It's like they couldn't decide if it would be an android or a robot and the end result pleased no one.
The prose is right to the point, wasting no time blandly spitting out the crazy. I'm a astronaut. I don't age at a normal rate thanks to an ability to directly control the heartbeat (if you think breathing manually sucks, imagine that). Doctors, presumably, hate me. I can communicate via "electrotelephonic waves." The book does not in any way dwell on the massive societal and personal implications of all this. After all, we've got a Universe to explore!
I blast off in a rocket, destination the "Olympus Galaxy." Of course it's a solo mission, because crushing solitude will help fend off the good old space madness. This must be a government sponsored rocket, because things go wrong almost immediately. I've got to repair a fuel cell on the outside of the ship. While messing around, my "lifeline" breaks. I haven't even reached the first choice and it already looks like I'm going to be a beautiful corpse endlessly drifting through the vacuum.
"Help me, Sandra Bullshit!"
Somehow I manage to cling to the rocket and make my way back inside. Well, glad that's over. Of course I promptly fall asleep because there's no better sleep aid than nearly dying a horrible death. When I wake up I discover that the ship has drifted off course. Next thing I know a "bright object" is on a collision course. Yeah, looks like that madness is having a pretty rapid onset this time. Maybe I should have taken a class on retaining my sanity while out there instead of that electronic wave thing.
To make a short story about the same length it turns out it's a "craft" and I get swallowed up. Yeah, it's probably time for the probing/space zoo/dinner table. I meet three identical looking people, because space is all wild and crazy and man, I don't even remember which pills I took.
The truth is arguably even more amazing than what I'd been anticipating. It turns out this is a "mother ship" peopled entirely with clones created from a single human cell. They need another person to create more Humans by Xerox and it looks like I'm it.
Imagine, if you can, a whole field of identical looking sheep.
I decide to convince them that I'd be a poor candidate for this operation. After all, I nearly got myself killed screwing around with a fuel cell. Actually, instead of pointing to my dangerous ineptitude I argue that I'm a unique and special miracle and it would be bad to have copies running around. They have little sympathy for this concern, declaring that their motto is "Uniformity is Strength." I try to appeal to their good nature but am told to get into a chair. Naw, no way.
This leads to my horrible death, but at least I don't have to live to see my genetic material passed on, which is every man's worst nightmare.
I'd say this one was decent. Instead of hallucinogenic nonsense we got heavy-handed political commentary so call that one a push. Descriptive writing is not this author's strength and there was a certain bland matter-of-factness that clashed with the subject matter. Still, I'd say it's worth a look.
I was trained in rhetoric by the internet.