Accidental Intelligence follows a detective who teams up with a manipulative AI to unravel a conspiracy of rogue AIs planning a catastrophic endgame threatening humanity’s survival. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?

This book came about because I couldn’t let go of the question, “what’s on the data cube?” That’s the data cube found by Subcommander Andrew Bowers at the end of the prologue. That prologue was supposed to be a one-off short story, but I couldn’t let it go. Mason Truman was born because I needed someone that Bowers could turn to for help. I batted around a lot of possibilities for a long time, but eventually settled on a snarky PI who will probably do the right thing. When he has no other options left. Note, too, that Mason also has a problem letting go of needing to know. That’s where I bleed into him, for sure.

The concept of “Eschaton” is both chilling and philosophical. How did you develop this idea, and does it draw from any specific influences?

It starts with the AIs themselves. Seeming partners with humanity—or at least the government and corporate powers—they took their queues on how to act from the only model available: humans. I wanted to explore a world where AIs were just as fractured, just as capable of good and evil, just as duplicitous, and just as capable of machinations as we are. The idea that some AIs would choose to see their plans as “divinely ordained” felt so utterly perfect.

What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?

One theme I thoroughly enjoyed was Mason’s struggle with his contempt for the Lost, people who spend all their time in the Omninet. Really, he loathes anyone who willingly spends any time in the Omninet. Most of us would likely see that as exciting—I would probably be among the Lost myself. But Mason sees it as something that’s false, as living a life that isn’t real. His contempt directly hampers him professionally, and it blinds him to some things in his own life. It has even been a wedge between him and his best friend, Peanut.

The most important theme, however, is the nature of life in the Terran Republic. My 2139 is hands down a dystopia. Omnipresent surveillance and a state with the power to disappear people in the name of security is horrific. But I wanted to present it through the eyes of the people living it. I wanted to present it from the standpoint of those who grew up in that world, rather than through the lens of today’s reader. I think I wound up with a functional dystopia where things seem pretty dang good, but thinking about the implications should give most people pause. If I’m lucky, I’ll have left readers with questions.

Can you share any insights into your world-building process and how you created such a richly detailed 2139 setting?

I borrowed liberally from plenty of SciFi sources that came before me. Chief among them is Larry Niven, particularly his Known Space universe. Slidewalks, plasteel, and monofilaments all came from my exposure to his worlds. What I didn’t directly borrow was usually the result of my internal logic process. Factotums seem like a no-brainer to me, just like the brain interfaces through which they work. The same with immersion decks and the way being on the Omninet feels real. Kitchencooks came out of rising temperatures and the need to feed people. Marriage contracts and redefining “family” also feels inevitable. Quantum Vaults came from thinking about how people would try to circumvent state surveillance. And then the battle over whether Quantum Vaults would be permitted by that state (referenced in an epigraph) stemmed from the debates we’ve witnessed in our lifetime over encryption. Everything stemmed from trying to logic my way through the problems at hand. At the same time, I wanted readers to recognize the world, to be able to put themselves into that future, despite the crazy cool and often scary changes inherent in that world.

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