“Welcome to the Republic,” said the dinosaur, its voice the voice of some beautiful woman. It smiled, the ivory of its teeth carved into whole temples. Rydell tried to look at the carvings; they got really clear for a second, and then something happened.
“You don’t have a third the bandwidth you need,” the dreadlocked mountain said, its voice about what you’d expect from a mountain. “You’re in K-Tel space…”
“We could turn off the emulator,” the thing made of television suggested, its voice modulating up out of the waterfall-hiss.
“Don’t bother,” said the dinosaur. “I don’t think this is going to be much of a conversation.”
— William Gibson, Virtual Light [ ch. 35, The Republic Of Desire ]
