Set in the same world as Pattern Recognition. Hollis Henry, former singer for a 90s band with a cult following, is now a freelance journalist. While investigating an underground art scene, she stumbles across a conspiracy that stretches across the globe. Young man Tito and junkie/linguist Milgrim are involved as well. The chapters are about three pages long each, and pretty much nothing happens. Everyone talks in short, choppy non-sequitars that they then explain at unrealistic length. At the end of the book, I still knew very little about any of the POV characters, and cared even less. I never got the feel that Gibson cared about the plot, or the characters, or their development--he just wanted to describe hotel rooms and how very cool and mysterious Bigend is. Well, I don't care about hotel rooms, no matter how well described, and I don't find ad executives particularly fascinating. It's a boring book with nothing to say and no story to tell. If it had been a short story about the underground artists, the concept might have been enough to make it enjoyable. But stretched into a novel, what little interest there is diluted into nothingness.