Blunt Force Trauma1 play for a solid hour, segueing from one song into the next with no chink or crevice2 in the wall of noise. All a part of the aesthetic3. When the music stops, their set is over. For the first time, Hiro can hear the exaltation of the crowd. It's a blast of high-pitched noise that he feels in his head, ringing his ears.
But there's a low thudding sound, too, like someone pummeling a bass4 drum, and for a minute he thinks maybe it's a truck rolling by on the overpass5 above them. But it's too steady for that, it doesn't die away.
It's behind him. Other people have noticed it, turned to look toward the sound, are scurrying6 out of the way. Hiro sidesteps, turning to see what it is.
Big and black, to begin with. It does not seem as though such a large man could perch7 on a motorcycle, even a big chortling Harley like this one.
Correction. It's a Harley with some kind of a sidecar added a sleek8 black projectile9 hanging off to the right, supported on its own wheel. But no one is sitting in the sidecar.
It does not seem as though a man could be this bulky without being fat. But he's not fat at all, he's wearing tight stretchy clothes -- like leather, but not quite -- that show bones and muscles, but nothing else.
He is riding the Harley so slowly that he would certainly fall over if not for the sidecar. Occasionally he gooses it forward with a flick10 of the fingers on his clutch hand.
Maybe one reason he looks so big -- other than the fact that he really *is* big -- is the fact that he appears totally neckless. His head starts out wide and just keeps getting wider until it merges11 with his shoulders. At first Hiro thinks it must be some kind of avant-garde helmet. But when the man rolls past him, this great shroud12 moves and flutters and Hiro sees that it is just his hair, a thick mane of black hair tossed back over his shoulders, trailing down his back almost to his waist.
As he is marveling at this, he realizes that the man has turned his head to look back at him. Or to look in his general direction, anyway. It's impossible to tell exactly what he's looking at because of his goggles13, a smooth convex shell over the eyes, interrupted by a narrow horizontal slit14.
He is looking at Hiro. He gives him the same fuck-you smile that he sported earlier tonight, when Hiro was standing15 in the entryway to The Black Sun, and he was in a public terminal somewhere.
This is the guy. Raven16. This is the guy that Juanita is looking for. The guy Lagos told him not to mess with. And Hiro has seen him before, outside the entrance to The Black Sun. This is the guy who gave the Snow Crash card to Da5id.
The tattoo17 on his forehead consists of three words, written in block letters:
POOR IMPULSE CONTROL.
Hiro startles and actually jumps into the air as Vitaly Chernobyl and the Meltdowns launch into their opening number, "Radiation Burn." It is a tornado18 of mostly high-pitched noise and distortion, like being flung bodily through a wall of fishhooks.
These days, most states are franchulates or Burbclaves, much too small to have anything like a jail, or even a judicial19 system. So when someone does something bad, they try to find quick and dirty punishments, like flogging, confiscation20 of property, public humiliation21, or, in the case of people who have a high potential of going on to hurt others, a warning tattoo on a prominent body part POOR IMPULSE CONTROL. Apparently22, this guy went to such a place and lost his temper real bad.
For an instant, a glowing red gridwork is plotted against the side of Raven's face. It rapidly shrinks, all sides converging23 inward toward the right pupil. Raven shakes his head, turns to look for the source of the laser light, but it's already gone. Lagos has already got his retinal scan.
That's why Lagos is here. He's not interested in Hiro or Vitaly Chernobyl. He's interested in Raven. And somehow, Lagos knew that he was going to be here. And Lagos is somewhere nearby, right now, videotaping the guy, probing the contents of his pockets with radar24, recording25 his pulse and respiration26.
Hiro picks up his personal phone. "Y.T.," he says, and it dials Y.T.'s number. It rings for a long time before she picks it up. It's almost impossible to hear anything over the sound of the concert.
"What the fuck do you want?"
"Y.T., I'm sorry about this. But something's going on. Something big time. I'm keeping one eye on a big biker named Raven."
"The problem with you hackers28 is you never stop working."
"That's what a hacker27 is," Hiro says.
"I'll keep an eye on this Raven guy, too," she says, "sometime when I am working."
Then she hangs up.
1 trauma | |
n.外伤,精神创伤 | |
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2 crevice | |
n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝;缺口 | |
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3 aesthetic | |
adj.美学的,审美的,有美感 | |
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4 bass | |
n.男低音(歌手);低音乐器;低音大提琴 | |
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5 overpass | |
n.天桥,立交桥 | |
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6 scurrying | |
v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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7 perch | |
n.栖木,高位,杆;v.栖息,就位,位于 | |
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8 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
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9 projectile | |
n.投射物,发射体;adj.向前开进的;推进的;抛掷的 | |
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10 flick | |
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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11 merges | |
(使)混合( merge的第三人称单数 ); 相融; 融入; 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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12 shroud | |
n.裹尸布,寿衣;罩,幕;vt.覆盖,隐藏 | |
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13 goggles | |
n.护目镜 | |
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14 slit | |
n.狭长的切口;裂缝;vt.切开,撕裂 | |
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15 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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16 raven | |
n.渡鸟,乌鸦;adj.乌亮的 | |
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17 tattoo | |
n.纹身,(皮肤上的)刺花纹;vt.刺花纹于 | |
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18 tornado | |
n.飓风,龙卷风 | |
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19 judicial | |
adj.司法的,法庭的,审判的,明断的,公正的 | |
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20 confiscation | |
n. 没收, 充公, 征收 | |
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21 humiliation | |
n.羞辱 | |
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22 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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23 converging | |
adj.收敛[缩]的,会聚的,趋同的v.(线条、运动的物体等)会于一点( converge的现在分词 );(趋于)相似或相同;人或车辆汇集;聚集 | |
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24 radar | |
n.雷达,无线电探测器 | |
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25 recording | |
n.录音,记录 | |
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26 respiration | |
n.呼吸作用;一次呼吸;植物光合作用 | |
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27 hacker | |
n.能盗用或偷改电脑中信息的人,电脑黑客 | |
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28 hackers | |
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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