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Quote by William Gibson

Work

Neuromancer

William Gibson's 'Neuromancer' is a seminal work in the cyberpunk genre, blending advanced technology with a dystopian society. The story follows Case, a washed-up computer hacker, as he navigates a world where technology and consciousness intertwine. The novel is renowned for its innovative narrative style and its portrayal of a future where artificial intelligence and virtual reality are commonplace. more

Author

William Gibson
William Gibson

William Gibson, born on March 17, 1948, is a renowned science fiction novelist from Canada. His works are known for their unique futurist style and profound insights into technological development, making him a representative figure in the cyberpunk literary genre. more

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“He slotted some ice, connected the construct, and jacked in. It was exactly the sensation of someone reading over his shoulder. He coughed. "Dix? McCoy? That you man?" His throat was tight. "Hey, bro," said a directionless voice. "It's Case, man. Remember?" "Miami, joeboy, quick study." "What's the last thing you remember before I spoke to you, Dix?" "Nothin'." "Hang on." He disconnected the construct. The presence was gone. He reconnected it. "Dix? Who am I?" "You got me hung, Jack. Who the fuck are you?" "Ca--your buddy. Partner. What's happening, man?" "Good question." "Remember me being here, a second ago?" "No." "Know how a ROM personality construct works?" "Sure, bro, it's a firmware construct." "So I jack it into the bank I'm using, I can give it sequential real-time memory?" "Guess so," said the construct. "Okay, Dix,. You are a ROM construct. Got me?" "If you say so," said the construct. "Who are you?" "Case." "Miami," said the voice, "joeboy, quick study.”

“The bartender pursed his lips and nodded when she showed him one of her bills, so she told him to get her a shot of bourbon and a beer on the side, which was what Eddy always got if he was paying for it himself. If somebody else was paying, he'd order mixed drinks the bartender didn't know how to make, then spend a lot of time explaining exactly how you made the thing. Then he'd drink it and bitch about how it wasn't as good as the ones they made in L.A. or Singapore or some other place she knew he'd never been.”

“Toen ze de fabriek ontdekte, heel ver van het dorp, aan de randen van het gebied dat ze in een dag kon bereiken, liep ze er lang omheen zonder naar binnen te durven gaan. Ze werd weerhouden door het monsterlijke geluid dat ontsnapte uit het gebouw, omheind door twee rijen hoge hekken die in het midden waren ingestort en verwoest. Alles was verlaten. De hoofdingang stond open en daaruit ontsnapte een jammerklacht, half smeekbede, half uitgeputte woede, vergezeld door dunne rook met vonken die rook naar metaal, motorolie en verbrand elastiek.”