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Zero History
I’m really enjoying reading William Gibson’s latest, Zero History, which includes such lovely bits of writing as this:
He looked down at the screen, the glowing map. Saw it as a window into the city’s underlying fabric, as though he held something from which a rectangular chip of London’s surface had been pried, revealing a substrate of bright code. But really, wasn’t the opposite true, the city the code that underlay the map?
