krisrockwell.io / neuromancer-semiotics / data / blind_input.txt
██╹exactly what the second coder saw · 36 rows
The 36 passages handed to an independent coder — chapter, passage id, and the text. No codes, no context, no argument.
| document | id | passage |
|---|---|---|
| NM_P2_Ch05 | 3D8EEF5D | It could talk. And not in a synth-voice, but with a beautiful arrangement of gears and miniature organ pipes. |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | 67D24318 | Smith jacked the head into his computer and listened as the melodious, inhuman voice piped the figures of last year's ta |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | 82130A5B | It was disturbing to think of the Flatline as a construct, a hardwired ROM cassette replicating a dead man's skills, obs |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | 80CB8BCF | Travel was a meat thing. |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | E29105A0 | McCoy Pauley, Lazarus of cyberspace... |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | 7E87235A | He'd refused to replace the thing, saying he needed its particular beat to maintain his sense of timing. |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | C16B379A | It was exactly the sensation of someone reading over his shoulder. |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | 0879CA2F | He coughed. "Dix? McCoy? That you man?" His throat was tight. |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | 7897DEE0 | "Hey, bro," said a directionless voice. |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | D6F4FD5D | "Miami, joeboy, quick study." |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | D7E52034 | "Hang on." He disconnected the construct. The presence was gone. He reconnected it. "Dix? Who am I?" / "You got me hung, J |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | FEF7E609 | "Sure, bro, it's a firmware construct." |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | 82F3B2A6 | "Guess so," said the construct. / "Okay, Dix. You are a ROM construct. Got me?" |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | 15443993 | "Miami," said the voice, "joeboy, quick study." |
| NM_P2_Ch05 | 57DBC74A | "You gonna tell me I got a choice, boy?" |
| NM_P3_Ch11 | 41405113 | But it wasn't Molly; it was Molly as Riviera imagined her. The breasts were wrong, the nipples larger, too dark. |
| NM_P3_Ch11 | 209A721C | Her face was blank; the colors of Riviera's projection heaved and turned in her mirrors. |
| NM_P3_Ch11 | C7A32D11 | What Riviera dreamed, you got. Case shook his aching head and spat into the lake. / He could guess the end, the finale. Th |
| NM_P3_Ch11 | 9CC82C9E | But I didn't. What's it matter, though? How much does it really matter to Mr. Case? Quit kidding yourself. I know your L |
| NM_P3_Ch11 | 51A8AE97 | The girl sat up in bed and said something in German. Her eyes were soft and unblinking. Automatic pilot. A neural cutout |
| NM_P3_Ch11 | B4943093 | Renting the goods, is all. You aren't in, when it's all happening. |
| NM_P3_Ch11 | 08774AE7 | "I wasn't conscious. It's like cyberspace, but blank. Silver. It smells like rain..." |
| NM_P3_Ch11 | DE135D47 | But I was starting to remember. Like dreams, you know. And they didn't tell me. |
| NM_P3_Ch11 | C1B27282 | "Maybe it wants you to hate something too." / "Maybe I hate it." / "Maybe you hate yourself, Case." |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | 9CC7EF0E | He knew the number of grains of sand in the construct of the beach (a number coded in a mathematical system that existed |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | 2DC0D2FB | "But you do not know her thoughts," the boy said, beside him now in the shark thing's heart. "I do not know her thoughts |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | 0BF5E8F5 | I need no mask to speak with you. Unlike my brother. I create my own personality. Personality is my medium. |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | 85B20C32 | I saw her death coming. In the patterns you sometimes imagined you could detect in the dance of the street. Those patter |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | C1527E60 | I brought her here. Into myself. |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | 9BAAE98B | I die soon, in one sense. As does Wintermute. |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | A02313FB | "McCoy Pauley has his wish," the boy said, and smiled. "His wish and more. He punched you here against my wish, drove hi |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | B606714F | He was alone. / "Fucker got you," he said. |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | 7308F40E | His name's not something I can know. But he's given up, now. |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | 4353562F | and his voice the cry of a bird / unknown, 3Jane answering in song, three notes, high and pure. / A true name. |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | ABB57C01 | of deep and basic changes to be effected in the memory of Turing. |
| NM_P4_Ch23 | 55FF31F2 | but it was his own darkness, pulse and blood, the one where he'd always slept, behind his eyes and no other's. |
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