By William Gibson
Rydell is on his as far back as near-future San Francisco. A stint as a safety guy in an all-night la comfort shop has confident him his profession goes nowhere, yet his good friend Laney, phoning from Tokyo, says there's extra attention-grabbing paintings for him in Northern California. and there's, even though it will ultimately contain his former female friend, a Taoist murderer, the secrets and techniques Laney has been hacking out of the depths of DatAmerica, the CEO of the PR enterprise that secretly runs the realm and the apocalyptic technological transformation of, good, every little thing. William Gibson's new novel, set within the soon-to-be-fact global of "Virtual Light" and "Idoru", completes a beautiful, brilliantly imagined trilogy concerning the post-Net international.
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Extra resources for All Tomorrow's Parties
And the next day in Pecos," he said. " He smiled. "After that, I have no idea," he said. " She drove on, silent as the car. "So you are running away from something," she said. " He shook his head again. "No, the exact opposite, really. " "I see," she said. " She paused. " "My father was in, too. " He nodded. " He saw her thinking about his answer. He saw her tension come back. She started stepping harder on the gas, maybe without realizing it, maybe like an involuntary reflex. He had the feeling her interest in him was quickening, like the car.
Go ahead," he said. " "Reacher," he said. "Is that your first name? " "People just call me Reacher," he said. She paused again. " He nodded. "Have you killed people, Reacher? " He nodded again. " she said. "I guess so," he said. " She went quiet again. Like she was struggling with a decision. "There's a museum in Pecos," she said. "A real Wild West museum. It's partly in an old saloon, and partly in the old hotel next door. Out back is the site of Clay Allison's grave. " Reacher shook his head.
Reacher said nothing. Just waited. " she asked. "They don't do anything for you. " "So get a new lawyer," he said. "I've had four," she said. "Four, in a month. They're all the same. And they're all too expensive. " "It's my mother-in-law's. " She went quiet again. Her eyes clouded. "My husband gave it to me," she said. He looked at her. " "No, he can't help me," she said. " "Never needed one. " "They don't really exist," she said. "Not like you see in the movies. They just want to sit in their offices and work with the phone.
All Tomorrow's Parties by William Gibson