Ghostcode

Short and punchy — exactly how I like cyberpunk intros. Iris moving through the Gutter felt cinematic; I could smell the frying oil and feel the rain on cracked arcology skin. The micro-shard scene with Rae? Chilling. And the personal stakes with Mika make the tech stuff land emotionally. This excerpt sold me on the book’s promise: smart worldbuilding, strong lead, and real consequences. Bring on the Skysplice.

Loved the vibe — wet streets, hacked lumin, a protagonist who sells memories like contraband. Iris is instantly interesting: she’s not a messiah, she’s a fixer who knows how much repair costs. Rae’s jittery reveal of the capsule had me clutching my coffee. Also, big props for making the tech feel eerie without turning every line into a lecture. Sassy, noir-ish cyberpunk with a soft center. If the rest of the book keeps up this blend of grit and heart, I’m here for it. Also, Mika’s predicament? Brutal. Don’t make me cry, author. 😭

I wanted to love this — the setting is vivid and Iris is a likable lead — but the excerpt leans a bit too hard on familiar cyberpunk beats. Rain-soaked arcology, markets named the Gutter, shadowy vendors, a jittery informant with a dangerous shard… it’s all well-written but not particularly surprising. The reveal that the illicit archive bears Iris’s own name feels telegraphed: authors have been doing the ‘protagonist discovers a secret link to their past’ twist for decades, and here it arrives without much subversion. Pacing is another issue. The scene spends a lot of time savoring atmosphere (which is nice) but gives only cursory grounding to terms like Lattice, anchor program, and Skysplice; I wanted more clarity about how these systems work and why the Pulse is an existential threat beyond the big-words sense. There are intriguing emotional beats (Mika’s being tethered is a strong hook), but I’m wary the plot will rely on clichés — corporate dystopia, the lone fixer with a hidden past — unless later chapters deepen the politics and complicate Iris’s moral choices. Still, the prose is competent, so I’ll give it another chapter before deciding.

This excerpt is a masterclass in mood-driven exposition. The narrative voice leans into sensory detail — sights, smells, the whisper of diagnostics — but never loses sight of plot propulsion. Iris’s profession as a neural restorer is a brilliant device: it naturally introduces the Lattice and Helix without clumsy expository lumps, and it frames the ethical quandaries at the story’s heart. The sequence with Rae and the micro-shard is handled with perfect pacing: it raises urgency, hints at past betrayals, and leaves the reader with concrete questions about identity and culpability. What I found most intriguing is the moral architecture implied by the premise. Memory as commodity allows the author to explore consent, class, and corporate control in ways that feel both timely and philosophically rich. The anchor metaphor — becoming the one thing that lets suppressed pasts resurface — is elegantly paradoxical and promises difficult choices. If the narrative continues to balance street-level detail with the looming systemic threats (Skysplice, Pulse), this could be one of the best recent takes on memory-centric cyberpunk. Looking forward to how Iris negotiates sacrifice and agency.

I finished the excerpt in one breath and then went back to re-read the scene in the Gutter. There’s such a tactile quality to the world — puddle-reflected neon, the smell of solder and bootleg mood-threads — that I could almost feel Iris’ fraying coat and the hum of her implants against the back of my neck. Iris Kade is a compelling protagonist: tough, weary, but quietly humane. The moment with Rae and the micro-shard capsule is nail-biting; the tiny object somehow carries a whole history, and the way Iris recognizes it feels intimate and terrifying. The hook — finding an illicit archive that bears her own name — is exactly the kind of cerebral, emotionally freighted premise I love in cyberpunk. The stakes feel personal (Mika’s tethered anchor program) and citywide (the Pulse, Helix’s Skysplice), which sets up a thrilling moral dilemma about memory and responsibility. The prose balances gritty description with clear tech-world scaffolding. I’m invested in Iris’s choices: will she be the anchor or let suppressed pasts resurface? Can’t wait to read more.

Tight, economical opening that does a lot with a little. The author wastes no time establishing both setting and stakes: the Gutter marketplace gives you class division and sensory texture in three paragraphs, and Iris’s livelihood as a neural restorer neatly explains the mechanics of this society’s memory economy. I liked how Mika’s situation provides an emotional tether to the protagonist’s urgent, practical motives — it grounds the high-concept elements. Technically solid: the micro-shard is a crisp MacGuffin that simultaneously promises mystery and danger, and the mention of Helix’s Skysplice hints at larger corporate architecture without info-dumping. My only reservation is that some of the jargon (anchor program, Lattice, Pulse) could use a touch more contextualization early on for readers unfamiliar with dense cyberpunk worldbuilding. Still, very promising; I’d read the next chapter.