adj.人种的，种族的，异教徒的 | |
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swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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trajectory
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| n.弹道，轨道 | |
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zooms
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| n.嗡嗡声( zoom的名词复数 )；隆隆声；（车辆等）疾驰的声音；变焦 | |
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plows
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| n.犁( plow的名词复数 )；犁型铲雪机v.耕( plow的第三人称单数 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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disintegrates
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| n.（使）破裂[分裂，粉碎]，（使）崩溃( disintegrate的名词复数 )v.（使）破裂[分裂，粉碎]，（使）崩溃( disintegrate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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skids
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| n.滑向一侧( skid的名词复数 )；滑道；滚道；制轮器v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的第三人称单数 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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envelop
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| vt.包，封，遮盖；包围 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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blazoned
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| v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布；夸示；装饰 | |
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bucks
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| n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 )；钱；（英国十九世纪初的）花花公子；（用于某些表达方式）责任v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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yen
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| n. 日元；热望 | |
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interactive
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| adj.相互作用的，互相影响的，（电脑）交互的 | |
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cubicles
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| n.小卧室，斗室( cubicle的名词复数 ) | |
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hackers
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| n.计算机迷( hacker的名词复数 )；私自存取或篡改电脑资料者，电脑“黑客” | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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incentive
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| n.刺激；动力；鼓励；诱因；动机 | |
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grid
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| n.高压输电线路网；地图坐标方格；格栅 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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42
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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43
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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44
dictating
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的现在分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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45
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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46
translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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47
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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48
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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49
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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50
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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51
stunningly
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| ad.令人目瞪口呆地；惊人地 | |
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52
tornadoes
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| n.龙卷风，旋风( tornado的名词复数 ) | |
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53
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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54
goggle
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| n.瞪眼，转动眼珠，护目镜；v.瞪眼看，转眼珠 | |
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55
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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56
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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57
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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protocol
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| n.议定书，草约，会谈记录，外交礼节 | |
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xerox
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| n./v.施乐复印机，静电复印 | |
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60
tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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wispy
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| adj.模糊的；纤细的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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lingo
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| n.语言不知所云，外国话，隐语 | |
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66
bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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asteroid
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| n.小行星；海盘车(动物) | |
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jittering
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| v.紧张不安，战战兢兢( jitter的现在分词 ) | |
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busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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goggled
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| adj.戴护目镜的v.睁大眼睛瞪视， （惊讶的）转动眼珠( goggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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statistical
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| adj.统计的，统计学的 | |
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specialized
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| adj.专门的，专业化的 | |
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recordings
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| n.记录( recording的名词复数 )；录音；录像；唱片 | |
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census
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| n.(官方的)人口调查，人口普查 | |
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nonplussed
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| adj.不知所措的，陷于窘境的v.使迷惑( nonplus的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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