It would be difficult to argue against the fact that Joss Whedon, and in this specific case, Dollhouse, has tackled some heavy issues. One of those that may not be so obvious is the ethics of human cloning. Absent from direct reference in the text as it may be, according to Dyens’ definition of clone in “The Rise of Cultural Bodies” from Metal and Flesh: The Evolution of Man, Whedon’s dolls are in fact clones.

                “A clone, for example, is a plastic body, for it does not exist in a biological world.” (58) Whedon’s dolls are more than just plastic bodies, they are bodies imprinted with the personalities, skills and memories of one or any number of other individuals at a time. A clone is “a boundless body, fundamentally cultural, a living form without biological integrity, unstable and reproducible. Although made of genes, the clone is an ‘agenetic’ being, its genetic material having been “grown” independent of any normal biological process.” (58) Although the dolls of Dollhouse were at one point human beings, in being transformed into the blank slate existence that is their day to day in the dollhouse, they become plasticised; plastic bodies to be used as vessels for clones and tools for missions and assignments. They are stripped of their biology, and are used as clones on a daily basis. Essentially, they are as plastic as re-writable C.D’s; they are a clone of a different person every day.

                So they’re clones. But, how does Whedon negotiate the ethics of human cloning? Are clones necessary? What purpose(s) do they serve? Who do they serve? Is this a valuable science, or does the dominance of capitalism in this cloning venture strip it of any possible value? What about God? Where is He? Is He dead? Possibly the most interesting thing about this ethical negotiation is the fact that there is no wrong or right side. In fact, each side has its corruptions, its faults and its earnest participators; in effect, Dollhouse presents a pros and cons situation. Whedon, an open atheist (one of the many reasons I’m a big fan of him personally, as well as of his work), often leaves God out of the equation. That isn’t to say that the concept never comes up, but the humans in the story are left to negotiate the pros and cons themselves. This is a responsible move on the part of the show, since it strips the clone debate of one of its most common proponents. ‘The religion thing.’ Humanity is left to determine right and wrong in terms of humanity, instead of in worrying about what their actions will mean in the afterlife. Tahmoh Penniket’s persistently, albeit fairly unenthusiastic F.B.I agent initially occupies the anti-dollhouse (anti-cloning) position. As such he is driven to stop what he is convinced is a crime against ethics and human rights. However, as fans of the show know, he eventually starts working for the ‘enemy.’ Maybe it’s just to get inside info, and maybe only to rescue Echo, but as season 2 continues he seems to get more and more comfortable. On the inside of the dollhouse, they have a few jerks and assholes, but all and all they are a fairly likeable crew of misfit geniuses , security specialists and savvy business people. They seem to earnestly believe in what they’re doing, and do what they can to make sure the dollhouse stays standing on two feet. But, just what is it that they are doing?

                They are perpetrators in capitalism, trying to pass their work off as worthwhile and important to individuals and humanity alike. Not to generalize, but capitalism is often seen as something that veers more toward the unethical side of life. The roots of the Dollhouse, however, are firmly planted in the dirt that is our capitalist system. The dolls (or clones) are prostituted out to rich business people, celebrities, the spoiled offspring of those people, or just regular folks with a lot of money to burn. The point is that the cloning is done for a price. The dollhouse is a business. What then, of human cloning? Like many medical revelations, it may save lives and it may do good, but at what cost? It first and foremost serves the rich, the elite, and those who are able to circumvent the laws of society, or pay for privilege. Like medicine and pharmaceuticals have become a massive industry (in the U.S especially), the event of human clones is likely to only exacerbate matters.

                Despite the fact that the dollhouse is rooted in evil, it’s filled with good, and ambitions of good and greatness. Thus, there is an ambivalence being put forth pertaining to how we, the audience, are supposed to feel about the dollhouse. There is a lot to fear and be apprehensive about, but there is also a lot to explore and learn about. The dollhouse, and in this case, human cloning, is not something to be written off as pure evil, or even pure risk. There is a possibility for goodness, if it’s approached in the proper way. Although just an initial and fairly shallow examination of Dollhouse’s treatment of the cloning debate, I hope to have opened a possible avenue of thought about the show and about cloning. After all, how deeply can one explore such a complex issue and such a complex show while doing them both justice in a brief blog post.

            Smith-Windsor not only loves her daughter dearly, even when she is part machine, but she simultaneously holds conflicting emotions toward the machines that make that love a possibility for the future. Had Smith-Windsor not acknowledged that she felt her daughter was in fact part machine, it would be of little consequence. However, it is that very acknowledgment that affirms that love between human and machine is entirely possible.

                        “I hold my child for the first time. She is naked, against my chest.

