"Smoke and Mirrors: Four Scenes from the Post-Utopian Future" by Michael Swanwick
"O One" by Chris Roberson
"Clouds and Cold Fires" by Paul Di Filippo
"New Model Computer" by Adam Roberts
"Conurbation 2473" by Stephen Baxter
"The Memory Palace" by Matthew Sturges
"Dobcheck, Lost in the Funhouse" by Mike Resnick & Kay Kenyon
"Rogue Farm" by Charles Stross
"Swiftwater" by Terry McGarry
"The Crystal Method" by S.M. Stirling
"Reformation" by Alex Irvine
"Singletons in Love" by Paul Melko
"I Feed the Machine" by Del Stone Jr.
"Reality Check" by David Brin
"Frek in the Grulloo Woods" by Rudy Rucker
"All the News, All the Time, From Everywhere" by Dave Hutchinson
"The Swastika Bomb" by John Meaney
"No Solace for the Soul in Digitopia" by John Grant

I'm rarely attracted to theme anthologies, since their narrowness of scope can often lead to a certain amount of repetition. Editor Lou Anders' Live Without a Net, however, not only boasts an impressive lineup of genre talent, but has a central idea broad enough to serve more as a guiding principle than a straight-jacket. The anthology challenges its authors to imagine science fictional scenarios where there is no cybertechnology, and to dream up strange new alternatives. It's an intriguing theme, and the result is a colorful anthology full of interesting original work, some of it excellent.

Michael Swanwick opens the proceedings with "Smoke and Mirrors: Four Tales of the Post-Utopian Future," a quartet of linked short-shorts that take place in the universe of his popular series featuring Surplus, a genetically tweaked dog-man con-artist living in a decidedly weird biofuture. A couple years ago this series began with "The Dog Said Bow-Wow," a story I found diverting and creative, although I was a bit surprised by its overwhelming critical acclaim. In this one, Surplus and his companion Darger travel through Germany to scam an avaricious "brain baron" named Klawz von Chemiker. Each short installment effectively examines the anthology's premise, acknowledging the absence of telecommunications and positing this unique world's alternatives. Inventive, nicely crafted, fun stuff, liable to leave fans of the series wanting more.

By contrast more thoughtful and serious, Chris Roberson's "O One" shifts the book's focus from communications to computation. The story takes place in an alternate Chinese empire, where Tsui, Chief Computator of the emperor's mathematical think tank, is summoned to a demonstration of an English inventor's calculator prototype. When Tsui's math skills are put to the test against this clunky gadget of metal and wood, it appears that a new age in computation may be dawning. The pace is a bit slow to start, but the prose is sure-handed and the story engages straight through to a dark (if perhaps a bit expected) climax.

Responding to the anthology premise with characteristic verve, Paul Di Filippo provides "Clouds and Cold Fires," which takes place on a depopulated Earth years after the majority of its inhabitants have left for new worlds. The humans of this future, however, performed some impressive house-cleaning before their departure, leaving the planet newly Edenized and under the protection of a number of intelligent animal stewards, among them the main character, Pertinax. Pertinax and a number of his fellow stewards answer the call to duty when a settlement of dissident humans, who stubbornly stayed behind when the bulk of humanity left, threaten the new utopian perfection of the Earth. The story features a breezy, cartoonish adventure plot, but really this one is all about its setting, including its dominating central concept–and its internet alternative–an impressively depicted "atmospheric supercomputer" to which all human knowledge has been uploaded, creating a sort of omnipotent, self-aware, Earth-wide weather system. Typically charming, entertaining, and imaginative stuff from this author.

"New Model Computer" by Adam Roberts takes us to a faraway world populated entirely by machine intelligences, one of whom attempts to solve a perplexing problem by creating a new kind of "organic computer." His efforts have surprising results (of course). A brief tale, its scenario is intriguingly presented and dryly humorous, using a common enough SF premise but craftily inverting it.

Stephen Baxter's "Conurbation 2473" seems less directly tied to the anthology's theme than other stories in the volume, its cyberspace-free environment more a side effect of the plot than a motor for it. The story begins on Earth as the rule of an alien race known as the Qax is coming to an end; sequestered in vast conurbations, the humans–such as protagonist Rala–have been living a safe, regulated existence in a society rigidly structured by the Qax. Rala's life is greatly disrupted, however, when the aliens' departure leads to the rise of human factions, vying for power in a new post-alien world. This grim future is well depicted: an Earth rendered largely uninhabitable by the Qax and liable to get worse thanks to the short-sightedness of the humans seeking power. The narrative flows nicely, but the characters and specific actions seem secondary to the overall situation, giving this the feel of a turning point episode in a larger sequence, and therefore not entirely complete. Still, it's otherwise solid work.

