SNOW CRASH
armor is thinner, and there’s good stuff on the other side of it, actual rooms instead of fuel tanks or ammunition holds.
Hiro chooses a room marked WARDROOM and opens fire. The hull of the Enterprise is surprisingly tough. Reason doesn’t just blow a crater straight through; it takes a few moments for the burst to penetrate. And then all it does is make a hole about six inches across. The recoil pushes Hiro back against the rusted hull of the oil tanker.
He can’t take the gun with him anyway. He holds the trigger down and just tries to keep it aimed in a consistent direction until all the ammunition is gone. Then he unstraps it from his body and dumps the whole thing overboard. It’ll go to the bottom and mark its position with a column of steam; later, Mr. Lee’s Greater Hong Kong can dispatch one of its environmental direct-action posses to pick it up. Then they can haul Hiro before the Tribunal of Environmental Crimes, if they want to. Right now he doesn’t care.
It takes half a dozen tries to secure the grappling hook in the jagged hole, twenty feet above the waterline.
As he’s wriggling through the hole, his coverall makes popping and hissing noises as the hot, sharp metal melts and tears through the synthetic material. He ends up leaving scraps of it behind, welded to the hull. He’s got a few first. and second-degree burns on the parts of his skin that are now exposed, but they don’t really hurt yet. That’s how wound up he is. Later, they’ll hurt. The soles of his shoes melt and sizzle as he treads on glowing hunks of shrapnel. The room is rather smoky, but aircraft carriers are nothing if not fire conscious, and not too much in this place is flammable. Hiro just walks through the smoke to the door, which has been carved into a steel doily by Reason. He kicks it out of its frame and enters a place that, in the blueprints, is simply marked PASSAGEWAY. Then, because this seems as good a time as any, he draws his katana.
60
When her partner is off doing something in Reality, his avatar goes kind of slack. The body sits there like an inflatable love doll, and the face continues to go through all kinds of stretching exercises. She does not know what he’s doing, but it looks like it must be exciting, because most of the time he’s either extremely surprised or scared shitless.
Shortly after he gets done talking to the Librarian dude about the aircraft carrier, she begins to hear deep rumbling noises-Reality noises-from outside. Sounds like a cross between a machine gun and a buzz saw. Whenever she hears that noise, Him’s face gets this astonished look like: I’m about to die.
Someone is tapping her on the shoulder. Some suit who has an early morning appointment in the Metaverse, figures that whatever this Kourier is doing can’t be all that important. She ignores it for a minute.
Then Hiro’s office goes out of focus, jumps up in the air like it is painted on a window shade, and she’s looking into the face of a guy. An Asian guy. A creep. A wirehead. One of the scary antenna dudes.
“Okay,” she says, “what do you want?”
He grabs her by the arm and hauls her out of the booth. There’s another one with him, and he grabs her other arm. They all start walking out of there.
“Let go my fucking arm,” she says. “I’ll go with you. It’s okay.”
It’s not the first time she’s been thrown out of a building full of suits. This time it’s a little different, though. This time, the bouncers are a couple of life-sized plastic action figures from Toys R Us.
And it’s not just that these guys probably don’t speak English. They just don’t act normal. She actually manages to twist one of her arms loose and the guy doesn’t smack her or anything, just turns rigidly toward her and paws at her mechanically until he’s got her by the arm again. No change in his face. His eyes stare like busted headlights. His mouth is open enough to let him breathe through it, but the lips never move, never change expression.
394