FLAT EARTH

In this debut SF novel, a farm boy in a time-frozen 1950s America where Earth is declared to be flat realizes the truth of this strange sham world and his key role in it.

Golembiewski’s series opener flirts with Philip K. Dick–style paranoia but primarily harks back to golden age pulp adventure/escapism. In a 1956-inspired contrived existence, James is a husky high school senior in the agrarian town of Eggerton. His young adult life revolves around performing harvest chores; playing baseball; going to see SF movies with his sweetheart, Carol; and anticipating college. James doesn’t initially question the school-taught dogma that Earth is flat or that a taboo, 400-foot wall west of his family’s farm marks its boundary. Approaching the wall or indulging in any anti-social behavior results in unconsciousness (aka being “switched off”). But when an odd meteor shower tears open a field, divulging a gleaming metal subsurface beneath the sod, even James has to admit something is peculiar. Locating an access doorway and settling into an awaiting automated spaceship, James is immediately zoomed to “New Atlantis,” a fabulous city-state in the hollowed-out moon. There, an enticing, gorgeous action girl named Ariel immediately plunges him into shootouts with robots and hairbreadth escapes. It seems the year really is 4040 and the dying Earth was sectioned into a multifaceted construct where the surviving populace has been genetically engineered and implanted to be docile drones. They provide food and material for the moon-dwelling “TK,” humanity’s callous, technocratic masters. James, alias “J.,” is an elite descendant of the TK. He was sent incognito to the Smallville-type community in a labyrinthine scheme to liberate and save what’s left of humankind before the TK heartlessly abandon and doom the home world. There are seemingly countless chases down corridors, innumerable trashed enemy robots, plenty of weapons fire, and lots of supporting characters introduced with such rapidity that they scarcely register (except on a scorecard) when some turn out to be devious traitors. In short, it's breezy fun writ large, with impressive scale to its imaginings but pure bubble gum in its core rather than molten iron/nickel. Readers of a certain age may remember when bubble gum traditionally came in a flat package.

An energetic opener to a comic-book–ish SF series marked by breathless action and cliffhangers.