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I just reread Glasshouse, a 2006 novel by the guy who seems to have become my favorite modern SF author: Charles Stross.


The novel—which is kind of a mystery thriller—is set in the far future. The Singularity has come and gone. Earth has been obliterated into a haze of computronium, and death is rendered trivial by a good backup plan. The action takes impossibly far away, and many of the most important characters are barely recognizable as humans.

Which is a fun ride, but I definitely wasn’t expecting the belly-laugh on the very last page:

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Thanks, guys. Got it.

Tell me why I'm full of shit!