NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF A SLACKER…
Gen-X computer hacker Toby is a classic American: impulsive, irreverent, intelligent, and inventive. And, after a silly accident in 2008, he can add “inanimate” to the list—because Toby is dead.
But only for a while. Eighty years later, medical science has advanced enough to bring Toby back to life.
Welcome to Southern California, 2088. The skies are clean, but the rich-poor social gulf has widened. The biggest industries are entertainment and the prison system. Taxes have been cut — because the main source of government revenue is the confiscation of property. Many new, designer recreational drugs are legal, and many other drugs are mandatory. And while the US leads the world in cosmetic surgery, in most technologies America lags far behind…
America has changed. Toby hasn’t. And in the collision between America 2008 and America 2088, Toby brings the system to its knees—just by being his freedom loving, problem solving self.
Read now and join Toby in Tomorrowville for love, sex, politics, and cyberspace—plus the occasional turbocharged wheelchair and robotic rat.
NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF A SLACKER…
Gen-X computer hacker Toby is a classic American: impulsive, irreverent, intelligent, and inventive. And, after a silly accident in 2008, he can add “inanimate” to the list—because Toby is dead.
But only for a while. Eighty years later, medical science has advanced enough to bring Toby back to life.
Welcome to Southern California, 2088. The skies are clean, but the rich-poor social gulf has widened. The biggest industries are entertainment and the prison system. Taxes have been cut — because the main source of government revenue is the confiscation of property. Many new, designer recreational drugs are legal, and many other drugs are mandatory. And while the US leads the world in cosmetic surgery, in most technologies America lags far behind…
America has changed. Toby hasn’t. And in the collision between America 2008 and America 2088, Toby brings the system to its knees—just by being his freedom loving, problem solving self.
Read now and join Toby in Tomorrowville for love, sex, politics, and cyberspace—plus the occasional turbocharged wheelchair and robotic rat.
In the dream, he fell through the air until he hit the asphalt with bone-shattering impact. A moment of blindness, a glimpse of a shiny black shoe, and then he died.
That’s ridiculous, part of him insisted. You don’t die in dreams, you always wake up first. So wake up…
…and then he’d be off again, tumbling from the balcony, slamming into the asphalt…
Finally, a light, a blurry focus, a face leaning over his. “Blink slowly if you can hear me.”
Toby blinked, long and slow.
The—Nurse? Counselor?—whatever she was, beamed. “Excellent. I’m Karen Carruthers, and I’m here to get you oriented.” Her hair was parted just above one ear and combed sideways over her head in a huge swoop. It was a style he had seen before only on balding men, but her hair was full and puffed up. It must be a look.
Toby realized he had a huge tube down his throat, taped in place around his lips, and he started to panic. He was on a ventilator. That could only mean full-body paralysis. He tried to talk around the tube and found his lips would barely move.
“Now you just stay calm. I know things are strange. We gave you some mood enhancers a bit ago, but I’m afraid you went and surprised us all, and woke up just a little early!” She talked like the host of a children’s show.
He was definitely in some kind of hospital bed, but the place was awesomely high-tech. The bed frame was surmounted by a huge panel of readouts and displays, like a canopy bed designed by Intel.
Ms. Carruthers said, “Now, if we feel up to it, I’d like to teach you a way of talking to us for the next couple of days. It’ll only be just a couple of days, and then we’ll be all better again.”
She reached up and tapped a button on the canopy above, and a flat screen descended on a long arm and positioned itself before his face. The screen brightened, and big bright letters showed the alphabet and the numbers zero through nine.
My God, he thought, I’ve died and gone to first grade.
“Now what I want you to do is spell something. Let’s spell the word ‘yes.’ Now what you do is look at the letter, focus real hard, just squinch up your eyes, and then relax and go to the next letter…”
Toby saw the glittery red of twin ruby lasers at the top of the panel and stared. I don’t believe it. It had to be Eye-Convergence Monitoring, the focusing device they’d been working on for RatBot. Somebody beat us to it, and we didn’t even hear about it…
He moved his eyes. Y—squinch—E—squinch—S—squinch.
She glanced at a smaller screen by her elbow. “Why, you just figured that out right away, didn’t you?”
He kept going. I—I-N-V-E-N-T-E-D—T-H-I-S.
“Did you! Well, isn’t that nice.” She brushed back her hair. Her eye shadow was bizarre, orange to the right fading to blue on the left, but identical on both eyes rather than symmetrical. “Are we feeling any better yet?”
He was. In fact, he was beginning to feel positively cheery. Y-E-S.
“Good. Now, we don’t have a huge amount of experience with this, but what research we have shows that the clients always do best if we just get right to the point. You had an accident. Do you remember it?”
M-A-Y-B-E.
“Oh good. Often the trauma… Well, I have some very good news for you. The injuries you suffered were extensive at the time, but they can all be repaired! Isn’t that wonderful?” She studied him. “I can see you don’t believe me. But in just one moment you will, because the other big surprise is that it’s now the year twenty-eighty-eight!”
Toby would have laughed if he had control of any motor functions. He felt fine, just fine. He spelled, W-H-H-A-T.
“You do remember that you had an account with South Coast Cryogenics, don’t you?”
That? It was more of a joke than anything, a voluntary matched deduction from his paycheck at a firm where the owner was a confirmed loony. If this was a practical joke, it was just too funny. If it was the truth…well, that was too funny, too. Y-E-S.
