If you were to mix a trans-humanist neo-liberal dystopia with an insane amount of funniness the end result would be this book.
Despite the horrible place humanity is at in the year 2090, the main character has to work a lot to buy food by working with a VR headset to a state of constant war where all sorts of stuff goes down.
Because I cannot even begin to describe how good the world-building, the characters, the fights, the hero's journey, the mystery about the chapter that isn't in the book, the silly AIs and the parallels between chess and military strategies are, I have decided to compile some of my favourite funny scenes.
Say as many words starting with the letter “S” as you can in thirty seconds.
“Begin,” she said as a counter started.
“Um,” I said. “Snake . . . sunflower . . .” I paused a second, thinking. “Soap . . .” I tried to come up with more words, but at that moment my mind went blank. Nothing came to me. For the remaining twenty-eight seconds I sat silently, staring at the woman.
The city had zero percent unemployment, a negligible crime rate, exponential GDP, and a Twitch following that was comparable, according to one analyst, to that of “any heavy-chested female gamer.”
“Hey StayC, how long was Gandhi’s hunger strike?”
“Twenty minutes,” she said.
“What?” I shrieked.
“Oh wait, hold on.” she said. “That’s how long it lasted in an old movie.”
“Okay, Bambi,” I said, watching him work, “what stupid reason were you sent to the RMZ for?”
“Selling meth,” he said.
“Ah,” I said.
“But, like, just a little bit of meth,” he said. “Not a lot.”
"Mrs. Mitchell was shocked to hear that her husband had come home early. She told Jacques to hide inside the Turk. But John Mitchell had exciting news for his wife—the Chinese Museum in Baltimore had purchased the Turk. The museum officials showed up and took the Turk away, placing it inside the museum exhibit. Later that night, the museum burned down when a nearby building caught fire. Witnesses on the street below swore they could hear cries of pain.”
“So Jacques stayed in the Turk,” I said. “Was he stuck or something?”
“No one knows, but that’s not the point of this story,” CareE said. “The point here is that you are now thinking about a sexy French man burning inside an 18th-century mechanical robot instead of wallowing in your own self-pity. Don’t you feel better?”
“I saw a schizophrenic guy pee on a robot today.”
“Right. Well, that’s part of the reason I brought you here.”
I was lost again.
Was terrorist even the right word to use for them? I couldn’t be working for a terrorist while simultaneously protecting against terrorists, could I? Or maybe because I was on the good side, [Name] was called something else, like Mischief Maker.
“So you admit to killing her? Oh, man! That’s fucked up, guy!”
“What? No, wait. That’s not what I meant!”
The second drone opened fire, destroying his opponent, resulting in an electoral victory for the new governor of Mississippi.
"Everything I loved was gone. I know what I’m asking you is a lot, and I know that some of us might not make it through. Fracker is a stone cold killer and he won’t be easy to take down. But if you believe in preserving the good of humanity, then you will do the right thing and—”
BAAM! The rifle kicked backwards and spat out the shell casing. I watched through the scope waiting until the slug finally traveled into Fracker’s lower back, splitting him in half.