Yes, her followers said. Of course, they said. What drives these meaningless deviations from safety? they wondered. What kind of nihilism? What unnecessary recklessness? Delaney’s parents, too, shook their heads in dismay. She’d been willful for so long, they said. She’d left without her phone! Mae reached out to them directly, sending them a yellow digital emoji-face crying sky-blue tears. They were moved by this personal gesture, and sent her back two grateful smiles and an oversized thumbs up.

  Soon it was Dream Friday and Mae was finished thinking about Delaney. This would be Mae’s first Dream Friday presentation in years, and she had no bandwidth for saboteurs. From the wings of the stage, she looked out on the audience, and wondered if there could be any other insurrectionists in her midst. She saw a few thousand people in lycra using the same phones, the same tablets, their hearts and health measured by the same devices fastened tightly to their wrists. And Wes Makazian in the front row! Gabriel and Stenton, Mae’s stalwart partners, had been watching him and determined that he was no danger; he wanted to improve the future, not prevent it. The rest of the Everyones assembled were wonderfully compliant. As Mae waited for her cue, they sent each other smiles and frowns, rainbows and Popeyes and pictures of their lunches. She laughed. Rebellion, here or anywhere, was not likely.

  The applause as she stepped onto the stage was rapturous, adoring. She basked a bit longer than she should have, but it had been a hard year, and she needed it—they all needed it, this unalloyed joy, this sense of shared mission.

  “Revolutions do not come on schedule,” she said, knowing her audience would feast on those words, revolution and schedule. “But they come if you’re listening.” The applause crackled then roared. The Everyones were primed; this would be so easy. She would outline SumNum and the Consensual Economic Order, the seamless way they would work together, and the world’s last bits of chaos and uncertainty would evaporate like dew in sunlight. Where there had been din and disorder there would be the quiet hum of a machine that saw all, knew all, and knew best—that was committed to the perfection of people and salvation of the planet. The applause continued until she raised her hands and clasped them together in gratitude.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Now, let me tell you about my idea.”

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to these friends for crucial assistance at pivotal times: Kitania Folk, Thom Unterburger, Frank Uhle, Zach London, Kathy Senello, John Warner, Amy Schmitz, Campbell Campbell (courageous human), Cameron Finch, Felicia Wong (most incisive of forest rangers), Mokhtar Alkhanshali, Hannah Rose Neuhauser, Jenny Traig, Davis Mendez, Anne McPeak, John McMurtrie, Lindsay Williams, Deb Klein, Duncan at Freisens, Em-J Staples, Jessica Hische (yes logo), Sarah Stewart Taylor, Tom Barbash, Nancy and John Cassidy, all of our cover-artist co-conspirators, and Eve Weinsheimer.

  The McSweeney’s staff, we happy few: Sunra Thompson, Claire Boyle, Eric Cromie, Dan Weiss, Annie Dills, Alvaro Villanueva, and Chris Monks. Thank you. And thank you Lucy Huber and Brian Christian for your timely expertise.

  Thank you as always to Andrew Wylie, for twenty years my partner. Thank you to Luke Ingram, Jeff Posternak, and all at the Wylie Agency. My friends at Knopf and Penguin Random House have been so patient and tolerant and flexible. Thank you to the forthright and bold Reagan Arthur, and to John Freeman, champion of this book and all books. Thanks also to Maya Mavjee, James Meader, Jenny Jackson and Julie Ertl. At the very brave and mischievous Baker & Taylor Publisher Services, gratitude goes to Jeff Tegge, Mark Hillesheim, Dan Verdick, Matthew Warner, and Claire Holloway.

  A big salute to all the independent bookstores who fight every day to stay alive in a world that loves monopolies. And to the people who keep these independent entities alive by never forgetting the dim dystopian specter of a world without actual bookstores inhabited by actual humans who actually read books.

  Speaking of: this book would not have made it into the world without the care and faith and editing and unflagging enthusiasm of Amanda Uhle, courageous publisher, and Amy Sumerton, unparalleled editor. Thank you, dear friends.

  And with limitless love to my family.

  THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

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  Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

  First published in the United States of America by McSweeney’s 2021

  Published by Vintage Books 2021

  First published in Great Britain by Hamish Hamilton 2021

  Copyright © Dave Eggers, 2021

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Cover design: Eve Weinsheimer

  The Every logo design: Jessica Hische

  This is a work of fiction. Nothing described herein actually happened, though much of it likely will. At that point, this will be a work on nonfiction.

  The secretly disturbing Every logo was designed by Jessica Hische.

  ISBN: 978-0-241-53550-9

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

 

 

  Dave Eggers, The Every

 

 

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