It’s less science fiction, more supercaffeinated extrapolation (“…expialidocious!”) of today’s always-on lifestyle crowd, of which Cory has plenty of firsthand experience. The narrator’s dilemma is spelled out at the start: His friends have committed him to a mental hospital as part of a plot. Except there’s the nagging suspicion he may really be going nuts. As with a Vonnegut novel, it’s the gradual filling in of details over the next 300 pages by an unreliable narrator that makes it an engaging read.
