Rereading the start of Charles Stross’ Accelerando. It’s exhilerating, because of how familiar it is: each year, the CCC is filled with proto-Macxs — Stross is just giving the present a shot of narrative adrenaline. And lovingly mocking reality while he’s at it — samba-punk, clothing tics and all.
The later chapters are also good, but I stop caring when it stops becoming recognizably human. Guess I’m a near-future kind of guy, for the same reasons I’m a reformer and not a revolutionary: the utopia that appeals is the one attainable by nudging the present in the right way.