1985-Neuromancer by William Gibson

Author:William Gibson [Gibson, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction - Sci-Fi/Fantasy
ISBN: 9780441007462
Publisher: Ace Books
Published: 2000-07-01T05:00:00+00:00

11

“Case, what’s wrong with you?” Armitage said, as the waiter was seating them at his table in the Vingtieme Siecle. It was the smallest and most expensive of several floating restaurants on a small lake near the Intercontinental. Case shuddered. Bruce hadn’t said anything about after effects. He tried to pick up a glass of ice water, but his hands were shaking. “Something I ate, maybe.”

“I want you checked out by a medic,” Armitage said. “Just this hystamine reaction,” Case lied. “Get it when I travel, eat different stuff, sometimes.”

Armitage wore a dark suit, too formal for the place, and a white silk shirt. His gold bracelet rattled as he raised his wine and sipped. “I’ve ordered for you,” he said. Molly and Armitage ate in silence, while Case sawed shakily at his steak, reducing it to uneaten bite-sized fragments, which he pushed around in the rich sauce, finally abandoning the whole thing.

“Jesus,” Molly said, her own plate empty, “gimme that. You know what this costs?” She took his plate. ‘They gotta raise a whole animal for years and then they kill it. This isn’t vat stuff.” She forked a mouthful up and chewed. “Not hungry,” Case managed. His brain was deep-fried. No, he decided, it had been thrown into hot fat and left there and the fat had cooled, a thick dull grease congealing on the wrinkled lobes, shot through with greenish-purple flashes of pain.

“You look fucking awful,” Molly said cheerfully. Case tried the wine. The aftermath of the Betaphenethylamine made it taste like iodine.

The lights dimmed.

“Le Restaurant Vingtieme Siecle,” said a disembodied voice with a pronounced Sprawl accent, “proudly presents the holographic cabaret of Mr. Peter Riviera. “ Scattered applause from the other tables. A waiter lit a single candle and placed it in the center of their table, then began to remove the dishes. Soon a candle flickered at each of the restaurant’s dozen tables, and drinks were being poured.

“What’s happening?” Case asked Armitage, who said nothing.

Molly picked her teeth with a burgundy nail. “Good evening,” Riviera said, stepping forward on a small stage at the far end of the room. Case blinked. In his discomfort, he hadn’t noticed the stage. He hadn’t seen where Riviera had come from. His uneasiness increased.

At first he assumed the man was illuminated by a spotlight. Riviera glowed. The light clung around him like a skin, lit the dark hangings behind the stage. He was projecting. Riviera smiled. He wore a white dinner jacket. On his lapel, blue coals burned in the depths of a black carnation. His fingernails flashed as he raised his hands in a gesture of greeting, an embrace for his audience. Case heard the shallow water lap against the side of the restaurant.

“Tonight,” Riviera said, his long eyes shining, “I would like to perform an extended piece for you. A new work.” A cool ruby of light formed in the palm of his upraised right hand. He dropped it. A gray dove fluttered up from the point of impact and vanished into the shadows.

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