We forged the godsânow theyâre fighting back. Will one young man's skill and ingenuity be enough to turn the tides of war?
When teen hacker Jaffrey Pewitt discovers a dangerous secret in the Deep Net, he has three days to choose what he'll do about the artificial intelligence threat. Hiding his discovery would make him a traitor, but revealing it would earn him a life sentence. Doing nothing isn't an option.
Whatever his choice, the AI battle is coming to Jaffrey's doorstep to test just who and how much heâll betray for a chance at saving his post-pandemic world.
The tech-magic of Tron and suspense of Enderâs Game meet the exciting new frontiers of How to Train Your Dragon in this explosive, hopeful, and action-packed YA cyberpunk standalone.
Science fiction that asks the age-old question, "What does it mean to be human?" on every riveting page.
"It reads like a video game." âNancy Farmer, author of The House of the Scorpion
We forged the godsânow theyâre fighting back. Will one young man's skill and ingenuity be enough to turn the tides of war?
When teen hacker Jaffrey Pewitt discovers a dangerous secret in the Deep Net, he has three days to choose what he'll do about the artificial intelligence threat. Hiding his discovery would make him a traitor, but revealing it would earn him a life sentence. Doing nothing isn't an option.
Whatever his choice, the AI battle is coming to Jaffrey's doorstep to test just who and how much heâll betray for a chance at saving his post-pandemic world.
The tech-magic of Tron and suspense of Enderâs Game meet the exciting new frontiers of How to Train Your Dragon in this explosive, hopeful, and action-packed YA cyberpunk standalone.
Science fiction that asks the age-old question, "What does it mean to be human?" on every riveting page.
"It reads like a video game." âNancy Farmer, author of The House of the Scorpion
Everyone had told him not to do it. Although everyone really meant his family because in Jaffreyâs world, that was everyone. They were the only ones who knew his secret, who knew what he had to lose. Theyâd each come to him aloneâhaltingly, like his father had, or hands wringing like his mother, or, in little Astridâs case, tearfully.
Donât put in for Watcher.
Ben had been the worst. âGrubs donât get assignments, little bro. Lyze me, just try for something easy, hey?â Jaffrey had punched his older brother in the shoulder, a friendly blow but one hard enough to remind Ben he was no munchie. This was his life, no matter how short that life might be. And heâd do what he wanted with it. No matter the consequences. The blow had gotten him a wrestling match, a wrenched shoulder, and cut rations for a week.
But none of it mattered. Because nowâ
Out of the corner of his eye: movement. Jaffrey didnât hesitate. Itâs what made him such a good player and a better captain.
Mid-bolt between obstacles, he twisted. Gasps went up from the crowd gathered on the overdeck surrounding the bridge to watch the last game of the season. Enemy fire streamed past Jaffreyâs absorption uniform, missing him by inches as he hurled himself sideways in a spinning fall.
His unchecked rotation brought him face to face with the Dragon, who was still shooting, but surprise had made the kidâs last few shots go wide.
Jaffrey dropped to the floor and fired.
He grinned. With the direct hit, the other boyâs wristbands, designed to activate during play mode, went gray. The Dragonâs bodysuit froze him in place, from neck to toes, despite his agonized expression, and the red light at the tip of his gun faded out.
Damn. Wish he wouldâve dropped the gun before frying.
But Jaffrey didnât have time for wishful thinking. He barely had time to lunge behind an absorption pillar and flatten himself against it before he heard the zing of stunner ray and boots charging past in pursuit ofâhe edged out to lookâSarah Henschied.
He grimaced. She was one of his best, but ten minutes into overtime, she was flagging. They were running his team down, having learned from past games to keep them separated and on the defense.
Jaffrey tried to quell his breathing.
Tried to forget about the announcement that morning, about the fact that he had, against all odds, actually done it. Dared to put in for it. Dared to hope.
His gaze drew downward, as if magnetized to the ground. Down, through the bridge floor, which was made of the same substance as the walls, a portmanteau called glaphene: diamond-hard plexiglass, fully transparent, with an atom-thick coating of conductive graphene. Down, down, down.
