I write about the near future the way it's actually going to arrive: not as one big event, but as a thousand small ones — a robot in a nursing home, a grocery store camera doing math on a tired woman's face, a farm run by a steward who answers to a machine. My fiction lives mostly in the 2030s, in a connected universe where the technologies we're building right now have finished moving in and started rearranging the furniture.

The Empires of 2037 is the flagship — a 113,000-word mosaic novel about the year the future stopped being one thing and became territory. The AI Lawyer is the doorway — a courtroom story about what happens when your defense attorney is an app. More is coming: episodes, poems, and a few things that don't have a category yet. I'm interested in what technology does to dignity, work, and the people standing underneath the machines — and I'd rather show you a person deciding whether to steal a granola bar than explain a network diagram.

The name comes from two of Hunter Thompson's people: Moberg, the reporter nobody respected, who saw everything anyway — and Yeoman, one of the wild ones, cut from the same cloth as Dr. Gonzo. One of them watches the world carefully. The other one drives. I write from somewhere between them.

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