William Gibson used to have amazing ideas. This book wasn't one of them. It's full of uninteresting people doing uninteresting things. One of the main characters spends the whole book trying to find out who made her jean jacket, and that's a main plot point. It's only because it was written by William Gibson that it even maintains a sense of worthwhile-ness if that's a thing. He's still fantastic at setting and execution, but when the base plot of the book is so dull, it leaves you feeling very flat at the end.