Archive for November, 2011

The Limits of Heaven.

“Heaven was not intended for the casual visitor; any paradise in which the flesh-constrained would feel at home would have been intolerably pedestrian to the disembodied souls who lived there.”

I fell in love with this quote near the beginning of the second section of Blindsight.  I almost automatically love any quote having any sort of reference to the afterlife because it opens up so much discussion in regards to a fictional world.  In comparison to books like Neuromancer and Lilith’s Brood, which abstain from a reference or invocation to the some sort of religious higher power and/or afterlife, I feel like such a statement already sets Blindsight apart.

However, I think this quote could have, ultimately, been included in both of those books.  I don’t see this as so much a religious invocation as a reference to the changing standards of the world so omnipresent in science fiction.  The use of the adjective “flesh-constrained” really echoes this notion.  The paradises of the future — specifically, augmentation — feel so pedestrian in comparison to what our constrained present is like.  I think the idea that augmentation colors the world is a recurring theme, not only through the works we’ve read, in science fiction as a whole.  I feel like Case would describe the lack of access to the matrix in a similar fashion.  The matrix is a paradise ineffable to anyone who doesn’t have access.  The world without the matrix is utterly intolerable.

But, let’s focus specifically on Blindsight and what it means here.  Obviously, augmentation plays a great part in the character of Siri and the prominence of the genetically augmented vampires that are plaguing the earth.  How pedestrian the unaugmented world must seem to Siri, who has such a vast alteration in his mental processing.  He can connect with different species in meaningful ways that normal people cannot even begin to comprehend.

Even the way the characters connect to their spacefaring vessels seems so much more brilliant that the way a person pilots a shuttle now.  How pedestrian that must seem to the future.

In this sense, it is such an optimistic view of the future.  Everything now will seem so absolutely gray and muted to the fantasies of what comes next.  While it might be argued that cognitive dissonance is the goal of science fiction, I think that hope is the ultimate goal.  This is a weird thing to say considering many works of science fiction are unapologetically pessimistic.  Many science fiction novels portray a dystopian future.  However, I think there’s an essence of hope and wonderment there too.  The apocalypse is, undeniably, exciting.

To a certain extent, it seems that characters in Blindsight can directly interface with a vision of heaven, which in particular I find extremely terrifying.  I wonder how characters are able to resist forever surrendering themselves to an afterlife, surrounding by images of their loved ones even if those images are synthesized.  That must be such a compelling addiction, and I feel like an entire novel could be based solely around that concept.


Fanfiction is a really creepy assignment, Professor Sample

Some sort of journal:

I don’t like it. It’s not right. They’re the ones who did this to us. The ones who take away our last vestiges of freedom. Why should we ever try to bargain with them? Those monsters won’t ever change us back. They won’t fix us.

They’ve taken something from us that can’t be given back.

More than just children. They’ve taken our species, our home, our hope.

I don’t think we should be trying to use this child to our advantage. No matter what the result, he won’t make us whole again. We’ll still be sterile in the end.

Earth isn’t a place for children anymore.

Honestly, we should have just let ourselves die. We used to be a proud species. We resist because it’s in our blood and it’s who we are. We shouldn’t try to become what we once were.

Earth isn’t a place for humans anymore.

Fuck the squids. Leave ’em alone and let us rot.

I’d rather die now then ever be touched by one of them again. Rather die than ever see one of them again.

Children ain’t worth it.