The Diamond Age Read Online Free PDF Page A

at that time were newish devices capable of seeing and manipulating individual atoms. The field was an obscure one then, the clients tended to be large research institutions, and practical applications seemed far away. But it was perfect for a man who wanted to study nanotechnology, and McGraw began doing so, working late at night on his own time. Given his diligence, his self-confidence, his intelligence ("adaptable, relentless, but not really brilliant"), and the basic grasp of business he'd picked up on the farm, it was inevitable that he would become one of the few hundred pioneers of nanotechnological revolution; that his own company, which he founded five years after he moved to Minneapolis, would survive long enough to be absorbed into Apthorp; and that he would navigate Apthorp's political and economic currents well enough to develop a decent equity position.
      He still owned the family farm in northwestern Iowa, along with a few hundred thousand acres of adjoining land, which he was turning back into a tall-grass prairie, complete with herds of bison and real Indians who had discovered that riding around on horses hunting wild game was a better deal than pissing yourself in gutters in Minneapolis or Seattle. But for the most part he stayed on New Chusan, which was for all practical purposes his ducal estate. . . .
      "Public relations?" said Finkle-McGraw.
      "Sir?" Modern etiquette was streamlined; no "Your Grace" or other honorifics were necessary in such an informal setting.
      "Your department, sir."
      Hackworth had given him his social card, which was appropriate under these circumstances but revealed nothing else.
      "Engineering. Bespoke."
      "Oh, really. I'd thought anyone who could recognise Wordsworth must be one of those artsy sorts in P.R."
      "Not in this case, sir. I'm an engineer. Just promoted to Bespoke recently. Did some work on this project, as it happens."
      "What sort of work?"
      "Oh, P.I. stuff mostly," Hackworth said. Supposedly Finkle-McGraw still kept up with things and would recognize the abbreviation for pseudo-intelligence, and perhaps even appreciate that Hackworth had made this assumption.
      Finkle-McGraw brightened a bit. "You know, when I was a lad they called it A.I. Artificial intelligence."
      Hackworth allowed himself a tight, narrow, and brief smile. "Well, there's something to be said for cheekiness, I suppose."
      "In what way was pseudo-intelligence used here?"
      "Strictly on MPS's side of the project, sir." Imperial Tectonics had done the island, buildings, and vegetation. Machine-Phase Systems-Hackworth's employer-did anything that moved. "Stereotyped behaviors were fine for the birds, dinosaurs, and so on, but for the centaurs and fauns we wanted more interactivity, something that would provide an illusion of sentience."
      "Yes, well done, well done, Mr. Hackworth."
      "Thank you, sir."
      "Now, I know perfectly well that only the very finest engineers make it to Bespoke. Suppose you tell me how an aficionado of Romantic poets made it into such a position."
      Hackworth was taken aback by this and tried to respond without seeming to put on airs. "Surely a man in your position does not see any contradiction-"
      "But a man in my position was not responsible for promoting you to Bespoke. A man in an entirely different position was. And I am very much afraid that such men do tend to see a contradiction."
      "Yes, I see. Well, sir, I studied English literature in college."
      "Ah! So you are not one of those who followed the straight and narrow path to engineering."
      "I suppose not, sir."
      "And your colleagues at Bespoke?"
      "Well, if I understand your question, sir, I would say that, as compared with other departments, a relatively large proportion of Bespoke engineers have had- well, for lack of a better way of describing it, interesting lives."
      "And what makes one man's life more interesting than another's?"
      "In general, I should