Steps

Steps, the debut novel from Australian author Sam A.D., was a Christmas present from a friend (he went to the book launch and I suspect I'm the only person he knows who reads novels). 

Steps is a darkly absurdist parable with a killer premise, protected by copyright separately from the text itself (I didn't know you could even do that): every person has a lifetime allocation of 60 000 000 steps. Once you've used them all, you drop dead instantly. People become obsessed with their step trackers and go to great lengths to minimise their step usage. Cars have been outlawed, so people use wheelchairs or pogo sticks, roll along the ground or stalk on stilts. The very rich pay to be carried everywhere; some selfish types bounce around in those inflatable plastic bubbles. Sex has disappeared, and people go dancing at the Forever27 club when they've had enough of life and want to go out with a bang.

Steps tracks a frenetic 24 hours in Sunshine City, the day of the annual lottery when some lucky souls will win extra steps, or the chance for sex, and everyone has their trackers paused so they can enjoy an hour's free dancing. Agnes and Aksel are new friends; teens Elio and Sarita are freshly in love; gross Derek can steal others' steps; the conniving mayor, Turquoise, has her own sinister agenda.

Steps packs an incredible amount of violence and action into less than 150 pages, and it seems to have been written with an eye to screen adaptation. There are a few holes in the world-building (there are no children in the story, and I wonder how they're cared for) but I suspect we're not intended to examine the logic of the plot too closely. It's a rollicking, no holds barred thought experiment, with some unexpected consequences.