At half an hour on the dot, she hears the back door being unlocked. The lights come on. Her Knight1 Visions save her from wracking eyeball pains. The manager thunks down a couple of steps, glares at her, glares at her for rather a long time. The manager, clearly, is tempted2. That momentary3 glimpse of flesh has been ricocheting around in his brain for half an hour. He is wracking his mind with vast cosmological dilemmas4. Y.T., hopes that he does not try anything, because the dentata's effects can be unpredictable.
"Make up your fucking mind," she says.
It works. This fresh burst of culture shock rattles5 the jeek out of his ethical6 conundrum7. He gives Y.T. a disapproving8 glower9 -- she, after all, forced him to be attracted to her, forced him to get horny, made his head swim -- she didn't have to get arrested, did she? -- and so on top of everything else he's angry with her. As if he has a right to be.
This is the gender10 that invented the polio vaccine11?
He turns, goes back up the steps, kills the light, locks the door.
She notes the time, sets her alarm watch for five minutes from now -- the only North American who actually knows how to set the alarm on her digital wristwatch -- pulls her shiv kit12 from one of the narrow pockets on her sleeve. She also hauls out a light-stick and snaps it so she can see 'sup. She finds one piece of narrow, flat spring steel, slides it up into the manacle's innards, depresses the spring-loaded pawl. The cuff13, formerly14 a one-way ratchet that could only get tighter, springs loose from the cold-water pipe.
She could take it off her wrist, but she has decided15 she likes the look of it. She cuffs16 the loose manacle onto her wrist, right next to the other one, forming a double bracelet17. The kind of thing her mom used to do, back when she was a punk.
The steel door is locked, but Buy 'n' Fly safety regs mandate18 an emergency exit from the basement in case of fire. Here, it's a basement window with mondo bars and a big red multilingual fire alarm bolted onto it. The red looks black in the green glow of the lightstick. She reads the instructions that are in English, runs through it once or twice in her mind, then waits for the alarm to go off. She whiles away the time by reading the instructions in all the other languages, wondering which is which. It all looks like Taxilinga to Y.T.
The window is almost too grungy to see through, but she sees something black walking past it. Hiro.
About ten seconds later, her wristwatch goes off. She punches the emergency exit. The bell rings. The bars are trickier19 than she thought -- good thing it's not a real fire -- but eventually she gets them open. She throws her plank20 outside onto the parking lot, drags her body through just as she bears the rear door being unlocked. By the time the three-ringer has found that all-important light switch, she is banking21 a sharp turn into the front lot -- which has turned into a jeek festival.
Every jeek in Southern Cal is here, it seems, driving their giant, wrecked22 taxicabs with alien livestock23 in the back seat, reeking24 of incense25 and sloshing neon-hued Airwicks! They have set up a giant eight-tubed hookah on the trunk of one of the cabs and are slurping26 up great mountain-man lungfuls of choking smoke.
And they're all staring at Hiro Protagonist27, who is just staring back at them. Everyone in the parking lot looks completely astounded28.
He must have made his approach from the rear -- didn't realize that the front lot was full of jeeks. Whatever he was planning isn't going to work. The plan is screwed.
The manager comes running around from the back of the Buy 'n' Fly, sounding a bloodcurdling Taxilinga tocsin. He's got missile lock on Y.T.'s ass29. But the jeeks around the hookah don't care about Y.T. They've got missile lock on Hiro. They carefully hang the ornate silver nozzles on a rack built into the neck of the mega-bong. Then they start moving toward him, reaching into the folds of their robes, the inner pockets of their windbreakers.
Y.T. is distracted by a sharp hissing30 noise. Her eyes glance back at Hiro, and she sees that he has withdrawn31 a three-foot, curved sword from a scabbard, which she did not notice before. He has dropped into a squat32. The blade of the sword glitters painfully under the killer33 security lights of the Buy 'n' Fly. How sweet!
