The Last American

In a world increasingly immersed in AI and technological augmentation, we might do well to consider how the not-too-distant future may unfold. From the book's back cover:

"They took the world over right before our eyes, using tools that promised to make things better for all of us. We watched it happen. We helped them." -- from my Grandfather's first book, The Last American.

Forty three minutes ago, as I was scavenging in what I thought was an abandoned West Ginny mine, a destroyer drone sealed the entrance for no apparent reason. Leaving me to contemplate the end of it all.

Not far from where I sit, there is a caricature of bones on the ground. Someone's sick joke, or a homage to the end of life itself. Or perhaps a warning. And then, deeper in the cavern, I hear muffled moans. A faint squeal. A small girl--no, a thirteen year-old woman--emerges. She seems rude at first, but we are fast becoming friends. She is lovely. And special. And soon I learn why she is here, hiding from the privilege she was born into.

Am I now to fulfill the prophecy my parents laid upon my head? Do I dare fall into that made-up story in service of a girl I just met? A girl I love right from the start?

The journey to Sanctuary cuts across the wilds of West Ginny and through more than a few places where chippers will be watching for whatever reward their masters have levied upon this girl's head. And then through the unnamed revolution that my brother and parents fight. I have longed for adventure, but hoped to nibble at its edges before sinking my teeth full in. But I have taken her under my charge and made her my sister. I have made a promise.

And promises must be kept