Books

A first-time, self-published science-fiction novel by a seasoned newspaper reporter who always wanted to write a book but never got around to it — until now. The story is set some hundreds of years in the future. It begins when Weaver Weaver wakes in the morning and ends when he goes to bed at night: the day after his 100th birthday, celebrated the night before with lots of merriment and homebrew. Like every other citizen of Earth, Weaver has been on a 75-year regimen of ProLong, a drug that slows aging by two-thirds — so he’s a centenarian with the body of a 50-year-old.

By law, Weaver can no longer take ProLong. On his hundredth-birthday-plus-one he’ll begin to age normally, though he’ll probably live another 50 years. It’s a day for reflection, for walking about, for getting reacquainted with his first wife — who was at his party the night before, and who… well, you have to read the book. Some of what was in the author’s mind when he started writing more than 12 years ago is starting to happen: body parts produced with printers, income-inequality issues. Some hasn’t happened yet — like rock-eating bacteria that tunnel beneath the earth, and zero-gravity bolts to hold up the tunnel roofs. And why are there so many tunnels, anyway? Another reason to read the book.

It’s a 60,000-word quick read of about 180 pages (“about” because it has no page numbers… or chapters… and the cover is sideways). It proposes a very peaceful Earth with prosperity and good health for all — but relationships are still as tricky as ever. Some people have more than others, yet everybody has more than they need and nobody has too much. Many live for sport, and competitors can die in some of the games — but in those cases, death is not permanent. Eventually, though, death comes to every one of Earth’s citizens. Which is as it should be.