If the cortical swaps of “Learning to Be Me” and the tweakable ethics of “Axiomatic” thrilled you, you’ll love how Permutation City follows Paul Durham and a society of digital Copies as they stress‑test reality itself. Egan pushes computational physics and consciousness to the breaking point—when Durham launches the Autoverse and argues for dust‑theoretic immortality, it’s the same diamond‑hard, consequence‑driven speculation you enjoyed, just scaled up into a relentless, reality-questioning gauntlet.

Drawn to the identity puzzles in “Closer” and the disquieting perspective shifts of “The Safe-Deposit Box”? In Blindsight, linguist‑turned‑observer Siri Keeton joins a posthuman crew—alongside the resurrected vampire commander Jukka Sarasti—to confront the alien enigma Rorschach. Watts dissects whether awareness has any survival value, mirroring the way “Axiomatic” dissects free will: every encounter, from the Chinese Room‑like scrambler studies to the ship’s unnerving mission logs, sharpens the blade on what ‘someone’ even means.

If “Learning to Be Me” and “The Safe-Deposit Box” grabbed you with their shifting selves and replaced identities, Altered Carbon puts those stakes into a brutal noir. Ex‑Envoy Takeshi Kovacs is resleeved into a new body to solve a ‘suicide’ that may be murder, and every clue twists around what’s lost—or fabricated—when minds jump substrates. The interrogation scenes, black‑market sleeves, and stack hacks echo the creeping doubts you felt when Egan’s protagonists questioned whether the ‘original’ was still inside.

If the tight, high‑concept punches of “The Hundred‑Light‑Year Diary” and “Axiomatic” worked for you, Chiang’s collection delivers that same precision. From the causality‑bending structure of “Story of Your Life” to the unsettling ethics in “Liking What You See” and the mathematical despair of “Division by Zero,” each tale builds a meticulous thought experiment and lands it with emotional clarity—much like Egan’s best mind‑bombs, but with a different, crystalline warmth.

If you relished the causality riddles of “The Hundred‑Light‑Year Diary” and the logical rigor across Axiomatic, Anathem gives you a whole civilization of scholar‑monks—Fraa Erasmus and company—using philosophy and math to grapple with multiverse physics. As their cloistered world collides with an extraterrestrial problem, the debates on consciousness, Platonic forms, and cosmology pay off like Egan’s most intricate thought experiments, with set pieces (the geometer, the concent’s Apert) that make the abstractions viscerally real.