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The Peripheral
Cover of The Peripheral
The Peripheral
William Gibson returns with his first novel since 2010’s New York Times–bestselling Zero History.
Where Flynne and her brother, Burton, live, jobs outside the drug business are rare. Fortunately, Burton has his veteran’s benefits, for neural damage he suffered from implants during his time in the USMC’s elite Haptic Recon force. Then one night Burton has to go out, but there’s a job he’s supposed to do—a job Flynne didn’t know he had. Beta-testing part of a new game, he tells her. The job seems to be simple: work a perimeter around the image of a tower building. Little buglike things turn up. He’s supposed to get in their way, edge them back. That’s all there is to it. He’s offering Flynne a good price to take over for him. What she sees, though, isn’t what Burton told her to expect. It might be a game, but it might also be murder.
William Gibson returns with his first novel since 2010’s New York Times–bestselling Zero History.
Where Flynne and her brother, Burton, live, jobs outside the drug business are rare. Fortunately, Burton has his veteran’s benefits, for neural damage he suffered from implants during his time in the USMC’s elite Haptic Recon force. Then one night Burton has to go out, but there’s a job he’s supposed to do—a job Flynne didn’t know he had. Beta-testing part of a new game, he tells her. The job seems to be simple: work a perimeter around the image of a tower building. Little buglike things turn up. He’s supposed to get in their way, edge them back. That’s all there is to it. He’s offering Flynne a good price to take over for him. What she sees, though, isn’t what Burton told her to expect. It might be a game, but it might also be murder.
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  • From the cover 1.

    The Haptics

    They didn’t think Flynne’s brother had PTSD, but that sometimes the haptics glitched him. They said it was like phantom limb, ghosts of the tattoos he’d worn in the war, put there to tell him when to run,

    when to be still, when to do the bad-ass dance, which direction and

    what range. So they allowed him some disability for that, and he lived in the trailer down by the creek. An alcoholic uncle lived there when they were little, veteran of some other war, their father’s older brother. She and Burton and Leon used it for a fort, the summer she was ten. Leon tried to take girls there, later on, but it smelled too bad. When Burton got his discharge, it was empty, except for the biggest wasp nest any of them had ever seen. Most valuable thing on their property, Leon said. Airstream, 1977. He showed her ones on eBay that looked like blunt rif le slugs, went for crazy money in any condition at all. The uncle had gooped this one over with white expansion foam, gone gray and dirty now, to stop it leaking and for insulation. Leon said that had saved it from pickers. She thought it looked like a big old grub, but with tunnels back through it to the windows.

    Coming down the path, she saw stray crumbs of that foam, packed down hard in the dark earth. He had the trailer’s lights turned up, and closer, through a window, she partly saw him stand, turn, and on his spine and side the marks where they took the haptics off, like the skin was dusted with something dead-fish silver. They said they could get that off too, but he didn’t want to keep going back.

    “Hey, Burton,” she called.

    “Easy Ice,” he answered, her gamer tag, one hand bumping the door open, the other tugging a new white t-shirt down, over that chest the Corps gave him, covering the silvered patch above his navel, size and shape of a playing card.

    Inside, the trailer was the color of Vaseline, LEDs buried in it, bed- ded in Hefty Mart amber. She’d helped him sweep it out, before he moved in. He hadn’t bothered to bring the shop vac down from the garage, just bombed the inside a good inch thick with this Chinese polymer, dried glassy and f lexible. You could see stubs of burnt matches down inside that, or the cork-patterned paper on the squashed filter of a legally sold cigarette, older than she was. She knew where to find a rusty jeweler’s screwdriver, and somewhere else a 2009 quarter.

    Now he just got his stuff out before he hosed the inside, every week

    or two, like washing out Tupperware. Leon said the polymer was curatorial, how you could peel it all out before you put your American classic up on eBay. Let it take the dirt with it.

    Burton took her hand, squeezed, pulling her up and in.

    “You going to Davisville?” she asked. “Leon’s picking me up.”

    “Luke 4:5’s protesting there. Shaylene said.”

    He shrugged, moving a lot of muscle but not by much.

    “That was you, Burton. Last month. On the news. That funeral, in

    Carolina.”

    He didn’t quite smile.

    “You might’ve killed that boy.”

    He shook his head, just a fraction, eyes narrowed. “Scares me, you do that shit.”

    “You still walking point, for that lawyer in Tulsa?”

    “He isn’t playing. Busy lawyering, I guess.” “You’re the best he had. Showed him that.” “Just a game.” Telling herself, more than him. “Might as well been getting himself a Marine.”

    She thought she saw that thing the haptics did, then, that shiver,...

About the Author-
  • William Gibson is credited with having coined the term "cyberspace" and having envisioned both the Internet and virtual reality before either existed. He is the author of NeuromancerCount Zero, Mona Lisa Overdrive, Burning Chrome, Virtual Light, Idoru, All Tomorrow's Parties, Pattern Recognition, Spook Country, Zero History, Distrust That Particular Flavor, and The Peripheral. He lives in Vancouver, British Columbia, with his wife.  

    Lorelei King is an actress and a multi-award-winning narrator who has recorded more than 200 audiobooks. Her film credits include Notting HillThe Saint, and House of Mirth. She has played regular and recurring characters in such British television shows as ChefCold Feet, and Emmerdale.
Reviews-
  • Publisher's Weekly

    February 2, 2015
    Reader King does a fine job presenting this complex tale of alternate futures, nefarious plots, time travel, and gruesome crimes. In the not-so-distant-future, gamer Flynne Fisher is covering a beta-testing shift for her ex-Marine brother when she witnesses what she thinks is a murder—“some kind of nanotech chainsaw fantasy.” This new game connects Flynne, her brother, and their friends to a fantastical future world, where Flynne learns that her life in the present is in danger. King is handed a lot in this reading—shifting time periods, different points of view, tons of sci-fi speak, and a multitude of characters—and she handles it all with consummate skill. Her characters, especially the smart and sardonic Flynne, are nicely portrayed with precise individual personalities that fit perfectly. Her pacing is spot-on, never bogging down even when the story calls for a lot of exposition. In lesser hands such expository passages would grind this book to a mind-numbing halt, but King’s intelligent and engaging reading holds the listener solidly from one disc to the next. A Putnam hardcover.

  • Publisher's Weekly

    Starred review from September 1, 2014
    Seminal cyberpunk author Gibson, who has spent the last several years writing the more-or-less present-day Zero History series of novels, returns to the future with this slow-burning thriller, ambitiously structured on either side of an economic and ecological collapse known afterward as “the jackpot.” In the hardscrabble “pre-jackpot America“ of our near future, gamer Flynne Fisher is covering a beta-testing shift for her ex-Marine brother when she witnesses what she thinks is a gruesome murder—“some kind of nanotech chainsaw fantasy.“ In a depopulated London decades post-jackpot, Wilf Netherton, a disgraced publicist, is caught unawares when his latest client‘s sister disappears. The resulting investigation kicks Gibson’s discursive narrative into high gear as Flynne, allowed across time lines by use of a “peripheral“ (“an anthropomorphic drone... a telepresence avatar“), proves to be exactly the savvy, principled ally that enigmatic Det. Insp. Ainsley Lowbeer has been looking for. If the mechanics of time-travel are sometimes murky, the stakes are crystal clear when Flynne reaches out from Wilf’s past to alter her own future. All of Gibson’s characters are intensely real, and Flynne is a clever, compelling, stereotype-defying, unhesitating protagonist who makes this novel a standout. Agent: Martha Millard, Martha Millard Literary Agency.

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