I wrote Tinkerian, which means I’m the person who looked at the vast, elegant laws of the universe and said, “Cool. What if we just… scooted those over a bit so the plot can fit?”
So before we begin: to physicists, scientists, and anyone who has ever loved the scientific method even briefly. I am deeply sorry. I committed sins I didn’t so much “apply” science as wave it vaguely in the air like a damp towel and hope the universe respected my audacity.
Also, and this is the part where you may want to sit down, I’m an engineer in my day job. Yes. A real one. With responsibilities. Which is alarming for everyone involved. After reading this book and noticing how cheerfully I paper over physics, I completely understand if you choose to avoid any facilities I’ve designed for your own personal safety.
Right. The book.
Tinkerian is a sci-fi adventure where:
• Zuzu is the last of her kind, an engineer with a ship held together by optimism, scavenged parts, and denial. She is carrying enough grief to qualify as a small moon, but she refuses to unpack it because she’s busy being chased.
• Cosmo is her robotic companion; loyal, deadpan, and strategically decisive in a way that suggests he was trained by a falling refrigerator. He will save your life, then calmly inform you that your survival odds remain “statistically challenged.”
• There’s a mystery large enough to be dangerous and a galaxy full of factions who would prefer Zuzu stop poking at reality with a spanner.
The tone is light-hearted, it’s fast, and then, when you’re comfortable, it develops thriller tension and starts tightening bolts.
Do I recommend it?
Yes. Obviously. I wrote it. I have to live with that.
But also: if you like a protagonist who uses sarcasm the way other people use oxygen, you’ll probably have a very good time.