It would be an understatement to say that the hookah boys are taken aback. But they are not scared so much as they are confused. Almost undoubtedly34, most of them have guns. So why is this guy trying to bother them with a sword?
She remembers that one of the multiple professions on Hiro's business card is Greatest sword fighter in the world. Can he really take out a whole clan35 of armed jeeks?
The manager's hand clenches36 her upper arm -- like this is really going to stop her. She reaches across her body with the other hand and lets him have it with a brief squirt of Liquid Knuckles37. He makes a muffled38, distant grunt39, his head snaps back, he lets go of her arm and staggers back wildly until he sprawls40 against another taxi, jamming the heels of both hands into his eye sockets41. Wait a Sec. There's nobody in that particular taxi. But she can see a two-foot-long macrame keychain dangling42 from the ignition.
She tosses her plank through the window of the taxi, dives in after it (she's small, opening the door is optional), climbs in behind the driver's seat, sinking into a deep nest of wooden beads43 and air fresheners, grinds the motor, and takes off. Backward. Headed for the rear parking lot. The car was pointed44 outward, in taxicab style, ready for a quick getaway, which would be fine if she were by herself -- but there is Hiro to think of. The radio is screaming, alive with hollered bursts of Taxilinga. She backs all the way around behind the Buy 'n' Fly. The back lot is strangely quiet and empty.
She shifts into drive and blasts back the way she came. The jeeks haven't quite had time to react, were expecting her to come out the other way. She screams it to a halt right next to Hiro, who has already had the presence of mind to put his sword back in its scabbard. He dives in the passenger-side window. Then she stops paying attention to him. She's got other stuff to look at, such as whether she's going to get broadsided as she pulls out onto the road.
She doesn't get broadsided, though a car has to squeal45 around her. She guns it out onto the highway. It responds as only an ancient taxicab will.
The only problem being that half a dozen other ancient taxicabs are now following them.
Something is pressing against Y.T.'s left thigh46. She looks down. It is a remarkably47 huge revolver in a net bag hanging on the door panel. She has to find someplace to pull into. If she could find a Nova Sicilia franchulate, that would do it -- the Mafia owes her one. Or a New South Africa, which she hates. But the New South Africans hate jeeks even more.
Scratch that, Hiro is black, or at least part black. Can't take him into New South Africa. And because Y.T. is a Cauc, they can't go to Metazania.
"Mr. Lee's Greater Hong Kong," Hiro says. "Half mile ahead on the right"
"Nice thinkin' -- but they won't let you in with your swords, will they?"
"Yes," he says, "because I'm a Citizen."
Then she sees it. The sign stands out because it is a rare one. Don't see many of these. It is a green-and-blue sign, soothing48 and calm in a glare-torn franchise49 ghetto50. It says:
MR. LEE'S GREATER HONG KONG
Explosive noise from in back. Her head smacks51 into the whiplash arrestor. Another taxi rear-ended them.
And she screams into the parking lot of Mr. Lee's doing seventy-five. The security system doesn't even have time to rez her visa and drop the STD, so it's Severe Tire Damage all the way, those bald radials are left behind on the spikes52. Sparking along on four naked rims53, she shrieks54 to a stop on the lawngrid, which doubles as carbon dioxide-eating turf and impervious55 parking lot.
She and Hiro climb out of the car.
Hiro is grinning wildly, pinioned56 in the crossfire57 of a dozen red laser beams scanning him from every direction at once. The Hong Kong robot security system is checking him out. Her, too; she looks down to see the lasers scribbling58 across her chest.
"Welcome to Mr. Lee's Greater Hong Kong, Mr.Protagonist," the security system says through a PA. speaker. "And welcome to your guest, Ms. Y.T."
The other taxis have stopped in formation along the curb59.
