Book Review | Waking Hell by Al Robertson

Leila Fenech is dead. And so is her brother Dieter. But what's really pissing her off is how he sold his afterlife as part of an insurance scam and left her to pick up the pieces. She wants him back so she can kick his backside from here to the Kuiper Belt.

Station is humanity's last outpost. But this battle-scarred asteroid isn't just for the living. It's also where the dead live on as fetches: digital memories and scraps of personality gathered together and given life. Of a sort.

Leila won't stop searching Station until she's found her brother's fetch—but the sinister Pressure Men are stalking her every move. Clearly Dieter's got himself mixed up in something a whole lot darker than just some scam.

Digging deeper, Leila discovers there's far more than her brother's afterlife at stake. Could it be that humanity's last outpost is on the brink of disaster? Is it too late for even the dead to save it?

***

On the back of one of the best debuts in recent memory, Al Robertson rounds up a brand new cast of characters for his second successive stop at Station. Absent "the dynamic duo" (p.173) that was Jack and Hugo—respectively "an accountant of the future [and] a psychotic virtual ventriloquist's dummy," in the words of the award-nominated author—Waking Hell isn't as compelling as Crashing Heaven, but between its excellently embellished setting and a narrative that boasts more momentum than most, there are moments when it comes close.

As of the outset, much has changed on Station, the battle-scarred asteroid where what's left of humanity lives under the purview of a pantheon of corporate gods:

Two and a half years before [...] Jack Forster, Hugo Fist and Andrea Hui had worked with the Totality to release the dead from semi-sentient slavery. But the Rebirth was just the start of a longer coming of age. It was one thing for ten thousand weaveselves to be reborn as fully self-aware continuations of ended lives—quite another for them to come to terms with that new start, both as individuals and as a group, and understand what to do with it. When Leila stepped out of the sea and into her new, post-mortal life, she became part of that conversation. (p.23)

The hero at the heart of Waking Hell has had to hoe a hard road in the years since her resurrection as a fetch. Initially, those like Leila Fenech were seen as sub-human, to be used and routinely abused by the living before being disposed of, like so much deleted data. The events of Crashing Heaven changed that; now, fetches finally have rights.

Still, there's resistance, including an organisation of individuals who damn near decimated the dead in an act of technological terrorism that'll stay with Leila to her last day. Luckily for her, she had her brother Dieter—a hacker with a particular fascination for the past—to lean on when the fanatics attacked:

When the Blood and Flesh plague shattered the deep structures of her memory, completely disordering her sense of herself, Dieter had helped her rebuild. He'd taken her out of the Coffin Drives' convalescence unit and back to his weavespace. Then he'd opened up his own memories of her life to her. They became a template, guiding her as she remade the structures of her past. He'd helped her heal when even the Fetch Counsellor had given up on her. 

Now he needed her just as much as she'd needed him. And she could only watch. (p.14)

She could only watch as he dies, infected from the inside out by an infernal artefact that feels like it fell straight out of Hellraiser—and by design, I dare say. Early on, at least, Waking Hell has a lot in common with a horror novel: it's all unsettling silences and gruesome goings-on, monsters and murders, and beyond these, thar be bees! Bees and some bloody ugly bugs. But for better or for worse, Robertson reverses gears too soon for these potentially interesting elements to have a dramatic impact on the narrative. What Waking Hell is is a solid science fiction sequel, despite the departure of its first act.

And its second, in a sense. This section is concerned with revenge, because while death is no longer the end in this milieu, Leila learns that for Dieter it will be. Essentially, he's been swindled into signing away the rights to his resurrection, ostensibly so that his sister will be looked after. And financially speaking, she is. Whoever the devil Dieter dealt with is, he's as good as his word. But rather than using the huge sum of money she inherits to live a right nice afterlife, Leila spends it in search of said devil's identity.

Then, with the help of a few friends—first and foremost a fraud investigator and an amnesiac janitor who aren't nearly as dreary as they seem—she sets out to bring the fight to the being that bastardised her beloved brother. Little does Leila realise that the being already has an army... an army it's planning to aim straight at Station. And as one of her new comrades says, "Of course you've got to look out for the people you love. [...] But if the whole of the rest of the world is in danger, you might have to start thinking a bit bigger." (p.147)

A bit bigger is actually a decent way of describing Waking Hell as a whole. It doesn't have the personality of Crashing Heaven—although its characters are a relatively rambunctious bunch, only the Caretaker entertains in the way Hugo Fist did, and I'm afraid he's far from front and centre—but it has scope and scale to spare. Nothing less than the fate of our race is at stake, and happily, there's more to humanity than the blasted asteroid Robertson's first novel focused on.