                        Her ventilator curls around my neck, taped to my shoulder, disappears

                        inside her. There are other tubes, too, taped to my other limbs by

                        peach-coloured surgical tape. Beside me, another mother’s baby dies.” (281)

This passage simultaneously accomplishes several things. First, it confirms the child’s cyborg state of being. The ventilator, keeping her alive, literally disappears inside of her. The fact that it is in fact keeping her alive is affirmed through juxtaposition of life and death with the tragic death of a nearby child. Finally, the motherly love and connection is made evident, and the machine is humanized. Although aspects of the passage seem alien and tragic: the ventilator, the death, so too does the passage seem familiar and beautiful. The ventilator curls around her neck, as if a part of her daughter, becoming one with her mother. The fact that it “curls” suggests a softness characteristic of any mother holding her baby daughter, rather than restriction and ‘un-welcomeness.’ The machine is acknowledged as a part of her child, and as a necessity of life, but also as a part of the love that the two share. The ventilator connects them, as they are wrapped around and taped to each other.

            As I said, she’s also somewhat sceptical, if not a tad resentful toward the technology keeping her child alive. “The day I gave birth to a cyborg, I began to understand how every human being had become a collaboration of machinic and biological matter. The human condition is mediated by technology.”(284) Despite acknowledging the fact that this is a current human condition, there is also an imperative in Smith-Windsor’s work to remain cautious of that very technology through which we all live our lives to varying degrees. Of course, she would not have given her daughter up, no matter what. But, the fact that for that period in her daughter’s life, she was literally cyborg is somewhat a cause for alarm. She was conflicted. She loved the biology of her daughter, but wished away the machines. However, acknowledging her daughter as cyborg also affirms that fact that she did, and probably we all have or could love a machine.

            Perhaps similar things are happening with John Connor. Maybe his love for the biology, however shallow it may be, of Summer Glau in the Sarah Connor series is why he lives with her machine aspects. However, the content of the series and of the Terminator films says otherwise. As the future saviour of humanity, John has an intricate, and some may dare say intimate knowledge of the workings of machines. He has an ability with and knowledge of machines akin to James Bond’s flare for the female. He knows how to push their buttons. Furthermore, his relationship with Arnold in Terminator 2 is one where he plays father and son simultaneously. He teaches Arnold’s terminator, using his ability with machines, how to become the perfect object of and for his affection. Similarly, his relationship with Glau’s terminator on the series would have ended if it were not for the love he had for her. He takes life away from her when making a choice for his and thus the world’s safety, and chooses to give it back because of his love for her. His ability to do so indicates his relationship with the machinic qualities within her, and the fact that he does so is indicative of his love for her. A human can love a machine.

            In an era that is increasingly technological, it seems entirely possible that cybogs will eventually be created specifically for the purposes of filling voids in human companionship. Not of a sexual nature, or only of a sexual nature (and it’s important to note that this sort of human on machine love is not only a reality, but also quite common – think vibrators, Fleshlights, and sex dolls), but machines will be created for love. Humans have shown the capacity to love semi-machines already, such as Smith-Windsor did, but also people with pacemakers, prosthetic limbs and the like will sometimes see themselves as cyborgs, and often also be loved. Kevin Warwick’s wife surely still loves him, if she ever did. It’s only a matter of time until one may be able to purchase the first love bot.

          In Donna Haraway’s “A Manifesto for Cyborgs,” she references the possibility of an animal (other than human) based cyborg. She cites the breakdown of the boundary between human and animal organisms as pleasurable for “many branches of feminist culture,” (29) and states that in her ironically created late twentieth century, “the boundary between human and animal is thoroughly breached.” (29) Although she is not directly referencing the cyborg as it is most popularly known, but rather she uses it as a jumping off point for larger political issues. Her willingness and need to make the distinction is representative of the fact that the society that she is writing in does not. She is attempting to break existing boundaries. Humanity sees animals as other. Humanity sees technology as other. In our anthropocentric sensibility we (humanity) tend to see ourselves as central. Nature and technology, thus subject to our control and influence.

          Accordingly most cyborgs of fiction are human in their origin. Blade Runner, Star Trek, Robocop, Terminator, Battlestar Galactica; these are the cyborg works that we perhaps know best.  However, there exist cyborgs in fiction and in real life that are not human. There are animal/machine combos, but we somehow see them as less than cyborg because of their animal nature. Kevin Warwick’s desire for transformation is to some a frightening thing. However, perhaps more frightening are the recent developments for the U.S military from D.A.R.P.A (Defence Advanced Research Project Agency), who plan to develop the technology to control the movements of sharks and decode their perceptions (http://www.livescience.com/technology/060307_shark_implant.html). This will allow the military to gain recognisance by remotely controlling the sharks’ movements, and accessing their sensory experiences. Since sharks have the ability to sense electro-magnetic pulses this will open up many possibilities to the military. Researchers have also used implants to explore the brain of a cat, to experience what it sees, and implanted chips in birds to warn of Avian flu. Because Warwick is human however, his experiments are somehow viewed as more significant. For example, “Kevin’s work is frequently referred to by other authors,” (http://www.kevinwarwick.com/index.asp) which is something missing from the shark experiments. He sees himself as the future. Then what of the sharks? The sharks, once fully ‘cyborgianized,’ will be used by the military, completely controlled, as if they were little more than machines. They will be devoid of their biology in the eyes of the military, exploited for their machine features. They will not be cyborgs, but rather simple machines.

