Centuries after an environmental catastrophe, a young archivist is shocked to discover that she and the others in her tightly regimented underground community aren’t the only humans left on the planet.
To Rook, ArHK, or Archives of Human Knowledge, has always been the whole world—until the day that words appear on her computer screen that she didn’t type: “My name is Gage. Who are u?” This experience is just as thrilling to Gage, who, as the newest member of a team exploring the ruins of Washington, D.C., in search of a half-remembered, long-lost ancestral Ship of Knowledge, discovers a live screen deep in a subbasement after falling down an elevator shaft. In alternating chapters Kilbourne maps out two uncomplicated societies—one of hunter-gatherer surface dwellers seeking out artifacts from the long-ago Storm Ages, the other designed to be a self-sustaining refuge deliberately cut off from the Outside centuries ago by its autocratic, hereditary Governors. Unfortunately, the author focuses primarily on developing her scenario over attention to the plotlines—to the detriment of twists, suspense, or even, at times, coherence, particularly toward the end where they collapse into a confusing mess of coincidences and disconnected incidents, finishing on a weak cliffhanger that reads more like a simple lack of resolution. The cast members, apparently all White, include one supporting character who may be on the spectrum.
A provocative premise in need of further thought and polish.
(Post-apocalyptic fiction. 12-15)