Fifty Degrees Below by Kim Stanley Robinson

The thing is, he thought as he waited, nobody knows you. No one can. Even if you spend almost the entirety of every day with someone, and there were people like that -- even then, no. Everyone lived alone in the end, not just in their heads but even in their physical routines. Human contacts were parcellated, to use a term from brain science or systems theory; parcelled out. There were:

1. the people you lived with, if you did; that was about a hundred hours a week, half of them asleep;
   
2. the people you worked with, that was forty hours a week, give or take;
   
3. the people you played with, that would be some portion of the thirty or so hours left in a week;
   
4. then there were the strangers you spent time with in transport, eating out or so on. This would be added to an already full calendar according to Frank's calculations so far, suggesting they were all living more hours a week than actually existed, which felt right. In any case, a normal life was split out into different groups that never met; and so no one knew you in your entirety except you yourself.
   

One could, therefore:

1. pursue a project in paleolithic living,
   
2. change the weather
   
3. attempt to restructure your profession, and
   
4. be happy,

all at once. although not simultaneously, but moving from one thing to another, among different populations; behaving as if a different person in each situation. It could be done, because there were no witnesses. No one saw enough to witness your life and put it all together.

p. 57