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Chapter 15

           

           `Everybodydoes,’theFinnsaid,droppinghiscigaretteandgrindingitoutunderhisheel,`butnotmanyofyoucanaccessit.Artistscan,mostly,ifthey’reanygood.Ifyoucouldlaythisconstructoverthereality,theFinn’splaceinlowerManhattan,you’dseeadifference,butmaybenotasmuchasyou’dthink.Memory’sholographic,foryou.’TheFinntuggedatoneofhissmallears.`I’mdifferent.’

           `Howdoyoumean,holographic?’ThewordmadehimthinkofRiviera.

           `Theholographicparadigmistheclosestthingyou’veworkedouttoarepresentationofhumanmemory,isall.Butyou’veneverdoneanythingaboutit.People,Imean.’TheFinnsteppedforwardandcantedhisstreamlinedskulltopeerupatCase.`Maybeifyouhad,Iwouldn’tbehappening.’

           `What’sthatsupposedtomean?’

           TheFinnshrugged.Histatteredtweedwastoowideacrosstheshoulders,anddidn’tquitesettlebackintoposition.`I’mtryingtohelpyou,Case.’

           `Why?’

           `BecauseIneedyou.’Thelargeyellowteethappearedagain.`Andbecauseyouneedme.’

           `Bullshit.Canyoureadmymind,Finn?’Hegrimaced.`Wintermute,Imean.’

           `Mindsaren’tread.See,you’vestillgottheparadigmsprintgaveyou,andyou’rebarelyprint-literate.Icanaccessyourmemory,butthat’snotthesameasyourmind.

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