Burning Chrome

It was hot, the night we burned Chrome.

Out in the malls and plazas, moths were batting themselves to death against the neon, but in Bobby’s loft the only light came from a monitor screen and the green and red LEDs on the face of the matrix simulator.


I knew every chip in Bobby’s simulator by heart; it looked like your workaday Ono-Sendai VII. the “Cyberspace Seven,” but I’d rebuilt it so many time that you’d have had a hard time finding a square millimeter of factory cir- cuitry in all that silicon.

(William Gibson, Burning Chrome


Per quanto Gibson non mi faccia impazzire, questo racconto è proprio bello, e di tanto in tanto torno a rileggerlo, peccato solo che in inglese sia molto difficile da seguire.






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