The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallowed subcategory. He's got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books.
When they gave him the job, they gave him a gun. The Deliverator never deals in cash, but someone might come after him anyway—might want his car, or his cargo. The gun is tiny, aero-styled, lightweight, the kind of a gun a fashion designer would carry; it fires teensy darts that fly at five times the velocity of an SR-71 spy plane, and when you get done using it, you have to plug it into the cigarette lighter, because it runs on electricity.
The Deliverator never pulled that gun in anger, or in fear. He pulled it once in Gila Highlands. Some punks in Gila Highlands, a fancy Burbclave, wanted themselves a delivery, and they didn't want to pay for it. Thought they would impress the Deliverator with a baseball bat. The Deliverator took out his gun, centered its laser doo-hickey on that poised Louisville Slugger, fired it. The recoil was immense, as though the weapon had blown up in his hand. The middle third of the baseball bat turned into a column of burning sawdust accelerating in all directions like a bursting star. Punk ended up holding this bat handle with milky smoke pouring out the end. Stupid look on his face. Didn't get nothing but trouble from the Deliverator.
I really need to read Snow Crash again. I gave my copy away years ago when I was moving and got rid of a lot of my stuff, but now I'm middle-aged enough that I've been rebuilding my bookshelf
Snow Crash is a near future tech dystopia where corporations run most of the world, and people hang out in the meta verse - a virtual space. It's where assholes like Facebook got the idea from, despite snow crash being a dystopia.
The main plot is about some sort of sickness that's afflicting tech people. There's a lot more detail I don't remember.
A supporting character is a cool 15 year old that for some reason the author sexualizes and has a sex scene with her. He could've just made her like 20 but nope.
A supporting character is a cool 15 year old that for some reason the author sexualizes and has a sex scene with her. He could've just made her like 20 but nope.
A supporting character is a cool 15 year old that for some reason the author sexualizes and has a sex scene with her. He could’ve just made her like 20 but nope.
If they didn't have some kind of message about it being wrong then it is probably the author's fetish.
Gotcha. Does the relationship exist to build character or demonstrate that even the protagonist's morals have slipped along with the community's eithics?
I honestly don't remember the details very clearly. It ends badly for the guy in a weird way. I think it was mostly played straight as "this 15 year old girl totally wants to fuck this older man". I think she may have been kidnapped too?
It's been a while. I don't remember taking anything from that plot beat other than ick.