Shut up. For the rest of this conversation, you don't say anything. When I tell you what you did wrong, you don't say you're sorry, because I already know you're sorry. And when you drive outta here alive, you don't thank me for being alive. And you don't even say goodbye to me.
Neal StephensonHiro is a talented drifter. This is the kind of lifestyle that sounded romantic to him as recently as five years ago. But in the bleak light of full adulthood, which is to one's early twenties as Sunday morning is to Saturday night, he can clearly see what it really amounts to: He's broke and unemployed.
Neal StephensonFollow the loglo outward, to where the growth is enfolded into the valleys and the canyons, and you find the land of the refugees. They have fled from the true America, the America of atomic bombs, scalpings, hip-hop, chaos theory, cement overshoes, snake handlers, spree killers, space walks, buffalo jumps, drive-bys, cruise missiles; Sherman's March, gridlock, motorcycle gangs, and bungee jumping. They have parallel-parked their bimbo boxes in identical computer-designed Burbclave street patterns and secreted themselves in symmetrical sheetrock shitholes with vinyl floors and ill-fitting woodwork and no sidewalks, vast house farms out in the loglo wilderness, a culture medium for a medium culture.
Neal StephensonThere is a certain kind of small town that grows like a boil on the ass of every Army base in the world.
Neal Stephenson...in the background she can hear the shopping carts performing their clashy, anal copulations.
Neal StephensonThis Snow Crash thing--is it a virus, a drug, or a religion?”
Juanita shrugs. “What's the difference?
Hiro feels even at this moment that something has been torn open in the world and that he is dangling above the gap, staring into a place where he does not want to be.
Neal StephensonOn a sub, you know, there's no place for things to drain to. The survivors claimed that the blood was knee-deep all through the submarine.
Neal StephensonSorry, baby. Let's get out of here,” he says, speaking with the intense, strained tones of a man with an erection.
Neal Stephensonfor now, none of the lights are on and that's all there is, black steel and slate sky.
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