          We3 (Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely, 2005) is an excellent graphic novel that serves as a fictional example, not only of cyborg animals, but of the anthropocentric, patriarchal interest in them. In it animal cyborgs are represented as more human than the humans. Although this technique could be read as anthropocentric, since the animals are given the ability to speak through their machinery and are made much more sympathetic than any human character, it also helps to detract from the assumed importance and centrality of humanity’s role in the story, and in the mythology of cyborgs. The protagonists, a dog, a cat and a rabbit, are given sophisticated exoskeletons by the military. They are jacked in to the animals’ brains, giving the animals the ability to control complex weaponry, speak, and understand sophisticated mission assignments. The 3, like the plans that the military has for sharks, are exploited by the U.S and viewed as nothing more than weapons in themselves. In other words, they are stripped by the patriarchy, which the military represents (as it so often does), of their organic nature. They are seen as disposable machines. Not as cyborgs, but as spare parts. Once the 3 realize this however, as the military does eventually attempt to dispose of them, they flee. In their journey to be free, they experience connection with each other, sadness, and loss, and the reader is meant to experience it with them (I did). We get a glimpse of their past (through ‘flash back’ type techniques), their victimization, and finally their rescue. They are saved by a kind homeless man. Significantly, the character that is the least representative of society, and of patriarchy, is the one who is most able to recognize the animals not as machines, but as sentient and loving creatures; a happy ending after all. (If you haven’t read We3, treat yourself.)

          Not only does humanity strip technology of significance until it directly alters our lives, as a society we also often strip the animal world of their biological significance. They are living creatures, and they can be cyborgs too. An animal cyborg doesn’t transform the animal into machine, and it is no less biological than a humanoid cyborg. Animals are not disposable, and cyborgs certainly aren’t.

This weeks’ food for thought:

 Does using a machine (laptop) to express my thoughts make me a momentary cyborg?

          Video game and computer/technology addictions are a growing concern in the public sphere and media. According to a CBS news story, most individuals that succumb to video game addiction are teenagers (http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2007/06/21/health/main2965003.shtml), although adults are also affected: “mostly men, who say that video game addiction cost them their jobs, family lives and self esteem.” A news story from 2006 states that a father beat his 17 month old child to death after she broke his video game system (http://www.olganon.org/?q=node/4855), thus enforcing the fact that the reality of the video game world has perhaps already (for some) overcome the reality or appeal of the real world. So much so that people are sometimes willing to destroy their real lives for their artificial ones.  As further proof that video game addiction is increasingly a public concern, that news story was taken from the website “Online Gamers Anonymous,” run by gaming victims for gaming victims. The horror stories on the site are endless, but what is clear within them is that a disconnection from and disconcert for the real world is prevalent in each video game addict. They favour and choose the artificial world of the game, which for them, may not be artificial at all. A news story posted on Youtube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8hfK3RQs2g) features a young British boy, who when asked why he speaks with an American accent when he plays his online game replies “it’s like when you move to a new country or something, you just end up picking it up.” The game world is likened to real world experience; entering the game world is compared to physically moving to a new country.

          Cyberpunk predicted a similar (albeit more advanced) future. As Lia M. Hotchkiss describes in the article “Still in the Game,” “cyberpunk expresses ambivalence toward technological transcendence: over and against the thrill of escape lies the fear of being absorbed by the very technology facilitating that escape from the body.” Thus, the dystopic future that cyberpunk often describes has, at least in this way, already been realized. The body has yet to physically join machines in game play, at least on a massive scale, but it would seem that that development is right around the corner. As in Project Natal, as the Youtube video states, “You are the controller.” Thus, the player is effectively a part of the game in previously unprecedented ways. The binary of game/player is already becoming blurred as we enter further into the realm of the postmodern. The player is now a part of the game. As escape from the body becomes more of a reality, so does the fear of being absorbed in the technology facilitating it. As I’ve discussed above, people are absorbed in and addicted to the escape that video games provide. Even if the future has yet to be fully realized, and we have yet to physically enter an artificial reality, some people are already absorbed to a point where (I reiterate, for some) fear may be justified.

