Stephen Baxter Destiny's Children Book Three: Transcendent (Gollancz, 2005)
What's it all about? Ooooooh... lots of things really, and each time a theme emerges, you settle into one idea only (fifty pages later) to realise all that has transpired thus far is but one piece of a much bigger jigsaw puzzle. We kick off in Coalescent vein with alternating chapters split between the first person narrative of a Mr. Poole and an account rooted in a different age altogether; in Coalescent this was George Poole and ancient Roman Britain, here it's George's nephew Michael - a historically pivotal figure whose every portentous move is watched by Alia, a posthuman potential Transcendent from AD 500,000.
Many of Baxter's Xeelee novels (notably Timelike Infinity) hint at the development of a future theology centred upon an idea of our universe being no more than a potential, a cosmos in an indeterminate state which will be resolved at the end of time when the "ultimate observer" looks back and delivers us all from our quantum uncertainty. Roughly speaking. This sort of ties in to Transcendent wherein sections of posthumanity are beginning to come together as a unified creature (?) of pure mind and seemingly infinite power - God, in other words. It's potentially a bit Star Trek, and the somewhat muddy narrative of this section comes perilously close to the science-fiction equivalent of prog rock, doing big just for the sake of it.
Happily, whilst all this (ultimately necessary) showing off plays out, the life of Michael Poole in 2047 keeps the book grounded. Baxter's 2047 version of Earth is vivid, disturbing, and scarily plausible - the US government has (hmmm, maybe not so plausible) become the Stewardship which has resulted in the outright banning of fossil fuels, so no-one does much in the way of travelling any more. Plus there's a lot more of the world underwater, and the sub-permafrost methane deposits (these are real by the way, so hopefully you all know about this by now) are due to burp the Earth back into the late Permian era (that was when we lost all the dimetrodons by the way - still a bit upset about that). It's compellingly grim and believable and (surprisingly, given Baxter's love of unremitting doom) oddly encouraging: Poole is the father of a system by which plans are made to refrigerate the tundra and prevent big time ecological shit-happenage - encouraging because of that maxim about predictive science-fiction getting there before actual science (see Arthur C. Clarke and communication satellites, cyberspace etc).
Anyway, Michael's environmentally fucked present and Alia's incomprehensible future begin to converge as part of the Transcendence - in witnessing
human history in its entirety (see bit above about ultimate observer), the Transcendence seems to be attempting to atone for humanity's historical sins
(including environmental ones, although it's not done quite so obviously as that may sound) and may well decide to either correct those sins (thus ensues
complex moral debates about choice) or erase its own (ie - humanity's) history entirely in one big act of penitence. Frankly, I haven't done
this(these) concept(s) much justice here, but the important point is that the novel cuts a path through seemingly nebulously pseudo-mystical territory towards
an impressive conclusion which, if philosophically bewildering (to me) in places, is one of the most impressive examples of a science-fiction writer dealing
with religion and belief that I've read. As one of the hard sci-fi bunch, this might not be quite what you'd expect of Baxter (and this book does the
usual tricks with protons, black holes, silicon based posthumans who exhale silica dioxide (sand) rather than carbon dioxide) but then again, belief is as
valid a subject as anything he's covered thus far, and he treats it with the same insight (and even reverence) as anything else he has written about. More
surprising, is that he's managed to write an environmentally themed novel which dishes up grim facts whilst concluding on an unambiguously uplifting note.
Not as great as Coalescent, but it has that same humanity which made that book so damn good, and as such this is a worthy follow up.
Edit: Only wrote that this morning and somehow it reads as though I'm channelling either A. E. van Vogt or Catherine Tate's Greek Burger woman character. Sorry. Been on holiday. Bit frazzled, I guess.
Maybe you should try reading
Brasyl first, after the horrors of which a bit a of smugness will pale in comparison.
