The year is 2045.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
An authoritarian president is starting his third term. Protests are severely restricted. Privacy is no longer a right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The teenagers in a New Jersey shore town skirt the new laws recklessly\u2014 but their freedom is in jeopardy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Charming Cardo supports himself and his ailing father by selling an illegal app.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Conservative Midwestern transplant Bob falls in love, inconveniently, with Danai\u2014an undocumented immigrant from Africa who lives under the constant threat of deportation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Elora, a rebellious artist, attracts a cop\u2019s unwanted interest, with disastrous results.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
More recognizable than the dystopia of Orwell\u2019s 1984<\/em>, Michael Laser\u2019s Futura<\/em> takes aim at the present by envisioning a future that\u2019s just a little darker\u2014balancing its dread with comedy and moments of surprising heroism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n ———————-<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLaser takes time to bring real pathos to his characters… The result is a narrative that is both engaging and memorable. A deeply felt novel whose characters will feel familiar and fresh all at once.\u201d \u2014 Kirkus Reviews<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n “Futura<\/em> is the contemporary dystopian novel that is second only to George Orwell’s iconic dystopian novel 1984<\/em>… A fascinating and compelling read from start to finish, Futura<\/em> is especially and unreservedly recommended…” \u2014 Midwest Book Review<\/em> After January 6th, 2021, I didn\u2019t think that Donald Trump or anyone like him would get near the White House for a long time. But I assumed that, sooner or later, people would forget.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To put off that day, I started work on a novel about what America might look like if extreme conservatives got their way\u2014if they managed to tick off every box on their wish list. I wanted the book to serve as a warning, a 1984<\/em> for our time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But every dystopia needs characters who suffer within it. So I invented four teenagers, each with a different problem caused in part by the new realities. These aren\u2019t political kids. They just want to live their lives. But some big roadblocks are standing in their way:<\/p>\n\n\n\n I thought I had all the time in the world to write this book. By the time I finished, though, Trump was running for president again. And by the time my agent sent it out, the 2024 election was over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly my warning for the future seemed moot\u2014a few weeks too late.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then a few months passed, and the new administration began fulfilling the promises of Project 2025. When I looked at the book again, I saw that some of the ugly doings I predicted had already come true: most dramatically, the relentless hunt for undocumented immigrants. But much of what I warned about hasn\u2019t happened yet. It seems to me that the book isn\u2019t too late after all. The message is still relevant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One last comment. Even though the inspiration for the book was political, once I started writing it, the characters and their problems became more interesting to me than the politics. (They have crushes on each other, often unrequited; they have complicated friendships; and they have to deal with crappy after-school jobs and mediocre teachers.) It\u2019s really the story of four very specific kids, and how they navigate these complicated times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n EXCERPT:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWho\u2019s going to enlighten us as to why the southern states seceded?\u201d Mr. Cangialosi asked. \u201cAmethyst, how about you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n At the front of the room, a map glistened on the screen. It showed the Union states in bright blue; those that seceded were blood red; the \u201cborder\u201d states were yellow; and the western territories were gray.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Amethyst hadn\u2019t watched a homework clip all year. She stared at the screen like a mannequin, while other students played games on their wrists and messaged friends. Mr. C drew figure eights on the ceiling with the red dot of his pointer. In just a few weeks, his thirty-year stretch would be up; he could already taste freedom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n An anonymous fart was followed by the teacher\u2019s standard response: \u201cThat was very ass-toot of you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not a peep from Amethyst. \u201cFabio, give it a try,\u201d Mr. C said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThey wanted to do things the way they wanted? Instead of taking orders from a central government in Washington?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe textbook says you\u2019re right. Congratulations.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat\u2019s bullshit and everyone knows it,\u201d Kristi said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019ll have to take that up with your congressperson,\u201d the teacher said, and winked, unless that was his tic, which came and went unpredictably.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAre you scared to say the S word, Mr. C?