Idoru by William Gibson Read Free Book Online Page A

idol-singers,” he said, starting up the hump-backed incline of the bridge. “The idoru . Some of them are enormously popular.”
    “Do people kill themselves over them?”
    “I don't know. They could do, I suppose.”
    “Do people marry them?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    “How about Rei Toei?” Wondering if that was how you pronounced it.
    “I'm afraid I don't know her,” he said, with the slight wince that came when you asked him about music that had come out since his own release. This always made Chia feel sorry for him, which she knew was ridiculous.
    “Never mind,” she said, and closed her eyes.
    She removed her glasses.
    After Venice, the plane felt even more low-ceilinged and narrow, a claustrophobic tube packed with seats and people.
    The blond was awake, watching her, looking a lot less like Ashleigh Modine Carter now that she'd removed most of her makeup. Her face only inches away.
    Then she smiled. It was a slow smile, modular, as though there were stages to it, each one governed by a separate shyness or hesitation.
    “I like your computer,” she said. “It looks like it was made by Indians or something.”
    Chia looked down at her Sandbenders. Turned off the red switch. “Coral,” she said. “These are turquoise. The ones that look like ivory are the inside of a kind of nut. Renewable.”
    “The rest is silver?”
    “Aluminum,” Chia said. “They melt old cans they dig up on the beach, cast it in sand molds. These panels are micarta. That's linen with this resin in it.”
    “I didn't know Indians could make computers,” the woman said, reaching out to touch the curved edge of the Sandbenders. Her voice was hesitant, light, like a child's. The nail on the finger that rested on her Sandbenders was bright red, the lacquer chipped through and ragged. A tremble, then the hand withdrew.
    “I drank too much. And with tequila in them, too. ‘Vitamin T,’ Eddie calls it. I wasn't bad , was I?”
    Chia shook her head.
    “I can't always remember, if I'm bad.”
    “Do you know how much longer it is to Tokyo?” Chia asked, all she could think of to say.
    “Nine hours easy,” the blond said, and sighed. “Subsonics just suck , don't they? Eddie had me booked on a super, in full business, but then he said something went wrong with the ticket. Eddie gets all the tickets from this place in Osaka. We went on Air France once, first class, and your seat turns into a bed and they tuck you in with a little quilt. And they have an open bar right there and they just leave the bottles out, and champagne and just the best food.” The memory didn't seem to cheer her up. “And they give you perfume and makeup in its own case, from Hermès. Real leather, too. Why are you going to Tokyo?”
    “Oh,” Chia said. “Oh. Well. My friend. To see my friend.”
    “It's so strange. You know? Since the quake.”
    “But they've built it all back now. Haven't they?”
    “Sure, but they did it all so fast, mostly with that nanotech, that just grows? Eddie got in there before the dust had settled. Told me you could see those towers growing, at night. Rooms up top like a honeycomb, and walls just sealing themselves over, one after another. Said it was like watching a candle melt, but in reverse. That's too scary. Doesn't make a sound. Machines too small to see. They can get into your body, you know?”
    Chia sensed an underlying edge of panic there. “Eddie?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.
    “Eddie's like a businessman. He went to Japan to make money after the earthquake. He says the infa, infa, the structure was wide open, then. He says it took the spine out of it, sort of, so you could come in and root around, quick, before it healed over and hardened up again. And it healed over around Eddie, like he's an implant or something, so now he's part of the infa, the infa—”
    “Infrastructure.”
    “The structure. Yeah. So now he's plugged in, to all that juice. He's a landlord, and he owns these