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Dead but Dreaming of Electric Sheep

Paul Tremblay

Sci-Fi
Horror
Satire

At a glance

🤖
Grapples with AI
🖨
Creative typography
🗓
Near-future setting
📺
Black Mirror vibes

Philip K. Dick meets the Coen Brothers in this genre-bending near-future tech nightmare that is as bitingly funny as it is horrifically believable from the New York Times bestselling author of Horror Movie.

Meet Julia Flang, a twenty-something former semi-professional gamer, living with her retired uncle, and working two jobs she doesn’t like. Out of the blue, her estranged mother, a CFO for one of the world’s largest tech companies, offers her a temp job with a payday Julia can’t refuse. One sham interview later, she’s offered the job: to chaperone a man in a vegetative state—one with proprietary AI implanted in his head—from California to the East Coast.

To sum up in Julia’s own words: “You want me to remote control this dead dude across the country.” In a word, yes. But he’s not dead dead.

Meet a middle-aged man who wakes within a disorienting hellscape filled with monstrous grotesqueries. Worse than the fluid, morphing reality in which he’s trapped, he has no memory of who he is. He certainly doesn’t remember getting the rabbit tattoo on his arm. He only knows that he must find a certain person. Who? He can’t remember.

Using a cell phone modeled after a video game controller, Julia fumblingly navigates the man she calls “Bernie” from the company campus and onto planes and through one of the largest airports in America. All the while, the man endures an ever-changing and worsening nightmare that offers clues as to who he was—and who he must track down. And as their two lives intertwine, Julia and Bernie become unlikely allies and fugitives on a collision course with reality.

Dead but Dreaming of Electric Sheep is a heady, horrific genre-bender from one of the most groundbreaking voices in fiction today.

Don’t just take
our word for it

"Philip K. Dick would be honored to read Tremblay's novel, which, with its hypnotic prose, compels us to confront our existential horror even as it makes us laugh, excites us, moves us, and yes, makes us shudder a lot."

- Agustina Bazterrica, the international best-selling author of Tender Is the Flesh and The Unworthy

"Paul Tremblay is on fire, this time with a furious work of science fiction that, chapter by chapter, melts your brain and scours your soul. As entertaining and pop-culture savvy as the novel can be, it's emotionally wrenching and truly scary—you'll never think of the phrase proof of concept the same way again. Get ready to root for Julia Flang and weep for our lost humanity."

- Ed Park, author of Pulitzer Prize finalist Same Bed, Different Dreams and An Oral History of Atlantis

"Innovative, terrifying, and deeply human. An electric and wild skewering of Silicon Valley's takeover of the human mind and body that could only be written by Paul Tremblay. Dead but Dreaming of Electric Sheep will keep you up at night."

- Sarah Rose Etter, author of Ripe and the Book of X

Get a taste

Your fluttering eyelids are mouths, mouths that talk too fast because they are lying. You press your palms into your eyes to slow the lids down, to shut them the hell up.

While hidden within a brief, warm respite of darkness, a muttering, mumbling discussion percolates. You drift in their sea of sibilants and plosives that form old, forgotten words, until someone rises above the frothing fray, asking, “What are the signs?”

You — yes, you are you for the duration of this, whatever this is — roll the stones of your hands away from your eyes.

A man, dressed in a red tracksuit with a white, orderly zipper splitting his chest, sits in a creaking wooden chair. If the room is a sundial, then the complaining chair is its gnomon. This room is a living room belonging to a modest house, a house that is unfamiliar to you, but you are not weighted by an oppressive feeling of unfamiliarity. The living room is ill-lit and dank and the plaster walls a beige shade no one would purposefully choose. Pitted Styrofoam tiles chessboard the ceiling. A tattered woven throw rug spills across the hardwood floor. A collection of out-of-date furniture molders in the areas where shadows are thickest, and the pieces swap positions within the room whenever you blink.

You don’t remember why you are there, don’t remember traveling to this house. You do not perseverate on such thoughts, though, which are distant, nagging annoyances, and not as pressing a matter as the in-media-res conversation and your hummingbird- wings eyelids. You mash your palms into your eyes again. Your hands sink inside your head, to the depth of your wrists, mercifully stopping the manic, strobing flutter. Still, somehow, you are able to see. You are marooned on a pea-green couch, a long one that extends to the edges of your periphery. You sit slouched and your legs are vines growing haphazardly into the room.

“How much time do we have?” Tracksuit Man asks.

“Three days,” someone in the room says. Another adds, “Four, tops.”

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Book notes

  • 🙋‍♀️ Why we chose

    It’s giving The Big Lebowski meets Weekend at Bernie’s meets Philip K. Dick: an eclectic stew of horror dystopia and dark comedy, where dead bodies are either comical puppets or precious cargo and Miracle’s Max’s proclamation of “mostly dead” is a valid medical diagnosis.

    In fact, this novel begs the question of what “dead” and “alive” even mean, and whether there’s truly a difference between the two. If the body is merely “a lifeboat for your consciousness,” the actual biological processes that keep it running become far less important—basically, it’s the thought that counts! From there, we get a sharp, topical exploration of AI and ethics, the ominous creep of machine over man, and, in the words of our cool-as-hell gamer girl protagonist, the “science-fictiony, sell-to-government-weaponizing-remote-control-zombie–soldier scenarios that could easily go hand-in-hand with this tech.”

    The prose is strange and surrealist, a cyberpunk fever dream, making a mockery of materiality and collapsing boundaries between mind, body, and technology. We even get a bizarre metafictional interlude lamenting how hard it is for a novelist to capture readers' “wilted attention spans and dopamine-addled social-media brains.” Dead but Dreaming is a book that consistently chooses perception over reality, so strap in for one of the weirdest things you’ll read this summer.

  • ⚠️ Content warnings

    Child death.