I have been on Neal Stephenson cool down. After the phenomenal Cryptonomicon and Anathema, followed by the lengthy but meaty Baroque Cycle I was riding high. Then things changed. Reamde was a decent story hidden in a navel (resulting in gazing, natch), and Seveneves, while having some positives, didn’t quite have the soul of those earlier novels. I was put off the Neal Stephenson radar and ignored the novels he released after. For reasons unknown, I decided to check the radar in 2021, and picked up his near-future cli-fi novel, Termination Shock, to see how he’s pinging. Seems loudly and clearly…
Like Snow Crash, The Diamond Age, and several other Stephenson novels, Termination Shock is experienced through the viewpoint of several main characters (and features martial arts). The first is queen of the Netherlands, a down-to-earth woman who prefers to be called Saskia. Arriving unannounced in Houston to tour a Texas billionaire’s geo-engineering facility, she discovers it would have been better to phone ahead. Local wildlife disrupting her airplane’s landing, Saskia finds herself in debt to a local invasive species bounty hunter named Rufus. Rufus’s demons in the closet incidentally expunged by the queen’s arrival, he goes on to find gameful employment in his area of expertise. Press secretary to the queen is Wilhelm. His heritage rooted in Indo-China, it goes on to play a role in how things pan out after the meeting with the billionaire. And last, and most mysterious, is Lax. A Sikh born in Canada, he goes to India to find his roots, and in the process becomes involved in the Himalayan border dispute with China. That proves to be the least of his worries as the geo-engineering project goes on to have global, political repercussions.
Termination Shock is technically set in the near-future. But 99% of the book feels like present day. This includes the ongoing socio-political degradation of the US, the permeation of social media and evolution of related technology, and, perhaps more from the novel’s standpoint, the ongoing environmental challenges and disparity of views toward solving them. The latter is where the 1% (+/-) of “speculative” content derives from, and forms the techno-optimist aspect of the novel.
But the techno-optimism is not blind. Where much public discussion on environmental remediation revolves around stopping certain human activities and behaviors, Termination Shock proposes starting some. I will not spoil how Stephenson proposes this be done, save to say it’s through an Elon Musk-ish Texas billionaire who sits in the same room as all of us, and rather than wait for the global gears of carbon control to take effect, decides to speed things up with a little global-scale geo-engineering. Trouble is, not everyone experiences the same benefits, resulting in a more realistic view to the technology Stephenson speculates upon.
The setting of Termination Shock deserves brief mention. The first half of the novel set almost entirely in Texas, the reader is treated to a near-future view to the Lone Star state, a view wherein global temperatures and waters have only risen since present day. Stephenson portraying the situation as being the result of both nature and human practice, no sides are chosen, resulting in a more realistic scene than the blue vs red, or other culture war talking points which dominate media comments sections.
For the space nerds out there, “termination shock” does not refer to astronomy. It should be taken literally—the surprise when something abruptly ends. In the novel’s case, there are a few minor scenes and events which qualify as “endings”—and given their realism should be genuinely concerning for the future of humanity (e.g. the ability to generate perfectly realistic internet content that is fake - the Queen saying 'Kiss my ass!' that is in every way the Queen except reality). But it’s the geo-engineering technology presented in the story which occupies the lion’s share of meaning in the book’s title. Truly game-changing, Stephenson doesn’t take sides whether it being good or evil. Interestingly, he posits it as inevitable. The UN may have outlawed human cloning, but does that stop anybody from believing we will someday clone a human—if it hasn’t been done already. (Don’t worry, no conspiracies here.) Stephenson seems to say the same: it’s only a matter of time before an Elon Musk or Richard Branson decides to take matters into their own hands and initiate change. Is that worse than what we have?
Looking back to the intro, the question is: is Termination Shock enough to get any reader who may have fallen off the Stephenson radar back on? I think the answer is: there is a good chance. The narrative is significantly tighter and more contained than Reamde or Seveneves, and offers a degree of “seriousness” that may have been lacking in other, recent novels. Featured regularly are the sharp, effective lines and phrases that are signature Stephenson. But the more significant aspect of the novel is the gauntlet it throws down to environmental activism. The gauntlet says: indications are that the actions taken thus far have not re-oriented the human ship in any game-changing, needle-moving fashion that would mediate environmental challenges. Therefore, is it time to start looking at the development of technology as a solution rather than contribution to the problem? Termination Shock gives impetus to that conversation.
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