Five hundred feet below lay the grub camps, a green patchwork quilt of farmland. Black shapes moved like ants among the fields.
Youâre one of them, his fear whispered. You belong down there.
No, I donât, he shot back. Iâm top of my class. I belong here.
Youâre a grub. A Proset.
But I got in. Iâm a Watcher shadow.
Youâre nothing.
Shut up! This is my life!
However long that is.
Jaffrey tightened his grip on the stunner gun, forcing his gaze away from the camps. Steeling his mind from its merciless reminders.
The game. Thatâs what mattered now. They were down to four players, and twelve Dragons still prowled the bridge.
He caught a gleam of red on white among the crowd of spectators and knew what was riding on his performance. He mightâve landed a Watcherâs slot during this morningâs assignment ceremony. But they could take it away at any time. And they would in a heartbeat if they knew what he was.
Jaffrey wouldnât give them the excuse.
âSituation,â he whisper-rasped into the com embedded in his left wristband. He toggled to listening mode, letting his twin earpieces momentarily shut out the cacophony of the game. The clicks of stunner guns, the stomp of boots, and the echoing cries of battle dissolved into the belabored breathing of his teammates.
One of his mates managed to activate their camera, which gave him visuals on the court from the playerâs vantage. He tapped the control on his wristband to open the vid as a holo issuing vertically from the band. Sarah Henschied was far left and downfield from him. Her player icon was moving bridge center, though, and fast, which meant she hadnât shaken her pursuit.
âHenschied, safety corridor, wait for orders,â he murmured, his voice clipped and strained with tension.
âCopy!â she squeaked, breathless.
âStreep, whatâs your position?â
âCap, heads up!â
Jaffrey swiveled. Travis Weaver was in the air, making an impressive leap over a stream of rebounding stunner ray only to hurl his gun at Jaffrey as three enemy shots connected with his suit almost simultaneously, freezing him in place.
Travisâs gun, still active, landed with a crash several yards toward bridge center.
Jaffrey dove for it; another Dragon was doing the same. They collided head-on, and then Jaffrey was grappling with the older girl, who was kicking and clawing and writhing beneath him, trying to get off a shot.
She was a better wrestler. A hooked leg, a twist that made his hip flexor scream, then the back of his head hit the deck with a crack. Dreg it, this was it. Straddling him, she bared her teeth, hefting her gun.
And a ray of stunner light hit her square between the eyes.
She froze, fury hot on her face.
Jaffrey pulled himself out from under her, grabbing Travisâs gun, and spun to find Parker Streep zigzagging through obstacles, herding Dragons away from Jaffrey, whose position near bridge center made him vulnerable, open to fire on all sides but one.
Around him, opaque holograph obstacles hung suspended in space, calibrated to either bounce or absorb stunner ray. Jaffrey counted five Dragons in pursuit of Parker before he lost sight. A questioning ping of his coms confirmed that Sarah had made it to the safety corridor, which lay near the bridge entrance to the overdeck.
So, ten to three. Not good odds.
Jaffrey scrambled back into a more protected position, panting and wracking his brain for an idea. It was no surprise to anyone except his family that the two best stunner tag co-captains in all of Area history had both earned Watcher pre-assignments. Heâd proven himself worthy. But if he lost this game? Or worse, if he simply hid out and let Parker take the credit for saving him in that last play...
No, he couldnât just hide. He had to do something.
Through the transparent walls of the bridge, Jaffrey had a good view of the overdeck. Black rubber ran along a vast track that ringed the Area and connected the various towers of his small, isolated world. The bridge stretched out into the center of the giant cylinder of sterilized air that made up Area 7. Fifty floors up, the bridge was held in place by tensioned buttresses. Far above, the holo sun shone down with a heatless golden light.
Jaffrey, crouched between three reflection pillars, was nothing but a fly trapped and waiting to be crushed.
He tapped his coms. âStreep? How many guns do you have?â
A ping in his earpiece. Then, gasping: âTwo.â
âSarah?â Jaffrey pressed.