Several of them overshot the Hong Kong franchise and had to back up a block or so. A barrage60 of doors thunking shut. Some of them don't bother, just leave the engines running and the doors wide open. Three jeeks linger on the sidewalk, eyeing the tire shreds61 impaled62 on spikes: long streaks63 of neoprene sprouting64 steel and fiberglass hairs, like ruined toupees65. One of them has a revolver in his hand, pointed straight down at the sidewalk.
Four more jeeks run up to join them. Y.T. counts two more revolvers and a pump shotgun. Any more of these guys and they'll be able to form a government.
They step carefully over the spikes and onto the lush Hong Kong lawngrid. As they do, the lasers appear once more. The jeeks turn all red and grainy for a second.
Then something different happens. Lights come on. The security system wants better illumination on these people.
Hong Kong franchulates are famous for their lawngrids -- who ever heard of a lawn you could park on? -- and for their antennas66. They all look like NASA research facilities with their antennas. Some of them are satellite uplinks, pointed at the sky. But some of them, tiny little antennas, are pointed at the ground, at the lawngrid.
Y.T. does not really get this, but these small antennas are millimeter-wave radar67 transceivers. Like any other radar, they are good at picking up metallic68 objects. Unlike the radar in an air traffic control center, they can rez fine details. The rez of a system is only as fine as its wavelength69; since the wavelength of this radar is about a millimeter, it can see the fillings in your teeth, the grommets in your Converse70 high-tops, the rivets71 in your Levi's. It can calculate the value of your pocket change.
Seeing guns is not a problem. This thing can even tell if the guns are loaded, and with what sort of ammunition72. That is an important function, because guns are illegal in Mr. Lee's Greater Hong Kong.
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1
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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dilemmas
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| n.左右为难( dilemma的名词复数 )；窘境，困境 | |
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rattles
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| （使）发出格格的响声， （使）作嘎嘎声( rattle的第三人称单数 )； 喋喋不休地说话； 迅速而嘎嘎作响地移动，堕下或走动； 使紧张，使恐惧 | |
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ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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conundrum
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| n.谜语；难题 | |
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disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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glower
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| v.怒目而视 | |
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gender
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| n.（生理上的）性，（名词、代词等的）性 | |
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vaccine
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| n.牛痘苗，疫苗；adj.牛痘的，疫苗的 | |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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mandate
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| n.托管地；命令，指示 | |
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trickier
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| adj.狡猾的( tricky的比较级 )；（形势、工作等）复杂的；机警的；微妙的 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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livestock
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| n.家畜，牲畜 | |
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reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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slurping
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| v.啜食( slurp的现在分词 ) | |
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protagonist
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| n.(思想观念的)倡导者；主角，主人公 | |
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astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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clan
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| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
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clenches
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的第三人称单数 ) | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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38
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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40
sprawls
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| n.（城市）杂乱无序拓展的地区( sprawl的名词复数 )；随意扩展；蔓延物v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的第三人称单数 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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41
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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42
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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43
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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squeal
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| v.发出长而尖的声音；n.长而尖的声音 | |
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46
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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47
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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48
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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franchise
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| n.特许，特权，专营权，特许权 | |
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ghetto
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| n.少数民族聚居区，贫民区 | |
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51
smacks
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| 掌掴（声）( smack的名词复数 )； 海洛因； （打的）一拳； 打巴掌 | |
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52
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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53
rims
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| n.（圆形物体的）边( rim的名词复数 )；缘；轮辋；轮圈 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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pinioned
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crossfire
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| n.被卷进争端 | |
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58
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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barrage
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| n.火力网，弹幕 | |
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61
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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impaled
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| 钉在尖桩上( impale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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sprouting
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| v.发芽( sprout的现在分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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toupees
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| n.男用假发，遮秃假发( toupee的名词复数 ) | |
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antennas
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| [生] 触角，触须（antenna的复数形式） | |
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radar
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| n.雷达，无线电探测器 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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wavelength
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| n.波长 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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rivets
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| 铆钉( rivet的名词复数 ) | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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