By William Gibson
Turner, company mercenary, wakes in a reconstructed physique, a gorgeous girl via his part. Then Hosaka company reactivates him for a undertaking extra harmful than the only he's convalescing from: Maas-Neotek's leader of R&D is defecting. Turner is the single assigned to get him out intact, in addition to the biochip he's perfected. yet this proves to be of perfect curiosity to yes other parties--some of whom aren't remotely human.
Bobby Newmark is entirely human: a rustbelt data-hustler absolutely unprepared for what comes his means whilst the defection triggers warfare in our on-line world. With voodoo on the web and a value on his head, Newmark thinks he's in simple terms attempting to get out alive. till he meets the angel.
A fashionable, streetsmart, frighteningly possible parable of the future.
Gibson's first novel, Neuromancer, used to be greeted with hosannas and showered with awards. This moment booklet, set within the comparable universe, back bargains a faddish, glitzy floor now not in contrast to that of Miami Vice. Gibson's relevant snapshot is the shadow containers built through the artist Joseph Cornell, collections of doubtless unrelated items whose juxtaposition creates a brand new influence. within the comparable model, the unconventional has 3 protagonists, every one of whom is placing jointly jigsaw clues in pursuit of his separate objective. the company headhunter, the artwork broker and the pc hacker all locate themselves being manipulatedjust because the writer contrives to have their paths converge.
“Potent and heady.”
— Philadelphia day-by-day News
“An interesting solid of characters and a tough,
glitzy photo of machine awareness and the way forward for mankind.”
— Richmond Times-Dispatch
“Count 0 stocks with Neuromancer that novel’s wonderful use of language, breakneck pacing, technological innovation, and gritty brand-name realism.”
— myth Review
“William Gibson’s prose, miraculous in its readability and ability, turns into high-tech electrical poetry.”
— Bruce Sterling
“Suspense, action…a energetic story…a subtle model of the sentient machine, some distance from the outdated types that have been easily out to Rule the World.”
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Extra info for Count Zero (Sprawl, Book 2)
Charcoal he could make and a bellows was simply an animal skin and some branches. Whittle a nozzle. Any damfool who couldn't own a wheel with all that at his disposal deserved to lift and carry. He had ten thousand trees, didn't he? Finland didn't have a damn thing but trees. Yet Finland was the finest little country in the world. " If Finland was still there- Wherever the world was- Maybe the girls would like a Finnish bath. Down where they could plunge in afterwards and squeal and feel good. " Grace might like it.
Barbara and I had some after you went to sleep, Duke. There was some left. I never saw it again. " "Oh! I did, while we were bailing. Busted. " Hugh went to the medicines drawer, got a bottle with a broken seal. "Count these Seconal capsules. " "Karen had one at bedtime, one later; Joe had one. Neither Barbara nor I had any, nor Grace. " His father began to count as Duke pushed them aside. "Ninety-one," Duke announced. " Hugh put the capsules back. " "What do we do, Dad? Stomach pump? " "Slow down, Duke.
The only other precaution he took was for them to keep guns by them-all but his wife. Grace Farnham "couldn't stand guns," and resented having to eat with guns in sight. But she ate with good appetite. Duke had built a fire and they were blessed with hot coffee, hot canned beef, hot peas, hot canned sweet potatoes, and canned fruit salad-and cigarettes with no worry about air or fire. "That was lovely," Grace admitted. "Hubert dear? Do you know what it would take to make it just perfect? " "What, dear?