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319 pages, Paperback
First published December 1, 1996
”The Shapers, the Mechanists—those aren’t philosophies, they’re technologies made into politics."He sundogs it, escaping outward into the system, surviving, succeeding and failing, whilst changing vocations, identities, and locations over two centuries. In the process, he changes, whilst affecting the far-future human history in times of even greater change.
They had that peculiar Shaper magnetism, an acrobatic smoothness and fluidity. Yet something in the set of their shoulders, their slim, dexterous hands, kinetically displayed Constantine’s genetic heritage. They wore outlandish finery: round velvet hats, ruby earrings, and gold-laced brocade coats.Action was likewise good. Although, this was not an action-heavy novel. Dialog was terse in comparison.
”There is no war. This is evolution in action.�In addition, the writing was well-groomed. I found only one mistake. The old Timey Arbor House publishers, who published a lot of the original cyberpunk, had good editors.
They believed in what they saw in him: an older man, a bit slow, perhaps, without the fire of genius others had, but generous and with the tang of mystery. With that mystery came glamour: Doctor Abelard Malvrides [Lindsey] had set his share of trends.Typically, I eschew story’s with a lot of venue changes. Here with a novel containing the theme of change, I saw the value of them. At the end, I was surprised by both a crucial reveal, and Lindsey’s last story choice.
An adhesive coffee table held a flip-top inhaler and a rack of cassettes.A sticky horizontal surface in low-gravity habs was a brilliant idea. Although, Sterling's future had a fondness for the now defunct tape storage. I also would have thought that something better than Velcro® would have been invented? Finely, early in the story, Lindsey sports a credit card which was really no different than the chipped card in my wallet. These artifacts existed alongside more prosaic future technologies that are still nearer now than they were in the story. (Like compact tokomaks.)
They took my womb out, and they put in brain tissue. Grafts from the pleasure center, darling. I’m wired to the ass and the spine and the throat, and it’s better than being God. When I’m hot, I sweat perfume. I’m cleaner than a fresh needle, and nothing leaves my body that you can’t drink like wine or eat like candy.�
The Zaibatsu recognizes one civil right: the right to death. You may claim your right at any time, under any circumstances. All you need do is request it. […]
“Do you wish to claim your civil right?�
“No, thank you�, Lindsay said politely. “But it’s a great solace to know that the Zaibatsu government grants me this courtesy. I will remember your kindness.