Johnny Mnemonic

I have only met Bill Gibson once, long ago, in Vancouver when we were at the same party. We were both “up and coming” writers then, though I had a little bit of a jump on him, having published several stories that had received some attention, while he had only sold a couple things. He may have usurped my title as the “Tallest Science Fiction writer” (if you don’t count 6’9” Michael Crichton, who wrote only a few things that really counted as SF), though we never stood back to back to see. He was very complimentary to me, possibly even a tiny bit star-struck. Naturally I ate that up and liked him at once, but I really think I would have liked him in any case. He is a smart, funny, genial guy who anyone but a misanthrope would like.

I have not read the story this is based on, but having read a few others, I can’t believe that this disaster bears much resemblance to the source material. He’s far too good for that. The dystopian future rings true, but the story we are told here is just plain dumb. It is so bad, in fact, that we stopped watching it about halfway through. I have resolved to finish it some day, when I don’t mind wasting an hour. That day will probably come … but I’m not looking forward to it.