          As cyberpunk and our own developing games suggest, more realistic games featuring more realistic worlds are right around the corner. eXistenZ (David Cronenberg, 1999) offers up a future where the game literally plugs into the body, and the player literally enters into the game world. The film suggests through the lethal protests of the realists that game culture has in fact started to step in for the real world on a massive scale. People who are unhappy with their real lives no longer have to escape while simply being immersed into the flickering lights on a screen (however realistic the graphics may seem), they can literally and physically become a part of a new and different world. Of course, the consequences are dire. People are killed left and right in the film, even if we’re never certain whether they’re being killed in ‘real life.’ However, they’re killed in so many realities that one of them will eventually be real. In a classically cyberpunk manner, reality and the game become blurred together. Not to the mere point where a player acts as a controller, but where real life can no longer be recognized. The last phrase uttered in the film is, significantly, “are we still in the game?”

          We are on a path that leads to eXistenZ. We will put our actual existence aside in favour of something new, and seemingly better. For some, this is already happening to varying degrees. People are addicted because it’s an escape. People are addicted because they want something better. People are addicted. As video games continue to develop, we should perhaps take these issues more seriously; because the more realistic the artificial comes, the more people are going to lose themselves to it.  As was also discussed above, loosing yourself to the artificial seems to be, more often than not, a bad thing.

          Hanson’s ultimate goal is to end up on the far side of the supposed “Uncanny Valley” where the android becomes perfectly human-like, and again becomes likeable.  According to the Dan Ferber article “Getting Too Real?”  (http://www3.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=197162) Hanson’s goal is to defeat what he sees as the resistance of creating realistic robots by indeed creating a realistic, likeable robot “friend.” Moreover, his ultimate goal is not only to create such an android, but to reach a point where the dream of “letting it loose” becomes a reality.  According to the article, Hanson says that “humans are facing an identity crisis – one that just a few people know about but many sense…” that is that “…if we can mechanize what makes us human, that will make us feel like a mechanism.” Despite working to overcome the Valley, these statements seem to link him to a belief in the theory. Although he does take a different approach to interpreting the data, saying that if we can in fact re-create humanity then that will take away our “special-ness.” Human beings are quick to give ourselves a centralized position within the world, but if we can create something that is equally human to us, we are no longer special or central. Furthermore, as Jason Sperb says in the essay “Scarring the New Flesh,” “the act of representation becomes inseparable from the act of being.” Although referring to Videodrome (David Cronenberg, 1983) and viewership, this idea also applies here. Once the representation becomes full (i.e. the simulacra is complete) comes the death of the real. Perhaps without seeing it, this is a part of what we all fear in the “Uncanny Valley.”

          Hanson’s newest creation is a step back from his past efforts to create the most human looking androids, perhaps to keep from falling into the Valley. Under the heading “The Next Step in Human Evolution Isn’t Human,” (on the website http://www.hansonrobotics.com/robots.html) Hanson’s creative philosophy has clearly not forgotten the “Uncanny Valley.” With the ability to recognize faces and remember names, the Zeno robot is now being marketed for 1500 dollars U.S. Unlike Hanson’s past robots, such as Albert-Hubo (a lifelike re-creation of Albert Einstein), and Philip K. Dick which is a life size replica of the author with an added attempt at re-creating Dick’s personality, the Zeno robot takes a  step back in its human appearance for a more cartoony look. As such, he is one of the only robotic creations from Hanson’s company to actually enter onto the public market. Perhaps this is because of his appeal and overall cuteness factor, achieved in stepping away from the “Uncanny Valley.”

          A human representation needs to reach the proper balance of human-ness and fake-ness to retain public interest and appeal, or become perfectly human. This can be tied into the cinematic world of animation, for instance in the film Final Fantasy: the Spirits Within (Hironobu Sakaguchi, 2001). The film, a large step forward in the development of animation, attempts to create human appearing animated characters. With a “rotten” rating of only 44% on “Rottentomatoes.com” there is clearly something missing in the film, whether it is a loss of appeal from the characters, or a poorly written script and/or executed film.  With a cast of talented and for the most part well known actors voicing the characters in the film, there should be no trouble in understanding their emotions, or finding some degree of relation with them. However, at least for this spectator, no such things were achieved.