\u201d Aracelis asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Unperturbed, he aimed the pointer at the golden eagle on top of the flag staff. \u201cYou want me to risk my pension for a meaningless gesture? Sorry. But if you or Kristi want to ex\u00adpress a subversive opinion, go right ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Kristi dove in. She said that the southern states assumed it was only a matter of time before Lincoln outlawed slavery, so a few weeks after he took office, they broke away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mr. C asked where she\u2019d picked up this information. She said, \u201cIt\u2019s out there if you look for it. And you should be teaching it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCheck in with me in twenty years. We\u2019ll see if you\u2019re still fearless.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Those who were listening laughed. But one student thrust his hand straight in the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, Mr. Babic? Let\u2019s hear your take on this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s pronounced Babitch<\/em>,\u201d Bob reminded the teacher, in unison with the twins, Oliver and Fuzzy, who mimicked him this way every time. Ignoring them, Bob said, \u201cThere\u2019s a reason why teachers aren\u2019t supposed to talk about slavery.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Once again, Bob explained the need to heal the fractures in American society: how dividing people by race, religion, and country of family origin had only made everyone angry at their neighbors. How President DePinto wanted to raise a new generation, not poisoned by harmful ideas. \u201cLook around,\u201d Bob said. \u201cSee all the different shades of skin color? That\u2019s what\u2019s beautiful about America. But we have to get past the resentments. Like the president says, you can\u2019t move forward if your wheels are stuck in the mud.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fuzzy said, \u201cGo, B\u2019bitch, go!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cM-m-moron, you mean.\u201d That was Draymond Quincey, who never smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mr. C rapped on his desk twice, his shorthand for unacceptable<\/em>. But the insult hadn\u2019t hurt Bob much. Like an injection, it was easy enough to endure, and worth the sting, since the alternative\u2014keeping his opinion to himself\u2014would have made him a coward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bob\u2019s family had moved to this shore town three years ear\u00adlier. He knew what people thought of him. To them, he was a hick from the middle of America, where people still naively believed in things like patriotism, loyalty, courtesy, and cour\u00adage. Partly because of the straight part in his short hair, some people called him Scouty McScout\u2014which had gotten under his skin at first, because in fact he had <\/em>wanted to be an Eagle Scout, and would have achieved that rank if the last troop in town hadn\u2019t disbanded before he arrived.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But Bob knew something his classmates didn\u2019t. They <\/em>were the naive ones. They had never questioned the whole package of opinions that most people around here seemed to share. This presented him with two options: he could keep quiet and spare himself the mockery, or he could speak up and defend his ideas. Even if no one agreed publicly, they might think things over when they were alone. Someday they might change their minds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His mother had taught him to hate no one and meet the world with goodwill; his father had taught him never to doubt what he knew was true. Therefore, he dissented regularly, but he did it in a congenial way. When they teased him, he took it as friendly kidding. At least he tried to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Kristi never mocked Bob, but she argued against everything he said, always. \u201cThere\u2019s a new law against boys wearing makeup,\u201d she told him. \u201cDid you know that? The president talks a lot about freedom, but he keeps taking more of it away.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFucking ridiculous,\u201d Aracelis said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI say people should ignore the new laws. They can\u2019t arrest everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNope,\u201d Bob said. \u201cYou\u2019re free to protest, but not to break the law. If you don\u2019t like it, change it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eyes rolled. Aracelis raised her hand and said, \u201cCould we go back to slavery?\u201d She listed some of the abuses slaves had been subjected to. Rape. Branding. Salt on whip-wounds. Amputation of limbs. Castration.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Oliver and Fuzzy moaned. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Bob had never heard of these particular punishments and doubted they were all factual. He didn\u2019t know how to respond.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Kristi challenged him again. \u201cDo you really think it\u2019s better not to learn these things?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He made the best case he could. \u201cI don\u2019t necessarily believe those things really happened. I\u2019d have to look into it. But even if they did, how does dwelling on it help? That was two hundred years ago. It just stirs up old grudges.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Aracelis slapped her desk. \u201cI can\u2019t believe you really mean the things you say.