Important safety tip. If you're picking up Implied Spaces with the idea of reading a bit before you sleep, don't. Don't even pick it up. Because when the dawn's early light starts peeking through your window, you'll still be reading it.
Background: In physics, string and 'brane theories in their current states seem to suggest that more universes are possible, even likely, and that indeed, it might be possible to create one's own universes in the lab. Since each universe's laws of physics are established early in the universe's existence, if one is creating them, one can, if one understands the mechanisms well enough, set the laws of physics therein.
Williams took this idea and ran with it.
In the deep future, it IS not only possible, but fairly routine to create universes for one's own purposes. The result? Mini-universes abound, with single stars and gobs of real estate, each one bound by a wormhole tunnel to the Universe we know today. Result: People move into these little universes. Set up civilizations as they see fit. And since people can easily be nano-disassembled, backed up, copied, and reassembled, everyone is functionally immortal too. In the Williams' deep future, humanity wields the powers of gods.
What do we do with them? Very much the same things we do in virtual realities today. Create role playing environments, island resorts, and all the other usual decadence. And why not? Humanity's endured more and uglier wars as this technology has evolved We deserve a little fun.
Except that it's hard to think of what to do with your life, with your existence, when you can have almost anything you want, live as long as you want, create anything. Existential problems are very real for the people of the future.
Except that the technology involved is so incredibly complex that it's really wielded by planet-sized AIs under the control of humans, and all the pocket universes are utterly dependent on this arrangement.
Except that someone, something, is swiping people from the pocket universes, for purposes unknown.
Except that at least some of the AIs seem to be involved, their Asimovian limitations notwithstanding.
Except that some of those people come back, with their priorities somewhat rearranged.
Except that someone, something, somewhere is deliberately trying to upset the whole house of cards humanity has wrought in exchange for something else.
When creating a universe, it's easy to say, "I want mountains here, and a sea there, and this universe shall respect continental evolution rules normally." Which results in Implied Spaces, from which the title is taken. Spaces in the new universes which were implicitly defined instead of explicitly specified. What happens in these spaces? What lives there? Are creatures accidentally specified there? That's what Aristide, our hero, sets out to find out. And in the spaces between what was intended, he stumbles across this growing conspiracy. Maybe he was looking for it all along. Maybe it was the implied space in his own character.
Some authors blink when staring down the muzzle of Kurzwell’s Technological Singularity. I certainly do. We find ways to assert, “Not very likely. Didn’t happen. Can’t happen.” All of which may be true. Williams, by contrast, has embraced it, asserted that our limbic systems, the seats of emotion, behavior, and long term memory, define us and even post-singularity will continue to define us as human. Having done so, he proceeds to tell a fascinating tale of criminality, conspiracy, war, and “higher” purpose, with side dishes of Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Night of the Living Dead.
As is endemic to stories that explore the deep, rational ramifications of What If, the characterizations are at times a little thin, in no small part because the humans in the story are so terribly jaded by what they themselves can do, but it’s a flaw you can overlook when faced with lines like, “Do you mean to say […] that our civilization has reached the point where we’re hurling hostile universes at each other?” But this is science fiction when it’s fun. The book is remarkably light hearted overall, gleefully extrapolating the possibilities, and how a mostly-rational society handles this new crisis. Bitsy the cat, physical avatar for the supercomputer Endora, is at once computer-like and catlike, and like a cat, creeps through the plot in ways that make you suspicious of her, without actually catching her being naughty. Watch for this, particularly at the very end of the book.
Williams is also being very sneaky in implying certain parts of the story rather than telling them. All the sex scenes are implied. Bitsy/Endora’s involvement is implied. The spaces in Aristide imply several characters. It’s very subtle, and I may have to revise this part of the review once I’ve had the chance to sleep more and reread the book during the day.
The only disappointment was the motivation of the overarching villian. His actual plan seemed to fall a little short, once revealed. There was also a certain amount of “Before I kill you, Mr. Bond” exposition that wasn’t entirely convincing, so I’m docking the book one star from a perfect score.
All told, though, a fine book by Williams. Highly recommended high science fiction.