Review: “Arbitrary” – from The Watcher (ARC of Ed Adams novel)

 Review: “Arbitrary” – from The Watcher, by Ed Adams

by RMT (ARC reader of The Watcher)

If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if Joan Didion and Neal Stephenson collaborated on a time-leaping metaphysical audit of Earth’s possible futures, “Arbitrary” might be your answer.

This chapter plays like an aftershock — not just of the Intervention we’ve seen before, but of knowledge itself. Limantour and Tomales warn that they’ve
outstayed their welcome in this version of Earth — a meta-thread vulnerable to destabilisation, or as they put it, arbitrary shift. (Yes, title drop.) The danger isn’t just relocation, but relocation anywhere — Moon 2, Ganymede, who knows.

What’s striking here is the fusion of warmth and horror. The Watchers aren’t just managing cosmic systems — they’re actively trying to keep the world from collapsing under the weight of its own upgrades. The science — gravity waves, magnetite propulsion, nano-healthcare — feels more like lore than exposition, and Adams is careful to tie everything back to personal stakes. Farallon isn’t just observing anymore. He’s implicated.

When they return to Bodø, there’s something chilling in how casual the timeline manipulation feels. Drake has barely missed them. But the world has changed — already. The tropus has entered public discourse. The cartridge system, with its nanotech delivery and corporate gatekeeping, is on its way. Healthcare becomes monetised, memory becomes fragmented, and an entire hemisphere is about to be wiped from Earthside awareness.

It’s dystopia by degrees: not a single tyrant, but the invisible calculus of optimisation. Torus. Brant. Raven. The names are different, the logic the same — and the moment a product becomes mandatory, you’re no longer the customer.

There’s also a slow horror in the way Abbott is reintroduced — summoned by name like a devil in a mirror. The implication? This isn’t over. It’s barely begun.

In Arbitrary, Adams asks: What if salvation comes bundled with erasure? What if the only way forward is to rewrite memory, territory, and truth itself?

It’s a haunting question. And it sticks.