NEAL STEPHENSON

247

who came up here with the High Priest, is holding a small thing in one hand that is unusually warm.

She nails him with her penlight, spotlighting his upper body in a narrow yellow beam. Most of him is dirty and dun colored and reflects little light. But there is a brilliant glossy red thing, a shaft of ruby.

It’s a hypodermic needle. It’s full of red fluid. Under infrared, it shows up warm. It’s fresh blood.

And she doesn’t exactly get it-why these guys would be walking around with a syringe full of fresh blood. But she’s seen enough.

The Liquid Knuckles shoots out of the can in a long narrow neon-green stream, and when it nails the needle man in the face, he jerks his head back like he’s just been axed across the bridge of the nose and falls back without making a sound. Then she gives the High Priest a shot of it for good measure. The woman just stands there, totally, like, appalled.

___________ Y.T. pumps herself up out of the canyon so fast that when she flies out into traffic, she’s going about as fast as it is. As soon as she gets a solid poon on a nocturnal lettuce tanker, she gets on the phone to Mom.

“Mom, listen. No, Mom, never mind the roaring noise. Yes, I am riding my skateboard in traffic. But listen to me for a second, Mom-“

She has to hang up on the old bitch. It’s impossible to talk to her. Then she tries to make a voice linkup with Hiro. That takes a couple of minutes to go through.

“Hello! Hello! Hello!” she’s shouting. Then she hears the honk of a car horn. Coming out of the telephone.

“Hello?”

“It’s Y.T.”

“How are you doing?” This guy always seems a little too laid back in his personal dealings. She doesn’t really want to talk about how she’s doing. She hears another honking horn in the background, behind Hiro’s voice.

“Where the hell are you, Hiro?”