Jeff Noon - Vurt

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If you like challenging science fiction, then Jeff Noon is the author for you. Vurt, winner of the 1994 Arthur C. Clarke award, is a cyberpunk novel with a difference, a rollicking, dark, yet humorous examination of a future in which the boundaries between reality and virtual reality are as tenuous as the brush of a feather. But no review can do Noon's writing justice: it's a phantasmagoric combination of the more imaginative science fiction masters, such as Phillip K. Dick, genres such as cyberpunk and pulp fiction, and drug culture.

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Her eyes were sending me fiery signals. All I wanted was to pull away and be out of there. But her voice was pulling me back; "The saddest thing is, I could really take you somewhere. Somewhere good. Don't you want that, Scribble?"

Her eyes were a deep lunar green in the watery light, flashing with stars of yellow. Lucinda came close, in the soft rain, and kissed me. Her lips had a honey taste to them, and I felt myself slipping. Slipping into the rain and the water, and the Vurtflesh. Her fingers were playing along the small of my back like the ripple effect of the moon's tide, as it pulled and pushed at the waters of the Ship Canal.

Just do it.

I pulled my lips away from hers with a soft sound.

Her eyes were looking at me, and I just couldn't believe it.

"I'm going back to the house," she said. "Barnie's working tonight. And then he's going to visit Shadowtown. You want to come back with me?"

"I'm not very good with women," I whispered.

"Try it sometime," Lucinda said. She was a pale shape in the darkness, but her words cut me to the heart.

Try it sometime.

Just do it.

And I was sorely tempted. So much so that I looked deep into those eyes of green and yellow, and I saw something new there, not of herself. Lucinda was taken over and blue eyes I knew so well were staring at me from behind the green fronds of hair.

"Desdemona?" I cried. "Is that you, sister?"

It was that old Desdemona look of love and lust. I was drawn forward into her arms, falling into memories. I could do nothing but follow her back to the house, where we made love against the statue of Virgin Mary. We were doing a Catholic Fuck, and this from a total unbeliever. Never mind. I was making love to Cinders O'Juniper, the queen of pink feathers. I'd done it before of course - what young kid hasn't tried this one? - but this was for real now, too real. So much so that I could barely take it, especially with Desdemona flickering inside of Cinders' eyes, calling out to me. And when we reached the peak, and the woman's voice was screaming "Save me, oh save me!" I couldn't tell if it was Cinders or my sister that was doing the calling. And that made the ending bitter and sweet at the same time, with the Virgin's blood falling on to my skin, until a moment of release burst within me and I sprayed it all out, into the dream and the real, until both were saturated.

I woke up in my sister's arms, or so it felt, until Cinders turned her face to mine, sleepily. "What happened then, baby?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"I felt like I was somebody else."

You were. Well, kind of. Partly. Halfway. I didn't have the words to tell her what I was feeling.

"Felt good," she said, but I didn't feel any pride, or anything. Because I knew that Desdemona was in there, somewhere, using the Vurt in Cinders to get to me.

"This is just a one-off?" Cinders asked.

"I think so."

"You've got other things to do?"

"Some." And I told her about my sister and how I was trying to get her back. And all about the obstacles in my way. And then Lucinda said this, and it killed me, "Maybe you could swap me back?"

What could I do to answer that?

"I've got the Vurt in me," she said. "I think I've got the worth. Enough to satisfy Hobart. Let's do it. This life tires me."

I was dumbstruck.

"No. No, it cannot happen." I actually said that. Cinders meant too much to me. Even if I never saw her again. Too much.

Her eyes were closing on the world, and when she spoke, it was from far down inside the dream, "Find what you want."

"I'm trying to."

"Keep the faith…" Her last words before sleep.

I climbed naked out of the Catholic bed, trying to find my scattered clothes in the grey light. Through the bedroom window I could see the moon shining through a ribbon of clouds. Maybe it was too late. I picked up my jacket and pulled the silver feather from the inside pocket. I took a last look down at Cinders.

What was I doing, leaving this woman?

I checked the time from the flower clock and then pushed the feather deep, between my lips.

Going silver.

Falling…

Hit by darkness…

A ROOM IN ENGLAND

What…

Nothing here…

I'm…

Darkness…

Nothing here…

There's nothing here! For fuck's sake!!!

Darkness…

Falling…

I'm not here. There's not even me here. Just the thought that I might be here. I think. Or don't think. No, don't stop thinking, Scribble! Because then even you won't be here any more. Don't stop thinking…

No. Not falling, floating…

In the darkness…

Where the fuck am I?

You're here, thinking about here…

Keep thinking…

But who's doing the thinking for me…

You are, Scribble…

Right…

Who's Scribble…

You are…

Right…

Get me out of here!!!

Darkness…

A single star of light… up ahead… where's up… where's ahead… where is my head… this is my head… and the star's inside my head…

Twinkle, twinkle… little star… how I wonder what you are…

The little silver star was writing letters in the night… in my head… just like…

What was it like?

LOADING SNIFFING GENERAL… PLEASE BE PATIENT.

Right…

Silver star…

Just like a cursor… that's it… I'm in a feather…

I am a feather…

The silver star is scrolling…

1. EDIT

2. CLONE

3. HELP

4. DOOR

5. MAP

6. ESCAPE
PLEASE SELECT…

I'm thinking about the number four…

Four for a door… remember that…

Why… just remember it…

THIS OPTION WILL ALLOW YOU ACCESS THROUGH DOORS BETWEEN THEATRES…
PLEASE SELECT…

1. BLUE

2. BLACK

3. PINK

4. SILVER

5. LIFE

6. CAT

7. YELLOW
8. HOBART

Five is alive… five is alivev remember that…

I'm thinking about the number seven… because I can't resist it…

Why not…

Because of Desdemona…

Who…

I AM SORRY… INSUFFICIENT CODING ACCESS… PLEASE RESELECT…

I'm thinking about the number eight…just for the hell of it…

I AM SORRY… INSUFFICIENT CODING ACCESS… AND ANYWAY HOBART IS IN A MEETING JUST NOW…PLEASE RESELECT… AND STOP WASTING MY TIME…

I'm thinking about the number six…

THAT'S OKAY… LOADING… PLEASE HOLD ON…

What…

Christ!

Falling… falling… really falling now… down through the layers of darkness… more and more stars in the sky as I rush through… silver stars… more and more of them… until the darkness has drained away… and I'm falling like a stone through the silverness… getting my thoughts back… one by one… until I know where I am… and who I am… and where I'm going…

A door opening in the silver…

Through…

Sniffing General was sitting at his desk, pushing something around with his paper-knife. He was a small man, not much hair, thick glasses covering his eyes, and he didn't bother to look up as I came into his office. "You've got a nerve," he said. It was a thin voice, edging towards a whine.

"I want to see the Game Cat."

"I mean, asking to see Hobart. That's ridiculous."

He'd finished with the knife now, and he was gazing down at his desk, almost lovingly. I stepped closer. A line of blue powder on a small shaving mirror, that lay face-up on his desk, and I couldn't tell if he was smiling at the Choke powder, or his own reflection. There was a door in the wood panelling behind him, fitted out with frosted glass. The words Game Cat were etched onto a small brass plate, fixed just below the glass.

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