n this book's predecessor, The Golden Age (2002), we were introduced to a world altered almost beyond comprehension, a period in mankind's far future known as the Golden Oekumene, when the majority of the actions of the inhabitants of the intricately colonized solar system are accomplished in the "mentality," or the Dreaming, interlocked spheres of virtual reality inhabited by entities both superhuman and non-human. (Among the latter, the AIs known as Sophotechs are most important.) Yet so skillful was author Wright in his presentation that before too long the vast enigmas of this era became crystal clear.
Our focus was on Phaethon of Radamanthus, once the golden boy of the world but now an outcast, stripped of his many powers and perks. He had constructed what was to be only the second interstellar vessel ever made, the Phoenix Exultant, hoping to spread humanity among the stars, and possibly to find out what happened to the first colony ship, which had established the gone-silent Second Oekumene at Cygnis X1. Frightened of Phaethon's ambitious plans, Phaethon's enemies—including perhaps spies of the Second Oekumene—conspired to render him a non-person, reduced to a mortal existence in "mere" reality. Forced to descend a space elevator on foot at the end of the first book, Phaethon finds himself at the beginning of this book transported to a colony of fellow damaged exiles on Ceylon.
Here, Phaethon experiences the nadir of his career. Under the cruel treatment of Ironjoy, the local despot, he is stripped of his sole possession, his intelligent golden armor, and left to drown. But salvation comes from an unlikely source, and Phaethon begins to battle his way back up the ladder of power. The arrival of his devoted wife, Daphne—or rather, a copy of his wife—who bears important information and various aids, further bolsters Phaethon's spirits. But just as he is on the point of attaining control once more of the Phoenix Exultant, a final, deadly barrier looms.
But perhaps the summary Wright himself at one point provides might say all this better: "A dashing young madman, dreaming to conquer the stars, becomes convinced that he is haunted by impossible enemies, breaks open his forbidden memories, astonishes the world ... and ... is exiled. Then his brave young doll-wife ... goes marching into exile herself to try to save him. ..."
New vocabularies and new assumptions
Nowadays, various frightened factions in the world of politics and science seek to place limits on human knowledge, claiming that certain topics and lines of investigation are too dangerous to pursue, and will result in the extinction of mankind—or what's worse, from their point of view, the transfiguration of humans into posthumans. Arrayed against these mental ostriches are those scientists and artists who dare to dream of posthuman futures and show us that despite the most radical changes imaginable, sentient life would continue with as much moral weight as it has always possessed. Cory Doctorow, Bruce Sterling, Greg Egan, Rudy Rucker—these are just the first names that come most quickly to mind. Add to this list of brave visionaries that of John Wright.
Wright has dared to dream of a future where all the old constraints and ways of living are undone. Phaethon and his peers command vast powers, are immortal and share unheard-of philosophies and desires. Yet they are still our recognizable heirs. We can identify with them as they respond to certain eternal verities and follow the archetypical lines of Story: the fall from a height and the subsequent re-ascent; the attempt to redeem a name; the sacrifice occasioned by love; the jealousy of rivals. All these themes are found aplenty in Wright's book, providing sheer narrative pleasure.
But the reader will have to be prepared to deal with new vocabularies, new assumptions. Wright writes in the direct line of such deliberate mystifiers as van Vogt, Charles Harness, Ian Wallace, Gene Wolfe and David Bunch. His recomplicated plotting and unrelenting neologisms demand close attention on the part of his audience. But this approach is leavened by a mannered drollery reminiscent of the works of Vance and Eddison. In fact, due to the influence of Clarke's Law about the equivalence of magic and advanced tech, much of this book reads like high fantasy. Consider, for instance, Daphne's sendoff, when she is presented with an all-powerful semi-intelligent ring, and how closely the language and mood of this section parallel the quest embarkations in many a fantasy novel. Wright dances brilliantly back and forth between this kind of romance and talk of tightly woven superstrings and mesonic disrupters. (Another thread is classic space opera: The whole contest between the Golden Oekumene and the Second Oekumene rings of nothing so much as the battle between Arisia and Boskone in Doc Smith's Lensmen series.)
This book, being set entirely in the baseline world, not the mentality, exhibits both advantages and disadvantages over its predecessor. The action is all straightforward and gripping, not as tenuous as some of the VR segments earlier. But like Phaethon, we are now excluded from the real core of the Golden Oekumene, and some of the thrill involved in those machinations is missing. But with the addition of such new characters as the Oekumene's one warrior, the omnipotent Atkins, Wright insures that we will have more than enough material to occupy us.
