Humanity conquered war and disease, and now we're just waiting for the final generation of Baby Boomers to die off. The catch? The original Boomers, like me, are still alive and kicking, wearing lumpy gym gear at 163 years old and still refusing to give up their entitlements. This is kinda autobiographical (aren't they all?). Yeah, I was once a mid-level government goof-off when the gigs were a bit thin, but in this near-future novel I'm on the run from Hobart to Hawaii, dodging workaholics and inter-generational karma.
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