Neuromancer

4241 Words9 Pages

Neuromancer

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned

to a dead channel.

"It's not like I'm using," Case heard someone say, as he

shouldered his way through the crowd around the door of the

Chat. "It's like my body's developed this massive drug defi-

ciency." It was a Sprawl voice and a Sprawl joke. The Chatsubo

was a bar for professional expatriates; you could drink there

for a week and never hear two words in Japanese.

Ratz was tending bar, his prosthetic arm jerking monoto-

nously as he filled a tray of glasses with draft Kirin. He saw

Case and smiled, his teeth a web work of East European steel

and brown decay. Case found a place at the bar, between the

unlikely tan on one of Lonny Zone's whores and the crisp naval

uniform of a tall African whose cheekbones were ridged with

precise rows of tribal scars. "Wage was in here early, with two

Joe boys," Ratz said, shoving a draft across the bar with his

good hand. "Maybe some business with you, Case?"

Case shrugged. The girl to his right giggled and nudged

him.

The bartender's smile widened. His ugliness was the stuff

of legend. In an age of affordable beauty, there was something

heraldic about his lack of it. The antique arm whined as he

reached for another mug. It was a Russian military prosthesis,

a seven-function force-feedback manipulator, cased in grubby

pink plastic. "You are too much the artiste, Herr Case." Ratz

grunted; the sound served him as laughter. He scratched his

overhang of white-shirted belly with the pink claw. "You are

the artiste of the slightly funny deal."

"Sure," Case said, and sipped his beer. "Somebody's gotta

be funny around here. Sure the fuck isn't you."

The whore's giggle went up an octave.

"Isn't you either, sister. So you vanish, okay? Zone, he's

a close personal friend of mine."

She looked Case in the eye and made the softest possible

spitting sound, her lips barely moving. But she left.

"Jesus," Case said, "what kind a creep joint you running here?

Man can't have a drink."

"Ha," Ratz said, swabbing the scarred wood with a rag,

"Zone shows a percentage. You I let work here for entertain-

ment value."

As Case was picking up his beer, one of those strange

instants of silence descended, as though a hundred unrelated

conversations had simultaneously arrived at the same pause.

Then the whore's giggle rang out, tinged with a certain hysteria.

Ratz grunted. "An angel passed."

"The Chinese," bellowed a drunken Australian, "Chinese

bloody invented nerve-splicing. Give me the mainland for a

nerve job any day. Fix you right, mate.

Open Document