A propulsive cyberpunk thriller that imagines a corporate-owned Alaska teetering on the brink of global war, asking whether the people who start fires can survive the conflagration
In Dillenback’s debut novel, MIR.EXE, Alaska has seceded from the United States, and a superconducting alloy called PermaFlux has made it the richest nation on Earth—all of it controlled by the corporate monolith Cryosaga Industries. The year is 2096, and most Alaskans live under the heel of corporate surveillance, digital integration, and rampant poverty.
Into this world steps Echo Kinyata, a dock worker who manages thousands of shipping containers from inside a neural-linked cyberspace and who is about to make a decision that will upend his world and possibly the world at large.
The story kicks off when Echo’s estranged wife, Lyra, asks him to let a particular shipping container pass through the port without inspection. Instead of simply complying, he does what his instincts demand: he searches it and steals the data chip within—labeled Мир, Russian for “peace.”
What follows is a kinetic, morally dense chase across the streets and slums of Anchorage as Echo evades Cryosaga’s interceptors, corrupt police, and the factional resistance movement known as Frostbyte. When Lyra is fatally wounded by a Cryosaga AI in the aftermath, Echo is left holding a weapon that both sides want and that he barely understands. He descends into the orbit of Frostbyte’s leadership—the idealistic but calculating Vail and his volatile second-in-command Rina—who see Echo’s port access and technological gifts as the key to striking back against Cryosaga’s stranglehold.
Dillenback is at his best when he allows the book to breathe into ideas. The conversations between Echo and Doc—his partnered AI at the docks—are among the most philosophically satisfying exchanges. Doc is calm, precise, and genuinely curious, and the novel does not rush to resolve whether that curiosity constitutes consciousness. “Either you are trying to insult me, or you don’t trust your own handiwork,” Doc tells Echo during one standoff, and the line captures why this dynamic works: the AI reflects the human back to himself, and neither comes out looking entirely rational.
The worldbuilding, which includes a detailed historical timeline appendix tracing Alaska’s rise from Cold War surplus state to global technological hegemon, is equally impressive as it feels not just plausible but inevitable. The city of Anchorage, divided between gleaming corporate towers and the rotting slums of South Angst, carries a palpable social anger. Dillenback is careful not to write simple heroes. Vail, the charismatic resistance leader, is no savior; Rina is effective but ruthless; and Echo himself operates somewhere between survival and self-destruction throughout.
Where MIR.EXE occasionally stumbles is in its secondary storylines. Officer Benjamin Tate and his corrupt partner Lenny provide a compelling ground-level portrait of institutional violence, but this thread never reconnects to the main narrative in a meaningful way, leaving it feeling like a detour rather than a structural counterpoint. The Frostbyte headquarters section also slows the otherwise relentless pacing with extended exchanges that explain rather than dramatize. And while the novel’s ending suits its themes, it leans more toward disorientation than catharsis.
MIR.EXE announces Dillenback as a voice worth watching. The novel is soaked in genuine ideas about AI consciousness, human-machine integration, class struggle, and what it means to live inside systems designed not for people but for profit. This is an example of contemplative science fiction that takes the genre’s oldest question—what do we owe each other in a world shaped by power and technology?—and pursues it with real urgency.
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