The trouble with most science fiction is that it’s set up so that it can’t test itself against anything real. The Breach is an exception. It’s about steeplejacking, and how men haze each other to know they can risk working together on difficult and dangerous physical tasks. (“Their toxic masculinity built your house”, as MT Hill, a pleasant young man, would surely never say.) With magnificent arrogance, Hill creates a future sustained not by any appeal to likelihood, but by the pure power of his prose.