A near-future controlled by rampant corporations is not too hard to envision, but the dystopian prognostication of The Age of Conglomerates manages to be deeply unsatisfying. The economy has crashed dramatically, leaving the wealthy political party called “the Conglomerates” in de facto control of the government. Rather than enforce laissez-faire industry regulation and start lucrative wars to fill the coffers of their businesses the Conglomerates decide to become involved in social services, presumably for their own financial gain. Three government programs are described in this novel: creation of designer babies through genetic manipulation, mandatory removal of the elderly to national care facilities, and disposal of problem children in the subway system. Each of these programs has huge logical flaws, making the entire dystopian construct of this novel difficult to believe.
The protagonist, Christine, works as the head of a department that organizes the creation of designer children through genetic manipulation. Christine’s own sister is a designer baby, and Christine remembers that her mother was never pregnant before bringing this clearly genetically related child home from the hospital. This leads me to believe the government is not only manipulating the genomes of embryos, but is somehow growing them in vitro, which would be both massively expensive and technologically unlikely, given that no other major technological improvements are introduced in the novel. The scientific description of Christine’s work is almost pure gibberish (I happen to be a geneticist, unfortunately for the author), further enhancing the general aura of implausibility. However this is the most believable of the social programs instituted by the Conglomerates, as we can understand both the financial interest (selling the genetic services) and the motivation of the citizenry (to provide the best possible for their children).
Christine’s grandparents have been rounded up and sent to Arizona as part of the government’s second social program, the federalized care of the elderly (now known gracelessly as “Coots”). Persons over 80 are divested of their remaining property, transported south, and interred in government-run nursing homes. The very expensive medical care of the elderly could not possibly be offset by the value of their property, making this an odd choice for a government consumed by financial interest. Christine’s younger sister has become a victim of the third social program, in which the government removes problem children for a fee, and then dumps them in the subway system. These discarded children are known, unsurprisingly, as the “Dyscards”. In order to believe in the existence of these two programs, we would have to believe that the majority of the people of the future have become willing to sell out their parent’s, grandparent’s, and children’s lives for a very modest financial gain. The only explanation provided for this rip in the social fabric is that “everyone became hard in the age of the Conglomerates”. That is just not good enough.
Against this unpromising backdrop lies the story of the novel. The story is told is stilted language and compromised of unlikely coincidences (both Christine and her grandfather independently stumble upon antiquated computer equipment hooked into a still-functioning dial-up internet system), unnecessary action, and a smattering of the bizarre (a major plot device involves the transport of a dozen ill newborns in a hand-built subway car driven by a blind man). After all the main characters have been introduced it is abundantly clear what the ending will be, making the intervening action seem unnecessary. Having completed the book, I am not entirely sure what the message is meant to be. Dystopian novels are supposed to show us possible evils in human systems, that we may avoid them. All I see here is a confusion of amorphous fears and a pat ending.