This book is made-up. Snow Crash is just the closest thing in real life, and it’s deliberately stupid in its own unique ways.

It’s the book where Hiro Protagonist, arguably the main character, gets harpooned out of his cozy life-or-death pizza delivery job and winds up saving anarcho-capitalist North America from the most evil force in the universe: the telephone company.

Until a man is twenty-five, he still thinks, every so often, that under the right circumstances he could be the baddest motherfucker in the world. If I moved to a martial-arts monastery in China and studied real hard for ten years. If my family was wiped out by Colombian drug dealers and I swore myself to revenge. If I got a fatal disease, had one year to live, and devoted it to wiping out street crime. If I just dropped out and devoted my life to being bad.

Hiro used to feel this way, too, but then he ran into Raven. In a way, this was liberating. He no longer has to worry about being the baddest motherfucker in the world. The position is taken.