Matthew Sturges provides a new take on virtual reality in "The Memory Palace," a story that combines elements of contemporary fantasy, romance, alternate history, and horror. In late 1940's Great Britain, Maryanne Spenser works for the developer of a new machine, the Etheric Amplification Module, a technology that enables people to enter a kind of "spiritual" VR realm. Unlike computer-based VR, however, the ether is shaped and altered by the emotions and thoughts of its corporeal visitors, making it unpredictable–which leads to unexpected consequences for Maryanne. A nice variation on the VR premise, I enjoyed its period feel and thought it was mostly well written, although I'm not sure the "rules" of the idea were worked out entirely well. (It seems a bit dodgy, for example, that steak should be more difficult to conjure than a cow; and there are other examples of this kind of "iffiness.") Also on the downside, the story verges on melodrama, ultimately shooting for a sort of Rosemary's Baby ending that didn't quite hit the mark for me. Still, it's not bad, with a rich concept that could do with more exploring. (Oddly, I'm most interested in a throwaway line about how the ether was used for intelligence-gathering during World War II…)

The post-internet future of "Dobcheck, Lost in the Funhouse" is decidedly nostalgic for its cyberpast. This collaboration by Mike Resnick and Kay Kenyon involves a lonely old man seeking connection in a world where internet terrorism has permanently disabled the web. In an attempt to replace it, humans have tricked themselves out as their own individual, biologically based "somatic computers." This modification leads to a weird new condition, kind of a reverse Alzheimer's–a condition brought on by surpassing a knowledge threshold. Dobcheck fears he may be approaching this state–"entering the funhouse" in the story's vernacular–but is he, or is something else happening? The futurism here is a bit wonky, not that the story strives all that much for realism; it's mostly SF-as-metaphor, the lack of a net symbolizing lack of connection and camaraderie in this fearful new world. As such it's reasonably effective, but it also feels rather market-driven–certain passages seem directly geared toward justifying its inclusion in the anthology–and it left many of its more interesting aspects unexplored.

Charles Stross chimes in with the hilarious romp "Rogue Farm," which features a pair of off-grid farmers in a depopulated future Britain whose livelihood is jeopardized by a runaway bio-organism, a sort of mutated posthuman collective that sets up on their land. The ultimate plot resolution is pretty easy to see coming, but the journey itself is unpredictable and inventive, full of amusing dialogue and slick turns of phrase. Stross' work usually impresses me mainly for its density of ideas, but this one's best strength is its humor.

Another worldwide information crash supplies the netless future of "Swiftwater" by Terry McGarry, a story that uses a gritty thriller plot and some traditional sci-fi flare to examine the anthology premise. This time the Crash was caused by an accident during one of this far future's hyperspace missions, a world cataclysm that figures prominently in the plight of John Jasper. In this post-net world, Jasper's ESP powers help him to serve as something of a human database for other people's fading memories. His abduction at the story's outset obviously has something to do with one of his stored memories, but which one, and how does it tie into the current state of things? While the combination of old school and contemporary SF elements does give it a bit of a muddled feel, McGarry efficiently unravels the mystery for an engaging skiffy adventure.

After so much futuristic SF, reading the opening pages of "The Crystal Method" by S.M. Stirling is like slamming into a brick wall. The first section serves up a sword and sorcery dragon-slaying quest, featuring a standard warrior hero named Ka-Rak and all the generic trappings you might expect. Then gears shift drastically, to a futuristic subterranean city where a frantic courier named Ken Rackam, transporting top secret encoded information in his bloodstream, struggles to elude a posse of clones. How these two tales connect is the story's core conceit, which isn't much of a shocker even if it's presented in surprise-ending fashion. The writing never grabbed me in this one; it's pretty much straight action, without much depth.

In "Reformation," Alex Irvine doesn't eliminate the net but uses it to examine religious issues. The story depicts a near, alternate future in which the internet's anarchic nature is attacked by various religious interests who wish to prevent its corrupting influences; a teenager, his beliefs confused by the death of his parents, enacts his own grand scheme, painting himself as a new prophet. It's well written and intriguing, but I came away from this one unsure of its ultimate intent; as a piece it lacks the absolute certainty of the believers who populate it. (Perhaps as a comment on the grayness of the issue?) It's interesting stuff, but I don't think I quite got this one.

"Singletons in Love" is a richly imagined future by Paul Melko that posits multiple alternatives to the internet. This depopulated Earth came about as the result of a vast human project which ultimately resulted in an enormous human hivemind known as the Community, which left the world behind years ago. Many of those that remain are genetically modified to be parts of collectives, gestalt groups which function as single entities even as their components exhibit individual traits. There are, however, "singletons" left on Earth, and while most of them live in enclaves, one–Marcus Leto, a former Community component who missed the Exodus–lives by himself. The story involves his impact on a collective of six that is training as a starship crew, and in particular its figurehead member, Meda. Melko does a good job steering clear of the scenario's most obvious plot alternative, and along the way he creates a vivid future full of hinted-at history that could easily do with more fleshing out. Ambitious material, well handled.

