EFFACEMENT

In this SF thriller, brain chips are supposed to keep people healthy and connected to society—but they may be killing some of them.

In a post-privacy United States, virtually everyone has a Vitasync neurochip installed at the base of their brain. These technological marvels connect people to apps such as MyPharm, which treats small health problems, and a vast digital overlay of visual information. The chips record one’s experiences into a “lifelog,” which is illegal to tamper with and makes one a citizen who can hold a job and open a bank account. One day, Cole Westbay wakes to find his apartment trashed and his chip stolen. Without his connection, he feels like a “junkie coming down from a bad trip.” Cole works for BioNarratus, the company that’s cornered the neurochip market. He’s also the protégé of Lounis Belrose, one of the world’s most powerful people. Cole had been researching why several senators, judges, and other key figures have been meeting early ends and how this may be connected to Vitasync’s latest software patch. After Cole asks a neighbor to call the police for him, he’s arrested for the crime of “effacement,” or having an offline lifelog. When Lounis bails him out of jail—instead of Cole’s girlfriend, Tesla Carrick, who also works for BioNarratus—Cole starts to suspect that something shady is going on. At a pawn shop, he hunts for Augmented Reality glasses to reconnect to the world, and he later meets Eva Spangler, an attorney who reveals to him an aspect of society that he’d never dreamed possible.

Hawkes superbly extrapolates what our technology-dependent and pandemic-stricken world might be like a dozen years from now. Despite the illegality of effacement, a large segment of the population is shown to live off the grid, divested from modernity by economics or circumstance; Cole is so ensconced in a busy realm of digital engagement that he has no idea these people even exist. Yet the author also shows that the protagonist does have a heart, although he’s given it to Tesla, a narcissist who’s wary of commitment. Eva, who drives sports cars, is skilled with a gun, and has a killer smile, becomes Cole’s—and the reader’s—guide through Control, Alt, Delete, a secret group that cherishes privacy. Hawkes occasionally embraces a hard-boiled tone in his prose, as in the line, “Being in the cell was a bit like being in a casino, with no clocks and no change in the lighting. But he had more to lose than a bet, and no one was bringing him cocktails.” The author mentions a “Great Pandemic” in connection with cruise-ship horrors, but Hawke’s descriptions of people’s dwindling social skills are more intriguing; many use “quints,” for example—digital projections that have replaced physical handshakes as greetings. Although the assassin hunting Cole, Phillip Chestnut, seems robotic, other characters show notable agency. A somewhat-winding journey on snowmobiles and through a courtroom brings readers to an enjoyably unexpected finale.

A thriller with capable heroes that portrays a future that feels scarily near.