Rain woke him, a slow drizzle, his feet tangled in coils of discarded fiberoptics. The arcade's sea of sound washed over him, receded, returned. Rolling over, he sat up and held his head.
William GibsonWe have no future because our present is too volatile. We have only risk management. The spinning of the given moment's scenarios. Pattern recognition.
William GibsonMots clés inspirational life-lessons futurism
When you want to know how things really work, study them when they're coming apart.
William GibsonMots clés psychology design psychoanalysis engineering
Addictions [...] started out like magical pets, pocket monsters. They did extraordinary tricks, showed you things you hadn't seen, were fun. But came, through some gradual dire alchemy, to make decisions for you. Eventually, they were making your most crucial life-decisions. And they were [...] less intelligent than goldfish.
William GibsonSecrets...are the very root of cool.
William GibsonTake me home," she said, and the words hit me like a whip. I think I shook my head. "Take me home." There were levels of pain there, and subtlety, and an amazing cruelty. And I knew then that I'd never been hated, ever, as deeply or thoroughly as this wasted little girl hated me now, hated me for the way I'd looked, then looked away, beside Rubin's all-beer refrigerator.
So--if that's the word--I did one of those things you do and never find out why, even though something in you knows you could never have done anything else.
I took her home.
Mots clés the-winter-market
Whenever the media do try to pick it up, it slides like a lone noodle from their chopsticks.
William GibsonAnd don't forget to water the fuckin' goldfish.
William GibsonHis nostrils were permanently flared, as though he sniffed invisible winds of art and commerce.
William GibsonIf you’re fifteen or so, today, I suspect that you inhabit a sort of endless digital Now, a state of atemporality enabled by our increasingly efficient communal prosthetic memory. I also suspect that you don’t know it, because, as anthropologists tell us, one cannot know one’s own culture.
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