We’ve had some terrifically creative sci-fi and dystopian submissions lately here at Bookshelfie, and today I’m reviewing another, this time with a horror twist. Let me start by saying what Whisper Machine: Volume 1 by W.G. Mans does exceptionally well: it understands that science fiction’s greatest power isn’t predicting the future, it’s interrogating the present. This book is basically a collection of five novellas that function less like a traditional collection and more like a concept album, each track exploring a different frequency of the same unsettling hum, the stories themselves each presented in three “fragments”.
The collection opens with “Processed,” where a man named Brent awakens strapped to a moving wall alongside hundreds of captives in what appears to be a massive blood-harvesting facility. From there, we move to “The Search Engine,” a live-broadcast experiment featuring an omniscient machine that gradually reveals its audience as the true subjects. “Population… Zero” shifts to rural Malawi, where villagers endure a mysterious two-hour visitation every five years. In “5%,” a deep-sea research crew discovers an unknown species and must decide between scientific exploitation and caution. The collection closes with “Avtrykk i Snøen” (Footprints in the Snow), following a wanderer and his dog across frozen, post-apocalyptic Norway. Much like one of my favorite shows, Black Mirror, each story operates as a standalone piece while exploring similar themes.
Processed is a masterclass in claustrophobic storytelling, and reading it felt like vicariously experiencing a nightmare that refuses to end. It begins as Brent awakens “to the scraping of metal” and “muffled pleads for help,” strapped to a moving wall beside strangers whose languages he can barely understand. From that moment, the story traps the reader as securely as its characters, drawing horror not from monsters but from the machinery of captivity itself—the hums, the hisses, the cruelty of the unknown. Mans trusts us to sit in that discomfort, and it pays off. The needle sequence is particularly horrifying, “The needle strikes. It pierces deep into my arm”, reminding me of that scene in The War of the Worlds where they get kidnapped by that Martian tripod, or even something from Kafka. Needless to say, it’s probably not for the faint-hearted.
The collection’s structure deserves particular attention. Moving from Processed into The Search Engine creates a interesting pivot, from bodily autonomy under siege to intellectual freedom, or rather, its illusion. Where Processed traps the flesh, The Search Engine traps the mind. The story’s live-broadcast premise, in which a host fields questions from viewers to a machine that can answer anything, is pretty interesting, exposing our modern faith in LLMs. It reminded me a bit of the Doctor Who episode “Bad Wolf,” where contestants in a futuristic Big Brother-style reality show don’t realise their lives are being broadcast. The host, Cole Philipps, is actually quite funny—his charm and humour make the show’s descent into horror even more disturbing.
The closing novella, Avtrykk i Snøen (“Footprints in the Snow”), provides a necessary tonal change after the intensity of the preceding tales. Where the earlier stories are claustrophobic, filled with metallic hisses and futuristic technology, this one opens into an expanse of silence. Mans pares his prose down to something skeletal, “The howling wind has subsided. There’s a deep, vast silence pressing against the walls of the tent.” This was probably my favourite story in the collection, as I really enjoyed the change of scenery. The story follows a nameless wanderer and his cute canine companion, Lys, as they trek across a frozen Norway in search of a rumoured settlement, evoking Cormac McCarthy’s The Road or something.
Although it didn’t bother mind that much, I do feel some stories—particularly “Processed”—could have benefited from tighter editing. Certain sequences, while atmospheric, extended past the point of maximum impact. I also found the font choice somewhat difficult on the eyes during longer reading sessions and think a more larger typeface would have improved readability. Lastly, while generally well-edited, I did notice a few grammar and spelling problems, but nothing that really inhibited my enjoyment significantly. More than anything, I really appreciated how Mans throws us into the action in each of the stories, ensuring that the reader isn’t waiting for something exciting to happen. It’s also a nice addition that Mans included an epilogue in which he detailed some info behind the intent of the stories, as this helped me understand them a bit more.
Overall, for fans of Black Mirror, Stephen King, or contemporary horror-tinged sci-fi, this collection is well worth your time. I especially really enjoyed the balance between different forms of horror, stories like Processed and Avtrykk i Snøen showing Mans’ range. It’s rare to find a collection that feels both cinematic and like it has something to say, but Whisper Machine manages to disturb, provoke, and linger long after the final page.
Final Verdict: An ambitious, unsettling, and almost always gripping debut collection. If you’re looking for straightforward adventure, look elsewhere. If you want speculative fiction that makes you question the systems you interact with daily—and probably grips you by the throat will doing it—then Whisper Machine delivers exactly what it says on the tin.
You can read Whisper Machine for free on Kindle Unlimited here!
