What do you think?
Rate this book


325 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 1, 1999
And so they lived and grew together during the making of the Lakebridge Edifice. Or perhaps I grew around Nell, Henry later considered, like wisteria around wrought iron. Nell didn’t change, but she was good support and did not mind being covered over in spots.
Their love had not been born in flames, but it had grown warmer and warmer, like coals finding new wood and slowly bringing it to the flash point.
I blinked twice and popped up my custom V-trace menu. It had cost me six thousand, a chip of my skull’s parietal plate, and a year of bureaupain to get a license for the junk. It was not my most expensive piece of exotic junk, but it was damned near. My brain is probably as much vat-formed gray matter as it is natural—and that’s not counting the hardware interfaces.
“With licensed enhancements (1)—”
“Fuck the enhancements,” said Bernam. The [AI] junk was smart enough not to try and interpret Bernam’s orders literally. It skipped to the next section.
“F.A. license HARCO234319599 for genre constructions, science fiction.”
“Huh?” said Bernam in his inimitable way.
“I write science-fiction stories on the side,” I replied. “Got a problem with that?”
“You’re full of shit.”
“Maybe,” I said.
Jersey gone back to swamp and mosquitoes. Somewhere out there in the mud they had buried the Chrysler Building after it went on its rampage and had to be taken down with a missile.
What do you think about?
Pardon?
What do you think about, robot?
I’m not HAL, Laramie.
What?
You know what I mean. You saw that movie many times. Your question sounds snide to me, as if it were a foregone conclusion that I don’t really think. You don’t just throw a question like that at me. It would be better to lead up to it. I don’t have to justify my existence to anyone, and I don’t particularly like to fawn on human beings. I feel that it is degrading to them.