Leila's race to recover her brother—and, in so doing, save the day—gives us a window into this well-widened world, from the repellent reality underlying the weird and wonderful weavespaces people have created on Station to the scorched surface of the Earth humanity abandoned. And at the same time as casting the core conflict as increasingly crucial, the explosive expansion of Waking Hell's setting gives its narrative a frisson of the frenetic.

When I reviewed Crashing Heaven two years or so ago, I remarked that I hadn't a clue what the second of the Station books would look like. Given the devastating denouement of Robertson's dizzying debut, I knew it was destined to be different—but what those differences would be, I could only wait and see. That was enough to excite me. From here, however, it's much easier to conceive of an act three... and that's oddly disappointing.

An exploration of identity filtered through a revenge fantasy with a humble helping of horror, Waking Hell is fearsome, fast moving and fun—but it's also fairly straightforward, flat where the last book was full, and frankly much less memorable without Hugo Fist, who I really, really missed.

***

Waking Hell

by Al Robertson

UK Publication: October 2016, Gollancz

US Publication: April 2017, Gollancz

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Recommended and Related Reading

Book Review | Crashing Heaven by Al Robertson

With Earth abandoned, humanity resides on Station, an industrialised asteroid run by the sentient corporations of the Pantheon. Under their leadership a war has been raging against the Totality—ex-Pantheon AIs gone rogue.

With the war over, Jack Forster and his sidekick Hugo Fist, a virtual ventriloquist's dummy tied to Jack's mind and created to destroy the Totality, have returned home.

Labelled a traitor for surrendering to the Totality, all Jack wants is to clear his name but when he discovers two old friends have died under suspicious circumstances he also wants answers. Soon he and Fist are embroiled in a conspiracy that threatens not only their future but all of humanity's. But with Fist's software licence about to expire, taking Jack's life with it, can they bring down the real traitors before their time runs out?

***

Seriously satisfying cyberpunk action meets thoughtful moral philosophy with a dash of detective noir and a supersized side of striking science in Crashing Heaven—the year's best debut to date, and make no mistake.

A pivotal part of its deceptively accessible premise is that the tale occurs in a world where gods (of a sort) walk among men. As the well-read will be aware, this is not a new notion; on the contrary, there have been any number of tremendous takes on the topic, even if we restrict our recollection to iterations of late—highlights like Robert Jackson Bennett's brilliantly built City of Stairs and N. K. Jemisin's hot-under-the-collar Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. So what makes this one worth writing home about? Why, the presence of a puppet, if you please!

Folks, meet Hugo Fist: a virtual ventriloquist's dummy designed by the pawns of the Pantheon—an assortment of incarnate corporate gods who represent the culmination of capitalism—to lay waste to the Totality: the rogue AIs that have taken over most of the solar system. Most of the solar system... but not all—not Station, the industrialised asteroid humanity has called home since poor planet Earth gasped its last.

Video Game Review | Deus Ex: Human Revolution, dev. Eidos-Montreal

It is the year 2027: fully quarter of a century before the events of Deus Ex.

Biomechanical augmentations are not yet commonplace, or very affordable in the eyes of the everyman, but the bubble around them is blowing up. Everyone wants augs; everyone except those folks who think them against God, or the natural evolution of the human animal.

Competition in the design, manufacture and distribution of these technologies is fierce, but Sarif Industries are at the forefront of their field, and one of their researchers - Dr. Megan Reed - thinks she may have just discovered the game-changer: a double-helix delivery vehicle for the bleeding edge biotech that should circumvent the need for the anti-rejection drugs all augs as yet rely upon, to stop their bodies from booting out these strange foreign objects which allow their privileged users to jump higher, run faster and think more quickly, among a many other talents.

But just as Megan is about to announce her discovery, Sarif Industries' headquarters in Detroit is attacked by a small army of heavily-augmented supersoldiers. Security Chief Adam Jensen, Megan's ex-boyfriend, does everything in his power to turn back this violent incursion, but man is no match for machine - or rather man/machine - and Megan, along with all those scientists involved in this project which could revolutionise an entire race, are either killed or kidnapped.

Adam only survives the attack by the skin of his teeth, and when he awakens, six months later, the skin of his teeth is pretty much all that's left of him... because to save his life - not to mention make him better able to see to these supersoldiers - his employers have refitted him with all the augmentations under the sun. Adam has hardly settled back into his role at Sarif when he picks up the trail of the shady organisation responsible for the death of so many, so close to him, and the destruction of so much, of such vital importance.

And now he can fight fire with fire...

So begins Deus Ex: Human Revolution, at last a worthy and worthwhile successor to a game that in its era completely revolutionised the way we play. Eidos-Montreal's long-gestating sequel cannot aspire towards that impossible crown again, but it embraces both those core tenets of the original - player choice, first and foremost, but also a noirish near-future, and an onion-skin, discoverable (or not) narrative rich with morality and conspiracy and intrigue - as well as those innumerable game-changers that the medium has for its part embraced in the decade since Deus Ex's release.

