Gren Moritz is the newly elected Chief Minister for the Nations of Rivennia, and the first from Varcega. Varcegians believe in tradition; they eat farmed meat and practice arranged marriages (Gren’s wife, Lorelei, was carefully chosen by his grandparents). Gren’s main platform is “protecting humanity from the rise of ultrahumanism,” but his initial bill may prove controversial—it proposes sterilization for anyone planning gene enhancement treatments, ensuring that unwanted mutations can’t spread. Gren’s not the only one in charge. Rivennia has a monarch, but the science-worshipping Human Order, with its Supreme Leader Igor Voychenko, appears to wield the real power. At a dinner Gren reluctantly attends, he’s introduced to the Liffdom Lodges, Voychenko’s amoral secret society. Gren’s pressured to play a game, wagering on the date of Queen Brynhilda’s death. His competitors are also newcomers: washed-up supermodel Primula Zhang, now the face of fast-fashion brand Skitto, and a low-level government resource analyst, Sam Rosendale. Sharing painful personal secrets, Primula and Sam closely bond. When the date Primula chose passes without the queen’s demise, Primula disappears, and Sam, with the chief minister’s help, attempts to expose the dangerous truth of where she went, and why. In a self-assured debut, Urencio creates an inventive, fascinating world. Lacunfort, the metropolis Gren and Lorelei inhabit in the Year 500, contains wonders; a screen overhead mimics a sky, with more layers of the city stacked on top—as surprised country-girl Lorelei notes, “like a pile of pancakes!” Bots are fully incorporated into the society, performing hospital work, extinguishing fires, even powdering Gren’s face before his talk-show appearance. For transportation, capsulas speed through vacuum pneuducts. The characters, major and minor, are as carefully crafted as the setting. Urencio has a particularly deft and empathetic touch with those often overlooked, whether they’re a marginalized trans man; or aging, like Gren’s hardworking, self-effacing assistant; or the frail queen, though a “living relic,” who also elicits respect. The queen’s advice to Gren is wise: “The single most important trait [for a politician] is detachment.”