“You were lucky. You were declared dead, but your bracelet got you rushed to South Coast. Now most people who were frozen back then were…well, they’re frozen. But a few lucky ones happened to have consumed cryopreservatives. Do you remember what you ate and drank that day?”
He thought. E-G-G-S—T-O-A-S-T—O-J. He considered a little longer. G-I-N—T-O-N-I-C.
She actually clapped her hands. “There it is, then: juniper berries. What a lucky young man you are! We can’t bring many back, you know. But with the advances in medicine since your day, we can not only bring you back, but restore your spinal cord. In fact, that’s what’s happening right now—and the reason you’re being kept on artificial respiration for a while is so you don’t start moving around while the nerves regenerate.”
G-R-E-A-T.
Her attitude cranked down a notch or two. “Now, I’m afraid there is a minor formality. I’m going to certify you as mentally stable and sane. But as soon as you are certified mentally stable, federal regulations require that you be notified of certain things. It’s really your rights that are being protected.” She stood. “Mr. Metcalf! Mr. Simmons can see you now.” She gave Toby a smile, and said, “I’ll be back to check on you after you’ve had your meeting with Mr. Metcalf.”
Mr. Metcalf took the nurse’s place at the bedside. He wore a green jacket with huge lapels. His hair was cut very short and seemed to be greased down, but his little Hitler-style mustache was unruly, like the tobacco from a cigarette butt disintegrating in the sink. Metcalf squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, not looking at Toby. “At present you are uninsured and indigent. With no current source of income, the United States of America has paid for your hospitalization.” He cleared his throat again. “The people of this country have undertaken a significant financial burden on your behalf. This will have to be repaid. The amount of your debt and accrued hospital expenses as of your official revival time of”—he consulted his clipboard—“11:26 a.m. this morning, is four million nine hundred ninety-three thousand six hundred eighty-four dollars and eighteen cents. Of course, this is simply an estimate, and additional charges are likely to accrue during your period of recovery, and neither the government of the United States of America nor this hospital warrant the accuracy of this information, nor does a discrepancy between this information and any actual accrual owed to any party diminish your debt obligation.”
Toby was high, cruising on whatever they had given him. Mood enhancers. Whoa. Mood orgasms, more like. Four million something-or-another indeed. He spelled, I-N-L-A—N-O—I-N-F-L-A-T-I-O-M—N.
Metcalf read it off the screen at his elbow and said, “On the contrary. You died in, what, 2003? Net inflation since your day has been essentially nil. You missed The Great Deflation. No, this is a substantial debt, Mr. Simmons, a very substantial debt. Normally, when a debt of this size is due from an unemployed person, the only remedy is a work-prison; but in exceptional cases such as yours, certain allowances can be made by the court. You should understand that your continued freedom is a privilege, not a right, and is revocable at the pleasure of the court.”
Inside, Toby swelled with laughter, but all he could do was spell, N-O—D-E-B-T-O-R-S—P-R-I-S-O-M-S—I-N—U-S-A.
Metcalf stood. “There, my friend, you are wrong. There are no penalties for owing monies to private parties, more’s the pity, but that isn’t the case here. Keep in mind that it is the US Treasury that has paid for your revival.”
He held a sheaf of papers in front of Toby’s face, and Toby scanned the top of the page stupidly. “No,” Metcalf said, “down here.” He tapped his finger at the bottom edge:
Due and Payable in Full Upon Receipt
Internal Revenue Service
United States Department of the Treasury.
While he was spying on his half-naked neighbour, computer hacker and programmer Toby Simmons fell off his balcony to his death. Or his almost death, because although Toby had suffered catastrophic injuries to his spine, he had also purchased a chryo-freezing policy. When he wakes up in a high tech hospital bed, he first thinks that some friends are playing a joke on him - but it's not long before he realises he really was cryogenically frozen and is now in 2088. And, massively in debt to the government. If he wants to stay out of a debtors prison, he'll need to find an employer who will guarantee his debt. For Toby, waking up in 2088 isn't just a bit of a mind shock; it's a complete and utter culture shock to the system. The socio-political landscape is completely skewed to what he knew - and he soon learns that all freedoms come at a cost. He may be intrigued by the sheer scope of the technological advances, and even spot a few bits of tech that he had more than a hand in inventing - but he's sickened by the seeming decline of liberty. Not only does the government dictate what medications one has to take, but it fines people for being above their ideal BMI, and tracks the movement of most of the population - barring the elite few who have been granted an exempt status. Not only that, but sea levels have risen, changing the geography of the LA Toby knew, and even the climate seems somewhat different.
It's hard to pinpoint exactly what this book was about. On the face of it, it's a fun Sci-Fi, exploring the idea of cryogenics and technical advances; but when you start to digest the novel, it's about corruption, choices and freedoms - or lack thereof. In a way, it's terrifying, as one character points out that the world is as it is in 2088 because of the decisions that were implemented in the late 1900's and early 2000's. Could it really be that because of one law passed in 2002 that the government now can issue mandatory drugs? That everyone has to have yearly blood tests to test for potential changes in brain chemistry?
As the book reaches its climax, Toby causes massive problems for the government, embarrasses them and finds himself stuck in an untenable situation. A metaphor? Quite possibly. An excellent read? Oh, yes. Definitely.
S. A