There’s another thing he doesn’t mention, which is that he’s always considered himself to be Da5id’s equal, and he can’t stand the idea of feeding off Da5id’s little crumbs and tidbits, like a dog curled up under his table.
“I was glad to see Juanita come in here—even as a black-and-white,” Da5id says. “For her not to use The Black Sun—it’s like Alexander Graham Bell refusing to use the telephone.”
“Why did she come in tonight?”
“Something’s bugging her,” Da5id says. “She wanted to know if I’d seen certain people on the Street.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“She’s worried about a really large guy with long black hair,” Da5id says. “Peddling something called—get this—Snow Crash.”
“Has she tried the Library?”
“Yeah. I assume so, anyway.”
“Have you seen this guy?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s not hard to find him,” Da5id says. “He’s right outside the door. I got this from him.”
Da5id scans the table, picks up one of the hypercards, and shows it to Hiro.
“Da5id,” Hiro says, “I can’t believe you took a hypercard from a black-and-white person.”
Da5id laughs. “This is not the old days, my friend. I’ve got so much antiviral medicine in my system that nothing could get through. I get so much contaminated shit from all the hackers who come through here, it’s like working in a plague ward. So I’m not afraid of whatever’s in this hypercard.”
“Well, in that case, I’m curious,” Hiro says.
“Yeah. Me, too.” Da5id laughs.
“It’s probably something very disappointing.”
“Probably an animercial,” Da5id agrees. “Think I should do it?”
“Yeah. Go for it. It’s not every day you get to try out a new drug,” Hiro says.
“Well, you can try one every day if you want to,” Da5id says, “but it’s not every day you find one that can’t hurt you.” He picks up the hypercard and tears it in half.
For a second, nothing happens. “I’m waiting,” Da5id says.
An avatar materializes on the table in front of Da5id, starting out ghostly and transparent, gradually becoming solid and three-dimensional. It’s a really trite effect; Hiro and Da5id are already laughing.
The avatar is a stark naked Brandy. It doesn’t even look like the standard Brandy; this looks like one of the cheap Taiwanese Brandy knockoffs. Clearly, it’s just a daemon. She is holding a pair of tubes in her hands, about the size of paper-towel rolls.
Da5id is leaning back in his chair, enjoying this. There is something hilariously tawdry about the entire scene.
The Brandy leans forward, beckoning Da5id toward her. Da5id leans into her face, grinning broadly. She puts her crude, ruby-red lips up by his ear and mumbles something that Hiro can’t hear.
When she leans back away from Da5id, his face has changed. He looks dazed and expressionless. Maybe Da5id really looks that way; maybe Snow Crash has messed up his avatar somehow so that it’s no longer tracking Da5id’s true facial expressions. But he’s staring straight ahead, eyes frozen in their sockets.
The Brandy holds the pair of tubes up in front of Da5id’s immobilized face and spreads them apart. It’s actually a scroll. She’s unrolling it right in front of Da5id’s face, spreading it apart like a flat two-dimensional screen in front of his eyes. Da5id’s paralyzed face has taken on a bluish tinge as it reflects light coming out of the scroll.
Hiro walks around the table to look. He gets a brief glimpse of the scroll before the Brandy snaps it shut again. It is a living wall of light, like a flexible, flat-screened television set, and it’s not showing anything at all. Just static. White noise. Snow.
Then she’s gone, leaving no trace behind. Desultory, sarcastic applause sounds from a few tables in the Hacker Quadrant.
Da5id’s back to normal, wearing a grin that’s part snide and part embarrassed.
“What was it?” Hiro says. “I just glimpsed some snow at the very end.”
“You saw the whole thing,” Da5id says. “A fixed-pattern of black-and-white pixels, fairly high-resolution. Just a few hundred thousand ones and zeroes for me to look at.”
“So in other words, someone just exposed your optic nerve to, what, maybe a hundred thousand bytes of information,” Hiro says.
“Noise, is more like it.”
“Well, all information looks like noise until you break the code,” Hiro says.
“Why would anyone show me information in binary code? I’m not a computer. I can’t read a bitmap.”
“Relax, Da5id, I’m just shitting you,” Hiro says.
“You know what it was? You know how hackers are always trying to show me samples of their work?”
“Yeah.”
“Some hacker came up with this scheme to show me his stuff. And everything worked fine until the moment the Brandy opened the scroll—but his code was buggy, and it snow-crashed at the wrong moment, so instead of seeing his output, all I saw was snow.”
“Then why did he call the thing Snow Crash?”
“Gallows humor. He knew it was buggy.”
“What did the Brandy whisper in your ear?”
“Some language I didn’t recognize,” Da5id says. “Just a bunch of babble.”
Babble. Babel.
“Afterward, you looked sort of stunned.”
Da5id looks resentful. “I wasn’t stunned. I just found the whole experience so weird, I guess I just was taken aback for a second.”
Hiro is giving him an extremely dubious look. Da5id notices it and stands up. “Want to go see what your competitors in Nippon are up to?”
“What competitors?”
“You used to design avatars for rock stars, right?”
“Still do.”
“Well, Sushi K is here tonight.”
“Oh, yeah. The hairdo the size of a galaxy.”