Ascendants

The dystopian sci-fi genre is a crowded space, but Don Schechter’s debut novel, Ascendants, manages to carve out a fresh, existentially terrifying corner of its own. It’s 2060, and society has been fractured by a single, unassailable piece of scientific certainty: An afterlife exists, but only for those with the right genetic marker: the Ascendants. Everyone else is a Biomass, a temporary biological entity condemned to oblivion. This isn’t a battle of faith versus reason; it’s a total scientific eviction from the paradise promised by religion, giving the world a whole new class structure controlled by The Jacobs Institute.

Schechter pulls no punches in dropping you straight into the moral carnage of this new world. The book opens on Sam Lee, a grieving husband who has been violently prevented from Ascension. His desperate struggle to follow his wife, Alexandra, is instantly compelling. “I’m supposed to be dead!” he screams from his hospital bed. “They pulled me back, Alexandra. But I won’t stay. Not without you.” It’s a gut-punch of a start, painting the horrific picture of a future where death itself has become a luxury item.

The novel’s main strength lies in its ability to humanize the philosophical divide. This is best exemplified in the clash between the dwindling religious community and the Institute’s militant followers. During a service led by a pastor, rabbi, and imam, a scene that begins as “the setup of an ancient joke,” a radical from The Institute bursts in to condemn their beliefs. They argue that traditional faith is “nothing more than hope,” while the scientific certainty offered by The Institute provides “clarity”. They boil the human condition down to a brutal, transactional mantra: “It’s not the life you lead; it is the blood you bleed”.

Then you have Maya, one of the three main threads woven through the narrative. She’s a rebellious Biomass in her twenties who has every right to be bitter. Carrying a restored .38-caliber revolver and sneaking through the city’s underworld, she’s the firebrand protagonist that this kind of story needs. Her resistance is visceral and personal, seen when she tells a battered woman, “Next time, fight back,” and presses a folding knife into her hand. She gives voice to the resentment of the condemned, telling her little sister that a tragic fire that killed children was set by “Crazy, evil, rotten Ascendants and people wanting to be like them”. This is more than a world-building conflict; it’s a class war fought over the very meaning of a soul.

Ascendants feels like a high-concept Black Mirror episode stretched into a techno-thriller, maintaining a breakneck pace while forcing you to grapple with profound ethical questions. The concept of weaponized, genetic certainty about the afterlife is a brilliant premise for a debut, and Schechter uses it to explore the terrifying intersection of eugenics, theology, and political power.

Who would enjoy this? If you’re a fan of cerebral science fiction, like the works of Philip K. Dick, or modern dystopian thrillers that blend fast action with deep moral complexity (think Altered Carbon), this book is a must-read. Anyone interested in the societal impact of genetic technology and the perennial debate of science versus belief will find this an unsettling and engrossing read. It’s a sharp, relevant, and ultimately chilling vision for the future.