"I Feed the Machine" by Del Stone, Jr. is pretty much pure metaphor, telling the story of a vast, nameless "company" wherein individuals more or less function as components of the greater organization. The machine of the title is in fact something of a human calculator, his mathematical talents controlled by the company to serve their ends; the protagonist is one of his servers, a cog in the mechanical scheme of his society, his life transformed when the machine begins to deviate from the program. Although the style of writing felt a bit choppy at times, overall I found this an enjoyable tale with contemporary relevance, the bland, generic feel of its setting effectively examining the ugliness of repressive religious and cultural forces, its plot showing how complicity with the system only exacerbates the problem.

Up next is "Reality Check" by David Brin, a nifty little short-short reprinted from Nature magazine, which posits a fairly basic solution to the Fermi Paradox. How it does so is clever and effective, in the process managing to tackle some big ideas. It makes for a quick, compelling read.

Rudy Rucker provides a teaser segment from his forthcoming novel in "Frek in the Grulloo Woods." The story follows a "nubby" named Frek who escapes from a repressive situation at home only to experience an adventure among members of a weird posthuman race known as the Grulloos. Even without the editorial disclaimer, this one would have been easy to spot as an excerpt; plot is at a mininum and it doesn't really succeed on its own. But it does offer an intriguing glimpse of a gonzo, all-biological future and is told in Rucker's inimitably loopy style, so it's likely to connect with his fans.

In "All the News, All the Time, From Everywhere," Dave Hutchinson presents an enjoyable future-fantasy scenario but unfortunately doesn't go much farther than the depiction of it. Technology has been replaced by magic, in this future; a race of elves has emerged from hiding and is imposing a harsh rule on a humankind now relegated to a low-tech existence. Since there is no longer telecommunications to connect the world, information is accumulated by soothsaying–in particular for this tale, slaughtering animals and reading their entrails–which, thanks to Elvish rule and the rise of magic, is actually an effective method of newsgathering. Of course, this means the paper with the most bountiful supply of livestock will garner the highest circulation, a situation central to the story action involving a reporter who gets caught between rival editors. Ultimately, though, plot takes a decided backseat to premise in this one. Its world is well drawn, its prose is clean, and as a backdrop it has interesting possibilities, but as a story it never quite gels.

The volume's penultimate tale is its longest, and my favorite. A broad canvas, alternate past spy thriller, "The Swastika Bomb" by John Meaney depicts an off-kilter version of World War II in which the biological sciences dominate, a fact that drastically alters the complexion of the war in this inventive timeline. The plot framework involves an Allied plan to infiltrate a British secret agent–none other than Ian Fleming–into occupied Poland, in order to investigate a Nazi war research facility. With all the flair and derring-do of a Bond adventure, the story whips along enjoyably, but what's truly striking is the colorful, inventive backdrop, biotechnological differences painting a whole new picture of the war. Bombers have been replaced by dragons and hydras, secure areas are patroled by surveilling "scanbats," a whole new level of Nazi scientific atrocity is on display, and the logistics of war–and of espionage tradecraft, for that matter–are given new slants thanks to biological innovation. It very much reads like the product of an author looking to layer a hyperactively creative coat of SF paint over an historical era which is gripping enough in itself; Meaney, clearly in full command of his craft, pulls it off quite impressively.

Finally, "No Solace for the Soul in Digitopia" by John Grant is a sexually charged multiple worlds tale which begins with the protagonist bouncing from one reality to another, each time encountering a beautiful female soul-mate with whom he engages in raw, unbridled (and graphically depicted) sex. His meanderings through the polycosmos, however, occasionally take him to "digitopias"–realities like ours, where computers and televisions and VR have limited the capacity for love of the people trapped in such places. His digitopia visit in this story clearly stands in for our reality, and as a critique of the modern wired culture it's decidedly unforgiving. Certainly the message is worthwhile, pointing out how our world's dependence on screen-gazing can lead to discontent–inhibitions, voyeuristic distance, an artificial ugliness. But it's all couched in a subtext that technology is solely responsible for lack of sexual connection, depicted here as perfect and glorious in every reality but our own. This makes the message feel overly simplistic; since we see nothing of the non-digital realities other than frantic coupling, it seems to suggest that if it weren't for technology, the world would be rife with wonderful primal passion, which probably isn't the author's true point. Anyway, it's an ambitious story with a heartfelt slant, even if it didn't quite ring true. In summary, Live Without a Net delivers the goods. It's at once thought-provoking, very innovative, and–easily lost in all the analysis, but perhaps its most important strength–it provides good, enjoyable, smooth reading throughout.

Christopher East is a freelance writer-reviewer who lives in Iowa. His most recent fiction publications include stories in Tales of the Unanticipated and Say…what time is it? He also contributes to a group blog at www.futurismic.com.