Monday, July 6, 2015

Monday Excerpt: Blue Haze of Cigarette Smoke

Now Playing: Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross - Sugar Storm (Gone Girl OST)
Maybe I could get a bit more imaginative than doing sci-fi classics back to back, but I didn't see point in delaying this one just because I noticed a pattern :P

This book is actually a bit difficult to read at times, and since technology's moved on, some components sadly didn't age well. But I'll alwaysss love the writing, especially because of scenes like this. They're so short, but so integral. 

This passage happens fairly early on, so there aren't any spoilers. If I could summarize the entire genre of cyberpunk into a few paragraphs, it'd be with this moment. It all comes down to atmosphere. 

Plus I just love how color is integrated. 

And that was the part of him, smug in its expectation of death, that most hated the thought of Linda Lee. 
He'd found her, one rainy night, in an arcade. 
Under bright ghosts burning through a blue haze of cigarette smoke, holograms of Wizard's Castle, Tank War Europa, the New York skyline[...] And now he remembered her that way, her face bathed in restless laser light, features reduced to a code: her cheekbones flaring scarlet as Wizard's Castle burned, forehead drenched with azure when Munich fell to the Tank War, mouth touched with hot gold as a gliding cursor struck sparks from the night, with a brick of Wage's ketamine on its way to Yokohama and the money already in his pocket. He'd come in out of the warm rain that sizzled across the Ninsei pavement and somehow she'd been singled out for him, one face out of the dozens who stood at the consoles, lost in the game she played. The expression on her face, then, had been the one he'd seen, hours later, on her sleeping face in a portside coffin, her upper lip like the line children draw to represent a bird in flight. 
Crossing the arcade to stand beside her, high on the deal he'd made, he saw her glance up. Gray eyes rimmed with smudged black paintstick. Eyes of some animal pinned in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. 
Their night together stretching into a morning, into tickets at the hoverport and his first trip across the Bay. The rain kept up, falling along Harajuku, beading on her plastic jacket, the children of Tokyo trooping past the famous boutiques in white loafers and clingwrap capes, until she'd stood with him in the midnight clatter of a pachinko parlor and held his hand like a child.
- Neuromancer by William Gibson

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"Science and science fiction have done a kind of dance over the last century... The scientists make a finding. It inspires science fiction writers to write about it, and a host of young people read the science fiction and are excited, and inspired to become scientists...which they do, which then feeds again into another generation of science fiction and science..."
- Carl Sagan, in his message to future explorers of Mars.