Artificial intelligence holds only so much power in the year 2024. Sure, it could help improve your cover letter or maybe suggest a better pumpkin pie recipe. But it doesn’t nurture human life. The future may be quite different, with a million harmonious systems calibrating and updating and sustaining whatever remains of our species. But what happens when the systems that serve us begin to erode? Erika Swyler ponders such a future in her thoughtful speculative novel We Lived on the Horizon. 

The walled city of Bulwark protects one of the final pockets of humanity from an unlivable Earth. Controlled by a citywide AI system, the city is a near-conscious network of interconnected systems and data. Bulwark’s citizens survive in comfort or squalor based on how much their ancestors gave to the greater good, with the city’s elite, known as the Sainted, living lavishly. But when one of the Sainted is murdered in his home and all the data records are erased, Enita Malovis and her house AI system, Nix, sense something terrible is happening to Bulwark. Systems are quietly shutting down or failing to respond. Can they find out who, or what, is suppressing the truth?

AI systems take center stage in We Lived on the Horizon, and Swyler gives spectacular voice to these nonliving entities. Lines of code hint at emotion with small color changes; long database query times with no responses suggest recalcitrance or confusion. These passages are some of the most interesting and innovative in the novel, and Swyler deliberately paces her story to stretch them to their fullest potential. Moral reflections on the relationship between humanity and machines drive Enita and Nix’s ever-evolving relationship as she tries—literally—to make him human.

Lovers of Octavia Butler or Mary Shelley will easily see We Lived on the Horizon’s direct descent from such literary giants. The novel’s core, however, feels timely and urgent, wondrous and inventive. It’s a marvel and a triumph. At its conclusion, I felt a twinge of dread as I contemplated what our own creations may do to try to sustain us.

Set in the remote Kepler system, far from Earth, Hammajang Luck by Makana Yamamoto follows a thief named Edie as they try to make a life for themself after an eight-year stint in prison. Edie is released early thanks to their old friend and former partner in crime, Angel, who gives them the opportunity of a lifetime: a heist targeting Joyce Atlas, the CEO of their space station home. There’s one huge problem—Angel once betrayed Edie, which was what sent them to prison in the first place.

Trusting Angel is a difficult prospect, but Edie doesn’t have many options. They’ve been blacklisted by the mega-corp that controls the space station, so they can’t get any respectable work. Andie, Edie’s sister, works two jobs to keep her two kids fed, and has a third on the way. Edie reluctantly joins Angel’s crew, despite having built up eight years of resentment and hurt. However, even when the pair’s emotions explode, Yamamoto makes it clear that they still care for each other: Angel will surprise Edie with a joke or concern for their safety, while Edie burns with sympathy for Angel’s struggles.

Angel’s small team is composed of lovable miscreants, like 17-year-old hacker Malia, who jabbers incessantly, and naive dancer Sara, who is just as excited to take her first steps into a life of crime as she is to buy Malia a present. While the different crew members do not always get along perfectly, there is never really a sense they would betray each other. Yamamoto focuses on their supportive natures: When Sara runs her first grift and has to dodge a mark’s attempt to drug her drink, the crew burns to defend her even while they stay on task. As soon as she escapes the harrowing situation, each member comforts and supports Sara while her adrenaline cools off.

Each step in the crew’s methodical scheme is practical, contributing to the verisimilitude of Yamamoto’s world building as ID cards are cloned, fingerprints taken and escape routes secured. This is not the master plan of a super-genius, perfectly executed the night before the heist. It is more akin to the work of a skilled craftsperson: Watching Angel’s plan slowly come together feels like watching an experienced painter, with the precision on display inspiring muted awe.

The novel’s final act builds on all the momentum of two-act rising action, wrapping things up with an ultimately satisfying, if somewhat predictable, ending. Like an Ocean’s movie set in space, Hammajang Luck will charm readers looking for a smooth ride with a lovable cast.