Neal Stephenson Quote

Better take her uniform -- all that gear, the second MetaCop suggests, notunlewdly.The manager looks at Y.T., trying not to let his gaze travel sinfully up anddown her body. For thousands of years his people have survived on alertness:waiting for Mongols to come galloping over the horizon, waiting for repeatoffenders to swing sawed-off shotguns across their check-out counters. Hisalertness right now is palpable and painful; he's like a goblet of hotnitroglycerin. The added question of sexual misconduct makes it even worse. Tohim it's no joke.Y.T. shrugs, trying to think of something unnerving and wacky. At this point,she is supposed to squeal and shrink, wriggle and whine, swoon and beg. Theyare threatening to take her clothes. How awful. But she does not get upsetbecause she knows that they are expecting her to.A Kourier has to establish space on the pavement. Predictable law-abidingbehavior lulls drivers. They mentally assign you to a little box in the lane,assume you will stay there, can't handle it when you leave that little box.Y.T. is not fond of boxes. Y.T. establishes her space on the pavement byzagging mightily from lane to lane, establishing a precedent of scaryrandomness. Keeps people on their toes, makes them react to her, instead of theother way round. Now these men are trying to put her in a box, make her followrules.She unzips her coverall all the way down below her navel. Underneath is naughtbut billowing pale flesh.The MetaCops raise their eyebrows.The manager jumps back, raises both hands up to form a visual shield, protectinghimself from the damaging input. No, no, nor' he says.Y.T. shrugs, zips herself back up.