Humanity has become extinct, but civilization and galactic colonization continues to hum along, thanks to a variety of highly sentient androids and other artificial intelligence, which have amusingly oriented themselves into a highly rigid class conscious society. The narrator of our story happens to be an “escort” android (a/k/a a sexbot), manufactured in the form of its creators. As a result, the android is obsolete, both as to form and function.

This novel is not the easiest to read. I frequently found myself rereading paragraphs in an effort to process the information therein. This is partly due to the fact that it is extremely descriptive, especially as it related to science and engineering, and partly due to the fact that the protagonist and many of the other characters wear the memory chip of “sister” or “brother” replicants, making much of the action confusing as it relates to point of view and actual identification of many of the actors. Starting at about page 150, I became somewhat lost and confused and can’t swear that I unraveled all the details by the time the novel ended.

There is some outstanding hard science fiction contained in this novel (orbital space tethers, migrating Mercurial cities on rail, fascinating details of energy sources, space and interstellar travel), though perhaps not presented in the best form for easy consumption. Of particular interest are the travel sequences, of increasing length and complexity (Venus to Mercury to Mars to a Jovian moon to a dwarf planetoid outside the Kuiper belt and finally to a nearby star system) and the methods of propulsion, length of travel and the implications thereof.

There are some excellent and witty sections in this book, for example, robots debating the philosophy of evolution vs. intelligent design as related to artificial intelligence. Space ships, hotels and other usually inanimate objects are not only sentient, but sexual creatures.

Much of the novel revolves around the concept of “pink goo”, a/k/a human DNA/RNA, the discovery of which could result in reintroduction of the human species with thought provoking implications. All in all, an excellent novel from the viewpoint of hard science fiction, however, at times a chore to read due to the excessively confusing plot lines.
Five stars for the science, two stars for the overly confusing story. ( )

Another of this year's Hugo nominees I read in the same month (along with Zoë's Tale) and again wasn't impressed. Story didn't grip, characters neither. Well executed, some neat ideas but... ( )

If you've been reading Charles Stross you'll notice that many of the usual tendencies are in operation in this story. The put-upon female protagonist; check. The plot based on a covert scam; check. Much musing on the post-human future; check.

This time around we have a world without humans (having stupidly offed ourselves) and our artificial creations have picked up right where we left off with our arrogance and, dare I say it, our inhumanity. As those lines of servants (can you say 'house slaves'?) who were closest to humanity in our last days have managed to insert themselves at the top of the social food chain over 90% of the AI population. Mankind having failed to do their creations the favor of collective manumission before shuffling off this mortal coil.

Thus we find our heroine Freya (a sex worker in a world without human clients) early on the run from what looks like a chance encounter with an overbearing "aristo." She thus falls into a world of private covert operations, where the great prize is the recreation of biological life forms, and where the dominant species is the red herring.

It's in this scenario that Stross makes heavy use of one of my less-favorite tropisms; that of the downloaded personality. However, I find it deployed in a more efficient fashion then in "Accelerando" or "Glasshouse," as the characters in this novel are very dependent on the knowledge gleaned from their parallel selves, and there are no guarantees that even their other selves are trustworthy. In a middle section that is rather roundabout, this keeps the suspense up until the countdown to the big bang at the climax (ahem) and onto a satisfactory conclusion.

As to Stross' observation that this is his homage to late-period Heinlein, this is certainly the case, down to our heroine who goes on and on and on in a chatty verging on blathering fashion. There's a good reason for this in the end but there are points in the novel where the data dumps are very long, even for Stross. On the other hand, just because Stross respects Heinlein, it doesn't mean that he isn't above satirizing the prophet (there's a shock), and there's much in this book that is absurdly funny, and could have been played up with even more absurdity had Stross chosen to do so. Never say that the man doesn't respect his characters, even when he puts them through the wringer. ( )

Freya's a sexbot activated after all of humanity has died, so she can't fulfill her true calling. The posthuman romp crosses the solar system with meditations on the frailty of man, slavery and the relationship of man to machine, love as submission, and the impossibility of space travel.

All of that is embedded in a fine intrigue thriller, but the failure here is that the conceit keeps poking through, like threads unwinding from a cheap suit. You can ignore the robot dreaming, the sleep, the gasoline cocktails, etc. Ignoring them doesn't make them go away and if you pull on them at all the whole thing unravels.

It's not Charlie's best, but it's fun and good. ( )

Set in a future when humanity is extinct, intelligent robots carry on the task of spreading civilisation, having colonised the solar system and sent ships to nearby stars. These are not soulless Asimovian robots as their minds are copies of archetypal personalities, created by conditioning using human experiences (some extremely unpleasant). This conditioning also inculcates basic emotions and needs: for example, robots can enjoy a drink or two (though not of alcohol) and can experience the pleasures of sex when they 'link up'.

For control purposes, humans made serving them the deepest desire of a robot. Now humans are gone, 'aristo' robots use this servitude capacity to enslave other robots. Their greatest fear is of 'pink goo' - animal cells of any kind that could, in theory, be used to rebuild one of the lost human 'Creators'. A human, could, simply by their presence, control any and all robots using their inbuilt servitude routines.

The novel follows Freya, one of a defunct concubine archetype, cloned from the original called Rhea, who gets involved in something illegal that involves smuggling pink goo. Freya is given the 'soul chip' (memories) of another of her archetype, Juliette, and starts to be influenced by Juliette's experiences. The abilities to swap soul chips (and thus identities) and to blank parts of soul ships complicates the plot no end. Starting on Venus, the action takes Freya to Mercury, then Mars, Callisto and finally to 'Heinleingrad', on distant Eris, as aristo factions like the Black Talon, and robot archetypes, especially one modelled on the Jeeves character, struggle over the ultimate prize...

Ironies abound. Humans, as their creators, are like gods to robots. Robot society is as venal and despotic as that of their creators. In their restless journeying (space travel for robots is uncomfortable and slow but usually not fatal) they are driven by the expansionist dreams of their creators, as robots have no purpose of their own. Despite 50 years of AI research, 'intelligent' robots are still as much a figment of the imagination as warp drive. While on the surface this novel is a romp built from retreaded components from earlier writers, underneath it raises issues about self-hood, freedom and the purpose of life, none of which robots really have. ( )