          At least three of the 4 hypotheses of the “Uncanny Valley” can be applied to the film as reasoning for this lack of appeal. Perhaps the biggest problem with the ‘human representation’ of the film is the “mismatch of cue realism.” We expect, since the characters look and sound as human as they do, for them to move in a more humanly way. However, the romantic tension between Aki and Gray would often be unnoticeable were it not for the inflection in voice, and of course the dialogue. Furthermore, the sarcastic quips of the character Neil, an area in which actor Steve Buscemi typically excels, are rarely humorous; the things being lost from the performance ultimately being the actions of and the look on Buscemi’s face, which fail to be transferred to this new form of animation.  The “contribution of the eyes” may come into play here as well. Although remarkably life-like, one could indeed argue that they are simply not life-like enough. Rather than becoming involved in the film one becomes wrapped up in how phony the characters look, purely because of the attempts to make them look so real. That is, no one will ever say that Finding Nemo (Andrew Stanton, 2003) looks phony, and the fish eyes don’t look human enough, because there existed no conscious effort on the part of Pixar to make them look believably human.  Furthermore, the “role of presence” becomes relevant. The characters in Final Fantasy look human, and not human enough. This is a fact that may confuse the spectator. The fourth hypothesis, “cultural habitation” does not enter into the film in such a large way as the others. Perhaps we’re entering into a world where ‘artificial human beings’ or artificial representations of human beings are becoming more common. With regard to this film, it would seem that the “Uncanny Valley” is still relevant however.

          It would seem that there exits at least some proof in favour of the “Uncanny Valley.” The fact that there have been very few animated films to follow in the footsteps of Final Fantasy is further testament to the criticism and possible uncanny value of the film. Until we can create perfectly human appearing animations, or androids, it would seem that real human beings will remain largely ‘en mode.’ That is, aside from those representations which embrace the artificiality of representation, such as more popular animated films like Finding Nemo or David Hanson’s newest robot creation Zeno.

          Manovich describes several methods whereby the digital is already having direct effects on the way that we live, the first of which is video surveillance. He describes video surveillance cameras as turning the physical space, and those within it, into data. As habitants in a world where Big Brother may always be watching, we exist here in the “real world” and in Big Brother’s eyes. Skipping ahead, the third is that of “computer/video displays,” (76) which inform our world now more than ever. Digital billboards are a common site these days, as are televisions in restaurants, airports, hotel lobbies, etc. Computer screens playing advertisements on a loop are even a common site in public restrooms, situating themselves above urinals and the like.

          Back to the second, it is that of “cellspace technologies,” (76) where people are no longer turned into data, but actually extract data and bring it into their space. Now, more than at the time of Manovich’s writing, almost everyone carries a cellular device, which, in seconds can access nearly any piece of information from the internet, inform us of our exact whereabouts by way of G.P.S, or put us in touch with someone who supposedly inhabits an entirely different space. Adding “layers onto the physical space,” (78) cellspace technologies, like the aforementioned technologies, augment the space in which we live. This brings Manovich to designate the term “augmented space” (78) to indicate this newly created space in which we live.

          Thus, we can understand this “new space” not as an entirely new space at all, but rather as our old space with a lot of new additions. We may perceive it as new because it is vastly different, but it is in fact only an augmented space. The term “augmented” is an excellent choice of words on the part of Manovich, because although it implies that a positive improvement over the old space has taken place, it does not impose that way of thought. It is simply augmented in the way that technology has augmented every faction of Western human life. Instead of clunky desktop computers, we now save desk space with laptops or ultra-thin screens. The sleek new design, and resolution of television displays augments the look of our living room, which otherwise remains the same. Maybe it’s not better, but in looking at it from the perspective of a progressive technology, it’s hard to see it as anything but augmented. Very simply put, layers of data are added to our world, nothing is taken away.

          Manovich discusses briefly the evolution from virtual reality into augmented space, which actually greatly helps in clarifying and understanding the concept of augmented space in itself. He describes the experience of watching a movie in a theatre, or on a big screen TV as immersing the viewer into a virtual space, and successfully (nearly) removing them from their physical space. (79) However, the new technologies available today, making screens smaller, means that people are able and do watch films on the screens of their cell phones, iPods, etc. In doing so, the viewer is still “largely present in the physical space,” (79) adding to their experience, but not removing them from it.  This perfectly encapsulates the idea of augmented space, while simultaneously making the benefit of it ambiguous. Certainly our experience of and in space is augmented, but arguably the experience of the film is lessened. The viewing of a film, something once thought of as an event, as a night out, or an evening in, can and is experienced on the way to work or on lunch break in the cafeteria. Digital experiences now, as a part of the world, rather than as a separate world, are something to be incorporated into our everyday existence, and thus basically homogenized and forgotten.  Architecture, for instance, is now in the opinion of Manovich, inescapably affected by the existence and progress of augmented space; for better or worse.

