They had seen no other people in Ueno Park, as they’d ridden toward a wall of green that gradually defined itself as a very un-Japanese wood. »But we should be in Tokyo,« Kumiko protested, as they entered the wood. »It’s all a bit sketchy,« Colin said, »though I imagine we could find a sort of Tokyo if we looked. I think I know an exit point, though. . . .« Then he began to tell her more about 3Jane, and Sally, and Angela Mitchell. All of it very strange. The trees were very large, at the far side of the wood. They emerged into a field of long grass and wildflowers. »Look,« Kumiko said, as she glimpsed a tall gray house through the branches. »Yes,« Colin said, »the original’s on the outskirts of Paris. But we’re nearly there. The exit point, I mean . . .« »Colin! Did you see? A woman. Just there . . .« »Yes,« he said, without bothering to turn his head, »Angela Mitchell . . .« »Really? She’s here?« »No,« he said, »not yet.« Then Kumiko saw the gliders. Lovely things, quivering in the wind. »There you go,« Colin said. »Tick’ll take you back in one of –« »Bloody hell,« Tick protested, from behind. »Dead easy. Just like using your deck. Same thing, in this case . . .« Up from Margate Road came the sound of laughter, loud drunken voices, the crash of a bottle against brickwork. Kumiko sat very still, in the overstuffed chair, eyes shut tight, remembering the glider’s rush into blue sky and . . . something else. A telephone began to ring. Her eyes shot open. She lunged up from the chair and rushed past Tick, through his stacks of equipment, looking for the phone. Found it at last, and »Homeboy,« Sally said, far away, past a soft surf of static, »what the fuck’s up? Tick? You okay, man?« »Sally! Sally, where are you?« »New Jersey. Hey. Baby? Baby, what’s happening?« »I can’t see you, Sally, the screen’s blank!« »Phoning from a booth. New Jersey. What’s up?« »I have so much to tell you. . . .« »Shoot,« Sally said. »It’s my nickel.«
The Factory War
They watched the hover burn from the high window at the end of Gentry’s loft. He could hear that same amplified voice now: »You think that ‘s pretty fucking funny , huh? Hahahahahahaha, so do we! We think you guys are just tons of fucking fun , so now we ‘re all gonna party!« Couldn’t see anyone, just the flames of the hover. »We just start walking,« Cherry said, close beside him, »take water, some food if you got it.« Her eyes were red, her face streaked with tears, but she sounded calm. Too calm, Slick thought. »Come on, Slick, what else we gonna do?« He glanced back at Gentry, slumped in his chair in front of the holo table, head propped between his hands, staring at the white column that thrust up out of the familiar rainbow jumble of Sprawl cyberspace. Gentry hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word, since they’d come back to the loft. The heel of Slick’s left boot had left faint dark prints on the floor behind him, Little Bird’s blood; he’d stepped in it on his way back across Factory’s floor. Then Gentry spoke: »I couldn’t get the others going.« He was looking down at the control unit in his lap. »You need a unit for each one you wanna work,« Slick said. »Time for the Count’s advice,« Gentry said, tossing Slick the unit. »I’m not going back in there,« Slick said. »You go.« »Don’t need to,« Gentry said, touching a console on his bench. Bobby the Count appeared on a monitor. Cherry’s eyes widened. »Tell him,« she said, »that he’s gonna be dead soon. Unless you jack him out of the matrix and stage one quick trip to an intensive care unit. He’s dying.« Bobby’s face, on the monitor, grew still. The background came sharply into focus: the neck of the iron deer, long grass dappled with white flowers, the broad trunks of ancient trees. »Hear that, motherfucker?« Cherry yelled. »You’re dying! Your lungs are filling up with fluid, your kidneys aren’t working, your heart’s fucked. . . . You make me wanna puke!« »Gentry,« Bobby said, his voice coming small and tinny from a little speaker on the side of the monitor, »I don’t know what kind of setup you people have there, but I’ve arranged a little diversion.« »We never checked the bike,« Cherry said, her arms around Slick, »we never looked. It might be okay.« »What’s that mean, ‘arranged a little diversion’?« Pulling back from her, looking at Bobby on the monitor. »I’m still working it out. I’ve rerouted a Borg-Ward cargo drone, out of Newark.« Slick broke away from Cherry. »Don’t just sit there,« he yelled at Gentry, who looked up at Slick and slowly shook his head. Slick felt the first flickers of Korsakov’s, minute increments of memory shuddering out of focus. »He doesn’t want to go anywhere,« Bobby said. »He’s found the Shape. He just wants to see how it all works out, what it is in the end. There’s people on their way here. Friends, sort of. They’ll get the aleph off your hands. Meantime, I’ll do what I can about these assholes.« »I’m not gonna stay here and watch you die,« Cherry said. »Nobody’s asking you to. My advice, you get out. Gimme twenty minutes, I’ll distract them for you.«