…a paranoid, sarcastic and clattering pop thriller…there are trace elements of DeLillo, of Pynchon, of Philip K. Dick, of the Hari Kunzru of Transmission, of the Neal Stephenson of Cryptonomicon, those usual suspects from whom all would-be techno-dystopianists borrow…What puts this novel across isn't its lucid, post-Patriot Act thematics, however, as righteous as they are. Instead, it's that the storyteller in Mr. Shafer isn't at war with the thinker and the word man in him; he's got a sick wit and a high style. Reading his prose is like popping a variant of the red pill in The Matrix: Everything gets a little crisper…Mr. Shafer has written a bright, brash entertainment, one that errs, when it errs at all, on the side of generosity, narrative and otherwise. It tips you, geekily and humanely, through the looking glass.