          Further illustrating this idea of augmented space as an ambiguous concept, and as a step ahead of virtual reality, the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode “i Robot…You Jane” (from season 1, 1997) is an interesting cultural artefact to discuss here. Although these concepts can often be exemplified by a walk down a downtown street, they also pervade popular culture. This episode of Buffy, preceding the Manovich article by 5 years, does just that. In it, a powerful demon by the name of Moloch enters into the cyber world, befriending the character Willow and her fellow internet geeks through online chatting. However, what begins as the creation of what is essentially a fantasy, that is, Willow all but falls in love with the demon that passes himself off as a teenage boy in another town, becomes a very real part of reality. Moloch began as merely a virtual nemesis, drawing the internet geeks further and further into the virtual world of the computer. However, in doing so, he’s able to manipulate them into creating a corporeal body for him to inhabit. Thus, he successfully enters into the real world, augmenting real space, and adding a digital layer (himself) onto it. In doing so, he certainly adds something to the physical space in which Buffy and her friends exist, but in this instance augmented space is not something that augments space in a positive way. Buffy and co. see augmented space as something to be stopped, and they do so accordingly. This very quick shift from virtual enemy to augmented reality perfectly encapsulates not only Manovich’s theory of augmented reality, but also the very fast and somewhat alarming rate at which it is occurring.

          Whether good or bad, augmented reality is inescapably a reality. We do live under video surveillance, carry cell phones almost 24/7, are bombarded constantly with computer and video screens and we live from our laptops, our I.M’s and our emails. Many people now organize their lives with and around technology, a digital space, or an augmented space was inevitable.

“Natural” (52) or I Am What I Am

          For Peters, the body in its natural state is one that remains unaffected by technology directly. Of course, he argues, that technology has always informed us what counts as a body. Perhaps we’re living in the wrong “bodies,” or perhaps or “bodies” are not bodies. Maybe we only think they are because that’s what we’ve been programmed to think. Maybe we live in the matrix. The point is that this is probably entirely true, and interesting to think about on a more philosophical level. Perhaps we’re only now coming into the realization that all of our bodies are un-evolved and incomplete, whether we’re differently able or not. Maybe the evolution of technology into our bodies is just as natural as when the first organisms stepped out of the ocean and evolved into land animals. It’s possible that the term natural doesn’t fit here. Who can say what is natural?

“Modified” (53) (I.E. Ch-ch-ch-changes)

          This body is exactly what it sounds like. However, the modifications are not necessarily integral or permanent, and they could have taken place out of necessity or out of commodity (53). Soon, once the sorts of technological modifications that exist now become cheaper, that idea of ‘commodity’ will probably spin out of control. One can realistically imagine a future where we are all literally plugging ourselves into computers in a way that we’ve only seen in films and literature so far. This is before the ‘two-become-one’ and we are still just humans attached to technology. We can always unplug, and are just ‘adding on’ or ‘upgrading.’

“Enhanced” (54): Running Out of Gas

          To carry that idea of upgrading a little further comes the “enhanced body” (54).  The human/technology divide is becoming more blurred here, and once ‘enhanced’ the option for just un-plugging and continuing your life as a more ‘natural’ human is less possible. The human body, as Peters puts it, is given “new kinds of possibilities,” (55) with technological implants. Here’s where he, and probably most people who would ever realistically be faced with such options, would begin to have problems. Is it wrong, as a human, to become part machine? Are cyborgs better left in science fiction? Will we lose all conception of our identity and self when we merge with machines? Will technology take over our minds like some sort of brain-controlling parasites? Maybe it will; maybe not. The anxieties articulated by Peters, and the works of fiction that he draws from in the article, tend to lean toward these possibilities. Maybe that’s just because we’re all, at heart, pessimists, or maybe it’s just because this makes for better reading on both a fiction and non-fiction scale. However, as science is already doing, it’s important to weigh the benefits. Although most people probably won’t want in on the trial runs of technologically enhanced body parts, the strides that could be made at an individual and global level are infinite. Maybe in the future, when our bodies are nothing more than floating balls of energy we’ll look back and have a hard time believing that we were once as we are now. Just as certain people still have a hard time believing that we indeed evolved ‘from monkeys.’

“Cyber Body,” (56) Cyber Mind

          Here, there are no boundaries left to be blurred. These bodies have become complete technological entities. The evolution has become complete, and we have entered into the future of the race. Unlike the other body types, this fourth type still only exists in the world of fiction. As the previous three develop however, this fourth becomes more and more a  real possibility. Of course, it’s still a long time coming.

Conclusion

          All in all Peters’ article carries with it an overall tone of apprehension and anxiety, despite a genuine interest. He leaves readers, urging them to keep a critical eye on the evolution of technology, and warns that we may be left with “digital bodies suited only to a virtual world” (57) if we do not approach these developments with apprehension. The question is then, should we just dive in to this pool of battery acid to either be burned up as the biological beings we are, un-belonging to this new world, or are we just as likely get a charge? Maybe there is a lot to be optimistic about…then again, maybe not.

