An interesting concept for speculative fiction involving an alternate universe crafted by an alien race but copied from bits and pieces of our universe. Even some of the sentient races and plant life mimic specimens from our dimension. But the physics of that realm defy understanding and twist sideways all familiar conventions. I was unconvinced of the protagonist's passion and devotion to his obsession. Frankly, the characters bored me. No spark of compassion flamed to life in my heart for Quinn or Sydney or Anzi. No flutter of empathy for his wife's final message squirreled away and hidden in plain sight in the archives. Much of the story was devoted to world building, and such a strange world the Tarig created in the Entire (or the All as the inhabitants sometimes refer to it). Storm walls between primacies of infinite length but finite breadth, dividing the alternate dimension from others. An endless river that is not a river flowing in one direction but connecting all regions. The bright in the sky, another river of light that never ceases, and only dims, or ebbs, every few hours. No suns, no stars, no moon, just perpetual light. The pace picked up during the last hundred pages, providing more action and improbable insights causing mind-jarring changes to well laid plans. Convenient? For the author perhaps, but not the reader. The ending felt like a train wreck written to meet a deadline that whooshed past the author while she languished in her alternate landscapes. I doubt I will continue with this series, even though several loose ends, plots and story arcs are obviously left hanging.