Invariably what will strike you first, upon booting up Human Revolution, are its incredible looks. And, after years of browns and greys and muted yellows on a good day, my oh my are they a sight for sore eyes! Truly, the design imperative behind this game - an neo-noir empire of black and gold and beautiful, fuscian blues - is so unique in the dreary follow-the-leader industry of today as to make this world, and its dazzling lights and dizzying heights, its glittering, gossamer sheen, come alive in mere moments. It will take you about thirty hours to beat Human Revolution, plus or minus perhaps five depending on how far down the rabbit hole you fall, and even then, you will not want to leave.

I didn't.

I started a second playthrough.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Looks, as we all know, are only skin-deep, and what, you might be wondering, is the ghost in this machine? Well, I bet you've already met - at least I hope for your sake you have - for it is in every meaningful sense the spirit of the original Deus Ex: a game you can play pretty much any way you please - whether by stealthing or shooting or hacking or simply exploring your way into any number of high-stakes scenarios, and if you're lucky out of them again - for either as little or as long as you please, thanks to an unrestricted save system and a selection of activities which cater to those with mere minutes or many hours on their hands.

Do not misunderstand me: this is also a game which very much rewards a certain level of dedication, and though the most casual gamers may flounder somewhat, those players who have perhaps drifted from the industry in the last ten years will find returning, by way of Human Revolution, a lot like riding a bike.

That is to say, a gold-leafed bike with onyx trim, twelve light but durable wheels, a multi-functional heads-up display complete with cruise control, temperature regulation, satellite guidance, impenetrable security systems and its very own onboard library. But for all that, it's still easy riding... unless you're going to go and jack the difficulty up, which--- well. Don't make the same mistake I did. Human Revolution can be as hard as it can be easy; exactly, then, as all games would be in an ideal world.

These days, player choice is a back-of-the-box bullet point every game developer likes to blow their trumpet about, but precious few games actually realise this idea, or reward such a spread of play-styles as thoroughly as Human Revolution. For instance I specced my Adam Jensen out like Mr Metal Gear Solid himself, Solid Snake, investing my currency and experience points, of which there are no shortage, into Praxis kits to upgrade my stealth augs for better radar, silent running, undetectable takedowns, and later on, an invisibility cloak that quickly became my go-to tech in tricky situations. When I had to shoot dudes, I shot them with a stun gun rather than the pistol I carried throughout, and trusty tranquilizer darts rather than an assault rifle, then dragged all the bodies off into some shadowy corner of the maps... till there were stacks of them, I tell you, stacks of them!

I tend to think, having played this way, that I saw the best of Human Revolution, and two achievements in the Xbox 360 version - for never setting off an alarm, or killing a single person - were fair impetus to do so. In the end, alas, I got neither: in part because there came a point in the endgame where a choice I'd made in the approach to it came back to bite me, and I had to kill to live - alarming several guards, needless to say - but also because I wanted to see what else this game could have been, if I'd played it another way.

And as a shooter, Human Revolution is competent enough; the action RPG has come a very long way. It's no Modern Warfare, of course, nor even a Mass Effect 2 in that regard, but its mechanics are more satisfying than say Alpha Protocol's, and a great deal improved over those you may remember from Fallout 3, to call out a couple of Human Revolution's contemporaries.

This single choice - to kill or not to kill, that is the question - has huge gameplay ramifications, as have the others you will make in the course of the meaty single-player campaign of Human Revolution... and there are myriad other decisions in the offing. Take a bribe, or dob in the doer? Plant drugs in this one guy's apartment to get him arrested, or heave him of his balcony? Risk your life to save a certain supporting character, or worry about your own well-being first?

Your particular choices do not impact the narrative of Human Revolution so much as the experience. Whether you shoot to kill or only to stun... whether you save or sacrifice... you can still hack all the computers you please to read notes and emails that expand upon the story, browse all the e-books scattered throughout the environments, and listen to henchmen chatting about the pros and cons of one dastardly plan or another. Ultimately, how the story ends - in one of four ways - is the result of a single decision you will make before the final cut-scene. Which I'll admit I found a little disappointing.

Nevertheless, Human Revolution is a vision so grand, and a game so understanding and forgiving in its design and execution that I do not find it difficult to forgive the slightness of its lastmost moments. It is still easier to overlook what is some pretty terrible voice acting, and the fact that this belated but brilliantly distinct sequel plays fast and loose with the notion of a steady frame rate -- though I understand the PC version is rather more reasonable in that respect. These are minor missteps at worst, and at its best, in its looks and its essential, surprisingly faithful feel, Deux Ex: Human Revolution is, if not a full-blown revolution in its own right, then a pliable and riotously rewarding experience which could very well lead to one.

Easily game of the year material.