            To begin with, Mitchell Hundred, hero of the Ex Machina comic book series, would not be in power over the city of New York if it were not for his power over the technological. It was his ability to control machines with his mind that allowed him to save one of the two towers on Sept 11 2001 and thus put himself into a position of popularity. He then leveraged that popularity in an election to win the seat of mayor. Better intentioned than the description may make it seem, technology earned his entry into office. Once there however, his key problems are all heavily technology based. For instance, the plough crisis crippling New Yorkers would not have been possible without a dependence on those ploughs. The only reason that the crazed student is able to shut the city down by disabling a couple of ploughs is indicative of society’s complete dependency on technology. Furthermore, Mitchell himself is dependent on his control over technology to do his job. Despite the fact that he is constantly reminded to keep his “Great Machine” abilities under wrap, he’s forever using them, or is simply affected by them. For instance, when a man makes an attempt on his life, he’s forced to jam the gun. Also, when he meets with a fellow politician who attempts to record their conversation, he’s able to hear the recorder. The relationship he has with technology in his work is unavoidable.

            Jeffrey Sconce, in his acknowledgments of the power of technology in “Tulip Theory,” seems to be the most bitter about it. Like Brian K. Vaughan shows with Mitchell Hundred’s daily escapades in office, Sconce is also of the opinion that work and technology are increasingly intertwined. This is especially true, for him, in the field of academia. With the introduction of “new media” and new media studies in universities, technology has played an increasingly important role in university departments. Academia is being increasingly ‘vaporised.’ That is, technology is a vaporous affair, where things come into existence to incite excitement and much writing and discussion only to disappear without leaving a lasting or meaningful mark. Now, academia too is becoming a vapour field. Sconce writes about how new media theory is growing at a faster rate than new media itself, and how writing theory in a quickly changing field can prove rather vaporous itself. Theories become outdated before they can be published and disproven before they can be proven. For Sconce, the world of academia has become an increasingly technological one, where snappy titles and money making play more important roles in university departments than knowledge and learning. Sconce associates technology with fickleness and fluidity, and in many ways it’s both. What is important to be taken out of it is, whether people like it or not, technology and work are becoming increasingly woven together.

            Despite the different descriptions that Aronowitz gives on the relationship of technology to modern culture, he seems to believe more than anything that “modern culture views technology as a regime of powerful tools by which human purposes may be served.” (135)We have become a “technoculture,” (136) where those discourses of technology and culture have become inseparable. It’s no coincidence that “teledildonics” (136) is probably getting closer and closer to creating actual sexbots – and limiting the distance required in the teledildonics that Aronowitz describes. We are closer and closer to literally and directly having sex with machine prostitutes; the world’s oldest profession is coming back in a very new way. Cybernetics is evolving, and the relationship between humans and technology is evolving. It’s becoming more immediate, more involving, and less and less avoidable. As Vaughan and Sconce have already affirmed, we are inextricably linked to technology, for better and worse.

           We depend on technology; it no longer depends on us. We have created it, and it has emerged in our world as something powerful, and essentially uncontrollable. We drive it, we research with it, we watch it for entertainment, we ride it to work and we make love to it before we go to sleep. It’s an increasingly technological world, and especially in considering our work, we need it more than it needs us.

“Just because I’m carrying the joy of killing your family inside me, doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends.”                            -Sid 6.7

          Of course, it’s more than a stretch to say that people were ever afraid of a virtual ‘god’ invading their phone lines. It’s also hard to say that there ever existed any concern that a virtually created bad guy created out of a cocktail of the minds of 150 serial killers and psychos will inject himself from his virtual world into a synthetic android body and start killing people in the flesh (yet!). Of course, that is the plot of this underrated gem, where Russell Crowe plays the part of the sadistic Sid 6.7. Denzel Washington plays Parker Barnes, an ex cop-turned prisoner who lost his badge, and a bit of his mind when his wife and child were murdered years before the film begins. Assigned to test this new, police training virtual reality, he is the only prisoner who can take down Sid. As an added twist, one of Sid’s personalities is the murderer of Barnes’ wife and child. Thus, when Sid escapes, Barnes is freed in exchange for his capture.

“How are the wife and kids? Still dead, huh? Well… that’s reality for ya!”                                                               -Sid 6.7

          Anne Balsamo says in her article “The Virtual Body in Cyberspace” that “what is becoming increasingly clear in encounters with virtual reality applications is that visualization technologies no longer simply mimic or represent reality – they virtually recreate it.”(125) In The Lawnmower Man Brett Leonard’s representation of virtual reality is one that transcends the real world. It may appear to some as a crude, semi-representation of reality, only with flying cars and bodies of metallic goo, but the sensations that people seem to feel when inside it seem superior to those within the real world. Dr. Angelo cannot resist his addiction to the virtual, nor can Jobe. Even when Jobe brings Marnie into the virtual world, her pleasure seems greater than real pleasure, and her fear and pain worse than those in reality.

