Matthew Binder - The Absolved

This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ISBN (ebook): 978-1-7324007-3-3

Cover design by Najla Qamber

Edited by Melissa Ringsted

Interior design layout by Rebecca Poole

Black Spot Books

2018 All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the authors imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

"A blistering account of an America with few jobs and no purpose. This is a funny, fast-paced novel with its finger on this country's dying pulse." David Burr Gerrard, author of The Epiphany Machine

The Absolved is a thinking persons novel. Dramatic and well written , this dystopian trip to a robotic future has everything : lust, law, medicine, betrayal, politics even love. As humans struggle to retrieve their humanity from the robots who have taken their jobs and self worth, one mana doctor has the opportunity to be a hero or villain. This book will keep you up at night wondering what our future holds. Alan Dershowitz

With touches of Vonnegut and Huxley, Matthew Binder delivers a darkly funny look at a future were most likely stuck with. Seth Meyers

In The Absolved, Matthew Binder has delivered us a devastating portrait of where we are imminently headed. Through his narrator Henri's fopperies, ranging from the affair to the revolution, Binder's novel is an ode to the imperfect and hilarious beauty of being human. Hannah Lillith Assadi, author of Sonora

Dysfunctionin the father and in the patriarchy thats to blame for most of this worlds current illsis the theme of Matthew Binders novel The Absolved, and never have we seen it more brilliantly skewered or sadly portrayed. Hilarious as Vonnegut in Cats Cradle, terrifying as Lewis in It Cant Happen Here, Binder offers us a parable for a future that could as well be our present, neither of which we should be proud to call our own. Eerie in its insight, lacerating in its wit, merciless in its conclusions, this is a book liable to become an instant classic. Binder points the finger in these pages, and names the names. He is an oracle for our time. D. Foy, author of Made to Break

The Absolved shines an unapologetic spotlight on the malaise and absurdity of an America whose soul has been sucked out by an over-dependence on artificial intelligence -- a journey that feels as poignant and honest in today's world as it does in Binder's techno-dystopia. John Cunningham Ph.D., AI professor, Columbia University

Ive just suffered an accident while driving to meet Taylor, an entirely lovely woman whos not my wife. Its nothing seriousthe accident, that isjust a crumpled fender and a sore elbow from the impact more of a nuisance than anything else. I am, after all, a busy man on a tight schedule.

There must be two dozen passersby whove stopped to stare. Youd think I just had a six-car pileup from the spectacle I am.

Go on, I tell them. Nothing to see here. Everythings fine.

These days, ever since self-driving cars became the law, this sort of thing is rare. I almost cant remember the last time I got stuck in traffic due to a wreck, and fatalities are way down, ninety percent in six years, if I remember the statistic correctly. No more good-timing drunks on the road, at least not behind the wheel. Just like that, a scourge of suburban American society was eradicated forever. A lot of good it does me, though! Where were these marvels of human innovation when I needed them most? Its regrettable to admit, but before I had a bit of money in my pocket, I had something of a reputation for irresponsible driving. Even so, our technology is far from perfect. My car just hopped the curb and hit a streetlight.

I trace a square before me, opening my hologram.

Insurance company, I say, and Kaylee appears, her face a composite of two of my favorite actresses.

But no sooner have we exchanged some pleasantries than she assaults me with questions. Shes skeptical of my explanation for the accident. It seems she suspects Im at fault. The insinuation is that Ive tampered with the vehicle. Thats a very popular thing to do these days, especially with the kids. They watch the old films in which cars meant freedom, rebellion, and sex, and they want it for themselves. People are bored of being chauffeured around, so they attempt their own retrofits, to take back some control. Kaylee has repeatedly informed me that making such a modification is a felony, punishable by fine or jail time.

She puts me on hold, and I turn on some music to pass the time. Chloe, my cars OS, is also upset. I refuse to listen to the playlists shes made. She insists she knows my tastes better than I know them myself, which, I assure her, cant possibly be true. Besides, at forty-seven years of age, I dont do playlists. A thousand times Ive told Chloe I like albums, but without fail she tries to persuade me that theyre an antiquated mode of consumption. They lack the consistency of quality and flow, she maintains, that only a machine can deliver.

On most occasions, after much opposition and reluctance, Chloe will generally acquiesce and play any of the two dozen garage rock bands from my youth that I still listen to with great piety. But today, shes forcing Rachels music on me. Rachel has wholeheartedly embraced the technology-driven cultural shifts of the past twenty years with nary a gripe. It bothers her not one bit that its been years and years since a tune penned by an actual human being has made any kind of splash.

The machines are superior to man in almost every way imaginable, she once said. Why else would we have turned over all of lifes most important functions to them?

A song written and recorded by an algorithm named Nevaeh comes blasting from the speakers. I immediately recognize the chorus, comprised of this sequence of notes: A, C#, Ebwhats come to be known as the Melody Monetizer, because in 2032, a research project led by a team of A.I. determined that this particular arrangement is the most pleasing to the human ear, and, thusly, the most profitable. A recently released study shows that ninety-two percent of contemporary pop songs and commercial jingles now use it.

Cant you find me any Talking Heads?

Im sorry, Henri, Chloe says, but the Talking Heads are on my no-play list.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Rachel gave me a list of bands Im no longer allowed to play for you.

In my own car?

Rachel doesnt like guitar music, Henri.

But shes not here now.

Its out of my hands, Henri.

Kaylee returns to the line. Shes completed her remote assessment of the vehicle. The miracles these modern-day machines can perform is beyond me. It seems each new day gives us fresh ways in which they can enter what was once private. Thinking about this sends me to despair. I engage the breathing practice my yoga mentor has taught me, and repeat my mantraThere is the nothing that is there, and the nothing that is not thereuntil Kaylee informs me that Im not guilty. The culprit