![]() But cyberpunk, the sci-fi subgenre that gave us cyberspace, now seems a thing of the past, an old dystopian daydream of Reaganomics gone global. It spawned sub-subgenres, of course-splatterpunk with its ballistic gore and, more recently, steam-punk, a sentimental mixture of info-tech and industrial chic that answers globalization with Victoriana. Cyberpunk has been bleeding slowly ever since, never quite dying but no longer capable of the dazzling fictional displays that made it seem, for a time anyway, immortal. Neal Stephenson dealt the genre a killer blow with his virtual swift sword in Snow Crash (1992). But in retrospect, like the musical movement it invokes, cyberpunk appears shockingly short-lived: Gibson's Neuromancer (1984), Bruce Sterling's Schismatrix (1985)-only a few novels still wear all that black with panache. It was Goth angst meets digital wizardry. It has been over twenty-five years since Gibson hacked his way onto the science fiction continuum, creating a subgenre that became instantly infamous: cyberpunk. Old punks get day jobs, like Joe Strummer-or William Gibson. ![]() ![]() Old punks never die, only young ones (think Sid Vicious). ![]() The king called up his jet fighters He said you better earn your pay ![]()
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