          In Virtuosity the virtual world is almost identical to the real. The only difference in this created world is the fact that it has, actually, been created. Sid 6.7 has been made out of elements of reality, therefore he’s reality that’s been taken, manipulated and re-created into a virtual reality. The consequence in this case is that the creation has risen above and destroyed his creator. Harkening back to Frankenstein’s monster, Sid 6.7 had become a real live monster.

          This is always the case with new technologies. Creators can only create, and there may come a point where the creation evolves out of their hands, and begins changing on its own. Take the internet as example. Although it’s obviously not changing on its own, it is a real world technology that has evolved far outside the grasp of its original creators (whoever, and however many of them there are). If there existed a will to destroy it, it’s doubtful that unless the most drastic of measures was taken, that it could happen. Like in The Lawnmower Man, one may have to invade and explode internet H.Q (yes, I am sadly aware that there is no such thing), or stab it with a hunk of glass, a la Parker Barnes of Virtuosity.

(To archaic android) “To think, you constitute one of my ancestors. I’m vaguely offended by that.”                                           –Sid 6.7

          All this is in service of saying something that many people may already know. People often fear what’s new and unfamiliar, whether they admit it, or are even aware of it. Otherwise films like these would probably not exist. The early 90’s was the virtual reality fad. Since then, it’s kind of escaped public consciousness and/or interest and/or scientific interest. Other technologies and developments preceded it, others came after it. Wonder what’s next?

          Daniel’s obsession with his Zoe’s avatar in Caprica and his desperation to bring her into the real world proves that he is willing to accept the death of the real Zoe. Even if she becomes a perfect simulacrum, a perfect copy; even if the only difference is “a difference that makes no difference” (as Dr. Graystone says in the pilot) there still exists that difference. It may not make a difference to Dr. Graystone directly, or to the others that may encounter the new Zoe, but the real and original Zoe Graystone has still died and left the world that they all inhabit. Despite the perfectness of the copy, it will exist purely in service of his selfishness and vanity. The death of the real Zoe cannot be reversed, regardless of the accuracy of the simulacrum. Furthermore, if Dr. Graystone gets his wish, and continues to raise the simulacrum as his own daughter she will become truth in her own right, the only and therefore real Zoe. The old truth will be replaced by a new truth, and the real will become blurred into the artificial.

          Joseph Adams (Adama) refuses to accept the evolution of the image into the simulacrum and the death of the real. Although he initially is tempted toward remaking his daughter and wife, when faced with the reality of the artificial he backs down. His loved ones are gone, and any simulacrum that may stand in for them is not the wife and daughter that he knew. Despite the resemblance, the original versions are gone for good. Bringing to life two new replicas is not going to change that.

          In his novel The Simulacra, Philip K. Dick takes these moral questions to a larger scale. Dick creates a world that relies on the pseudo reality of the simulacra. Nicole Thibodeaux, leader of the matriarchal government has been in power for 40 years, remaining there through the use of simulacra (in all of that time, she has not aged). The majority of society is ignorant as to the artificial nature of the government, and relies heavily on Thibodeaux’s influence. Dick, thus, presents us with a different depiction of the incorporation of simulacra into everyday life, where the artificial is necessary to maintain the real.

          However, like Daniel wishes to alleviate his pain through creating the Zoe simulacrum, the Nicole Thibodeaux simulacrum also serves the needs of others, as opposed to saving the original Nicole. The Thibodeaux simulacrum helps maintain a necessary balance in society, thus benefitting everyone but the real and original Nicole, who has been replaced and long since forgotten.  Conversely, in Caprica Dr. Graystone is disrupting a pre-existing balance. By Caprica’s close, we have been introduced to the foreboding, hell-bent-on-destruction Cylon model that Graystone’s company has created. It’s no coincidence that Zoe enters the world through a similar Cylon model, a warning of things to come and changes that will take place in the pre-existing world.

          Jean Baudrillard dubs the simulacrum as a “murderer of the real,” (28) the “final stage in the history of the image.” (28) In both Caprica and The Simulacra, the simulacra present have (or will) effectively destroy the real. However, certain paradoxical relationships are present, especially in The Simulacra, where the real hinges on the incorporation of the fake into everyday life.  In Caprica, Daniel believes that his happiness depends on the re-creation of his daughter, as does ignoring her artificial nature. What is important is that in each case the image will ‘murder’ the reality of what was, and the dead are and/or will be forgotten.