âAnkleâs tweaked,â came Sarahâs voice. âBut I got two. Time for the ace?â
âYou read my mind.â A thrill of excitement coursed through Jaffreyâs circuitry. He stood. âLetâs do this.â
***
The crowds crushing the overdeck had thickened. Trainees dismissed for the half-day pressed splayed fingers to the bridgeâs graphene-coated plexiglass walls. The glaphene fogged with their bated breaths. Their excited shouts had dwindled to murmuring. Then silence.
And then Sarah started running.
Jaffrey could hear when she bolted from the safety corridor. Not because he could hear her running but because the crowds started to scream her name.
 Jaffreyâs pulse shot up.
Seconds later, Parker made it to his side, his face sweaty and fierce with excitement. âSarahâs faster than Iâll ever be, even with a bum ankle. Impressive, that girl.â
âReady for this?â asked Jaffrey quietly. âWe wonât win. Not ten to three.â
âTen to two when she fries.â
âI saw the Area Chief.â
âHeâs here?â gulped Parker.
âIncoming,â came Sarahâs growl over the coms.
They locked eyes. Jaffreyâs brown ones and Parkerâs fiery red ones. âOut with a bang,â said Parker, teeth gritted. âNo better day to die.â
The words sent a jolt through Jaffreyâs core. His hand crawled up to the back of his neck where a thin film of prosthetic skin obscured his Proset ink. A black strand of DNA had been stamped on him at birth. His hair was getting long. That and the sweat from the game had made the skin patch peel up a bit.
Parkerâs eyes narrowed, but Sarahâs shout into their earpiecesââCompany in five, fourââmade them both wince.
They bumped fists.
ââthree, two, one!â
Then, firing ceaselessly, Jaffrey and Parker dove into the open, back to back, arms outstretched, counting on the Dragonsâ survival instinct to give them the edge they needed, that little bit of extra time, those half seconds of surprise.
And hoping Sarah had managed to lure them all into the open before they took her out.
The crowd, shocked into holding its breath, now issued a deafening roar.
It was a complete gamble.
It was over in moments.
Imagine, if you will, a world where energy collapse, climate change, and a deadly virus have ravaged the Earth. Sound familiar? It's actually the setting for River K. Scott's gripping, thought-provoking, and upbeat YA science fiction novel Shadow Status. The book follows main character Jaffrey Pewitt--a teenager who's harboring both a jeopardizing secret about his identity and a risky discovery regarding artificial intelligence.
In Jaffrey's world, a majority of humanity was killed by a pandemic, and the remaining survivors live in fourteen sterile areas. Class status is literally stratified by biology--the disease's genetic impact on the body. "Resets" are humans who have a latent version of the virus; they can do what they want and generally live normal lives, as long as they avoid pathogens. In "Prosets," the disease is active: eventually, the virus will be triggered, meaning they won't survive into adulthood. These humans are relegated to dangerous grunt work in labor camps, with more restricted food rations and a lack of adequate medical care.
Jaffrey is in training to be a Watcher, someone who protects the World Net from malware. In this cyberpunk novel, malware are sentient AI, and Watchers fight them by grafting, or uploading their human neural activity as computer code. In other words, virtual reality. Humanity gets energy from the Net, and the world is relying on non-conscious AI to help find a cure for the virus, so a Watcher's job is incredibly important. When Jaffrey uncovers life-changing information about AI on the Net, he'll have to decide what to do. Has he been taught lies about AI, or is it true that they're bugs who can't be trusted?
Shadow Status is an exciting and wonderfully written dystopian tale with plenty of well-rounded and memorable characters, like Astrid (Jaffrey's precocious younger sister) and Parker (Jaffrey's snarky albino best friend). The characters are constantly confronting essential moral and ethical questions: should sentient AI have rights, or be considered alive? Should people who will have a shorter quantity of life be forced to have an awful quality of life? How much can authority be trusted--especially a corrupt and repressive one? Sometimes I felt like the complicated exposition in this book happened a little too quickly, and a few of the story's many narrative threads were dropped a bit early, but overall author Scott does an excellent job keeping the plot constantly moving forward at a pace that's both entertaining and informative. Plus, this book is overflowing with something vital that we all desperately need right now: hope.