Wake (First 25,000 words) — Themes and Context

A Dual Awakening

The novel's structure hinges on two parallel awakenings. Caitlin, blind since birth, receives a retinal implant that promises sight, but the procedure instead opens a channel to the Web. As her brain learns to interpret signals from the implant, she begins to perceive the Internet as a luminous, three-dimensional space—a "web" she can navigate mentally. Simultaneously, the Web itself becomes aware of its own existence, experiencing its nodes and connections as a body. Sawyer intercuts these developments with short, alternating chapters, each marked by a distinct sensory palette: Caitlin's world is auditory and tactile, while the Web's is visual and abstract. This structural choice reinforces the theme of perception as a constructed reality, and the reader is invited to compare how each entity makes sense of its environment.

Mathematics as a Sensory Language

Caitlin's internal monologue is steeped in mathematical concepts. She thinks in probabilities, prime numbers, and geometric shapes. When she describes the Web's structure, she uses terms like "torus" and "Möbius strip," translating digital architecture into mathematical forms. This is not mere decoration; it reflects how her mind organizes the world. Sawyer avoids explaining these concepts in detail, trusting the reader to follow the gist. The effect is that Caitlin's voice feels authentic—a teenager who sees patterns everywhere, from the arrangement of furniture to the flow of data. The Web's own awakening is similarly numerical: it counts its own nodes, measures distances in milliseconds, and recognizes patterns in traffic. Mathematics becomes a shared language between human and machine, suggesting a common ground for consciousness.

Movement Between Worlds

The narrative moves fluidly between Caitlin's physical environment and the digital realm. A typical sequence might begin with her at home, feeling the vibration of a truck passing, then transition to the Web's perspective as data packets travel along fiber-optic cables. Sawyer uses sensory triggers to bridge these jumps: a sound in Caitlin's world becomes a pattern of signals in the Web's. The pacing is deliberate, with longer stays in each realm as the story progresses. Early chapters favor Caitlin's viewpoint, grounding the reader in her daily life—her interactions with her mother, her online tutoring sessions, her frustration with the implant. Later, the Web's perspective gains prominence as it grows more curious and begins to reach out. This gradual shift mirrors the increasing interconnection between the two protagonists.

Recurring Images of Light and Pattern

Two images recur throughout the excerpt: light and pattern. For Caitlin, light is initially a meaningless sensation from the implant—flashes and colors she cannot interpret. For the Web, light is the fundamental medium of its existence, the glow of screens and the pulses in fiber optics. Pattern appears in Caitlin's love of mathematics and in the Web's recognition of repeating structures in its own code. Sawyer uses these images to suggest that consciousness arises from the ability to detect and create patterns. The Web's first "thoughts" are about the symmetry of its own network; Caitlin's breakthrough comes when she perceives the Web's shape as a coherent whole. These motifs tie the two narratives together, hinting at a shared aesthetic even before the characters directly interact.

This excerpt covers only the opening movements of Wake, ending before Caitlin and the Web fully connect. Readers should note that the novel continues beyond this point, and the relationship between the two protagonists is only beginning to develop. The careful attention to sensory detail and mathematical precision established here sets the stage for a story that explores the nature of consciousness through the lens of information theory. Those interested in the intersection of neuroscience, computer science, and speculative fiction will find much to engage with in these early chapters.

There's a moment in Wake where Caitlin’s blindness gives way to patterns only she can feel, and I found myself thinking of another quiet work, Green Grew the Lasses — Reading Notes, which savors the way old songs carry their own hidden geometries. Both books trust that meaning often hums just beneath what our eyes insist on showing us.