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was questioning his sincerity, and that called for a firm response. \u201cI think there are people in this room who agree with me, but they don\u2019t want to say so because they\u2019ll get attacked.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t think so, Bob,\u201d Oliver said. \u201cNobody agrees with you. But we like your spunk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI like your shirts,\u201d Fuzzy said. \u201cAnd your pen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That was sarcasm, since Bob always wore button-down shirts in checked patterns while Fuzzy preferred iridescent T-shirts; also, Fuzzy said, \u201cNice pen, Bob,\u201d about three times a week, referring to the ballpoint he kept in his shirt pocket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The debate went on, and Mr. C let it, because it freed him to read the news on his wrist. Draymond brought up the highways, which were starting to fall apart. \u201cThey shouldn\u2019t have privatized the maintenance,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd now you have to pay on the interstates. And that\u2019s the president\u2019s brother\u2019s company! No corruption there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bob started to say that you have to expect a few fumbles when you make revolutionary changes, but the lockdown siren interrupted him. The bolts shot, securing the door, and the steel panel slid across the little window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Everyone got up and crowded behind the security barrier. They took their time, though. Pranksters set off the system a few times a year by lighting small explosives in the hall. So far, Ocean Park High had never had a shooting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhoever had tuna for lunch, get away from me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhoever\u2019s wearing that perfume, mm-mm-mm.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They didn\u2019t have to hide for long. The custodian found the cardboard casing that had held the little bomb, and she unlocked all the doors from her office. The students were already back at their desks when the principal said over the PA, \u201cYou may return to your seats.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mr. C asked, \u201cWhere were we?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Kristi turned in her chair and looked Bob straight in the eye. \u201cDePinto\u2019s policies hurt so many people. Why doesn\u2019t that matter to you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat\u2019s not fair. He\u2019s trying to solve problems everyone else just ignored.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFools like you are the reason why he\u2019s president,\u201d Aracelis said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A few students whooped. Someone played a blast on a vuvuzela app.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ll take that as a compliment,\u201d Bob said. Back home, he reminded himself, at least half the people in the room would have agreed with him. \u201cAnd you should be more respectful when you talk about him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Draymond let out a strangled arghhh<\/em>. Bob grinned, as if to say that their taunts amused him. It was a false grin, though. He tried to shut it off but found that he couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A few desks away, Danai Kunaka turned her head. She had been murmuring notes into her Swiss; now her eyes met his. Her smile was merciful and sympathetic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Danai came from Zimbabwe. She was the only other person in the room with glasses. Hers had simple black octagonal frames: the old kind, without any tech. She didn\u2019t wear makeup or jewelry, except for her wooden bead necklace, with a little carved grasshopper at the bottom. Darker than most black Americans, she had a roundish face and only the faintest trace of an accent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He had never thought much about her, but starting at that moment, he thought about her a lot. She was always polite, always pleasant. She rarely raised her hand, but seemed to know the answer anytime a teacher called on her. Like him, she had grown up far away. Maybe she agreed with him. Maybe she respected his opinions, and the courage it took to express them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She went back to dictating her notes. Her hair, in thin braids, just reached her shoulders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His mother had once told him, Sometimes, when you\u2019re knocked down, that\u2019s when the seed of your salvation is planted. <\/em>She meant it in the religious way, but right now he took the words as a more worldly encouragement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe president is literally shredding the Constitution,\u201d Kristi said. \u201cIf we don\u2019t get more people into the streets, we\u2019ll end up with total totalitarianism!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bob could see words spilling across Danai\u2019s screen as she whispered to her wrist, but he couldn\u2019t see what they said. He wondered: were they about him? <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" America, 2045. An authoritarian president is starting his third term, and teenagers in a New Jersey shore town skirt the new laws recklessly\u2014but their freedom is in jeopardy. Comedy, tragedy, and political satire blend in Futura. Read it for the story, or to see how much of this dark future has already arrived.
COMMENTS:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
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