Review: Ghosts of Tomorrow by Michael R. Fletcher

Synopsis:

The children are the future.

And someone is turning them into highly trained killing machines.

Straight out of school, Griffin, a junior Investigations agent for the North American Trade Union, is put on the case: Find and close the illegal crèches. No one expects him to succeed, Griffin least of all. Installed in a combat chassis Abdul, a depressed seventeen year old killed during the Secession Wars in Old Montreal, is assigned as Griffin’s Heavy Weapons support. Nadia, a state-sanctioned investigative reporter working the stolen children story, pushes Griffin ever deeper into the nightmare of the black market brain trade.

Deep in the La Carpio slums of Costa Rica, the scanned mind of an autistic girl runs the South American Mafia’s business interests. But she wants more. She wants freedom. And she has come to see humanity as a threat. She has an answer: Archaeidae. At fourteen, he is the deadliest assassin alive. Two children against the world.

The world is going to need some help.

Review:

There’s not one person out there who doesn’t look at that cover and go … badass.

That’s the review done … go buy the book.

…

Still here?

Okay, if you know Michael R. Fletcher’s work, you’re expecting this to be grim. Yeah, grim cyberpunk. Now go buy it.

You want more?

Sheesh, tough crowd.

Okay, let’s set the record straight ‒ that cover? Inside the chassis (the six-limbed samurai sword-wielding robot) is the brain pattern of a young teenage boy. And there lies the premise of the book. Not the chassis, but the virtual copy of the child’s mind. Raised inside a crèche, murdered, butchered would be a better word, and their mind copied while the body is thrown into the garbage ‒ if they’re lucky. This is an unflinching examination of the inhumanity of humanity in the never-ending search for profit. Greed, sold to the public as immortality, used to run the macabre machines of the future.

And what does big industry do? They sell the concept to the people, while finding the cheapest, most malleable sources for their brain-patterning ‒ children. Illegally birthed, grown, butchered and discarded. I know I repeated this, but the allegory needs hammering home. Money over life, and Fletcher revels in ramming that home. Bravo.

So, once the premise is set, the author goes about fracturing that concept. First, we have a god-like figure (in their own mind) who seeks to save everyone, and of course to do that, they need control. Control means money, influence, and dirty hands. Then we have 88, the brain-patterned mind of an autistic child, whose existence and subsequent growth sweeps across the story. And among this mix, Griffin, a newly arrived trainee (think FBI) whose first mission involves the remains of an illegal crèche that blinkers his mind ever afterwards.

This is not all guns and grim violence. There are clever concepts at play, and 88’s development is the true core of the book. Her creation of mirrors of herself as her stilted understanding flowers is crucial, especially as she grapples with her own death and her need to survive. Her evolution is the foundation around which the story swirls. There are times these sections can bog the story down. Not because of its nature, but the style, which differs from the rest of the book by necessity.

Overall, this is just what I needed. A shot of cyberpunk caffeine taken black. Be warned, it’s not all guns-blazing all the time as the cover suggests, but by hell it’s a ride.