SNOW CRASH

“Does Y.T. have a job?”

“Yes. She works as Kourier She works for RadiKS.”

“How much money does Y.T. make as a Kourier?” “I don’t know. A few bucks here and there.”

“How often does she purchase new equipment for her job?”

“I’m not aware. I don’t really keep track of that.”

“Has Y.T. done anything unusual lately?”

“That depends on what you mean.” She knows she’s equivocating. “She’s always doing things that some people might label as unusual.” That doesn’t sound too good, sounds like an endorsement of nonconformity. “I guess what I’m saying is, she’s always doing unusual things.”

“Has Y.T. broken anything in the house recently?”

“Yes.” She gives up. The Feds already know this, her house is bugged and tapped, it’s a wonder it doesn’t short out the electrical grid, all the extra stuff wired into it. “She broke my computer.”

“Did she give an explanation for why she broke the computer?”

“Yes. Sort of. I mean, if nonsense counts as an explanation.”

‘What was her explanation?”

“She was afraid—this is so ridiculous-she was afraid I was going to catch a virus from it.”

“Was Y.T. also afraid of catching this virus?”

“No. She said that only programmers could catch it.”

Why are they asking her all of these questions? They have all of this stuff on tape.

“Did you believe Y.T.’s explanation of why she broke the computer?”

That’s it.

That’s what they’re after.

They want to know the only thing they can’t directly tap-what’s going on in her mind. They want to know whether she believes Y.T.’s virus story.

And she knows she’s making a mistake just thinking these thoughts. Because those supercooled SQUIDs around her head are picking it up. They can’t tell what she’s thinking. But they can tell that something’s going on in her brain, that she’s using