I had no idea that a TV series based on Philip K. Dick's The Man in the High Castle was in development, much less executive-produced by Ridley Scott.
Not to mention that one episode has already aired and is streaming on Amazon Prime here.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Friday, March 20, 2015
Book Review: Mindscan
Robert
J. Sawyer
2005
Awards:
Campbell
Rating:
★ ★ – – –
Mindscan is another
of Sawyer’s forays into the gray area between life and artificial intelligence,
and into unanswerable philosophical questions such as: what is consciousness? And how can you prove objectively whether someone or something has it? The book is
a quick read, but it is not as fully formed or as well resolved as his earlier
novel The Terminal Experiment, which
dealt with similar topics.
In
the prologue to Mindscan, our
protagonist, Jake Sullivan, is a young man in his twenties. Jake is having an
argument with his father when his father suddenly drops dead due to what turns
out to be a congenital defect in the blood vessels in his brain. Jake then learns
that he has the same condition that killed his father, and that, in all
likelihood, it will kill him, too, at an early age. Jake is then forced to severely
curtail his activities to try to prolong his life.
By
the time Jake is in his forties, a private company called Immortex has
developed a process by which they can port a complete copy of your
brain—including memories, thoughts, and feelings—into an artificial, upgradable
robotic body that is durable enough to last virtually forever.
In
effect, the process splits you into two identical people: one in your original
organic body and one in a new mechanical one. To avoid the potential legal
hassles that could come from you having two instantiations of yourself, the
artificial version stays on Earth and is given all of your legal rights, and
the organic original is sent up to an all-inclusive luxury resort on the dark
side of the moon, where it whiles away the rest of its natural life in isolated
comfort.
Because
of this, and because the whole package is very, very expensive, it is primarily
done only by extremely wealthy older people who have at most a year or two to
live. Jake is atypically young, but he is the heir of a vast Canadian brewery
fortune so he has the money to do it. Frustrated by the way his life is circumscribed
by his condition, he opts to get the procedure. Afterwards, we
follow the story lines of both the original organic Jake and the new mechanical
one.
The
new mechanical version—the “Mindscan”—has a hard time adjusting at first. His mother, his
dog, and the girl he likes are all creeped out by his new form and don’t accept
him as the real Jake. Fortunately, he is eventually able to find acceptance and
even love with his fellow Mindscans.
Soon after he starts dating his Mindscan girlfriend Karen, Karen’s original
organic version dies. Her son then files suit to have her legally declared
dead and her assets distributed to him, even though the mechanical copy of her
is still alive. The whole thing then turns into a big legal civil
rights battle over whether a mechanical body with a mind-scanned copy of a brain
is actually the person it claims to be.
Mindscan
Jake stays supportively at Karen’s side through the entire trial. As it drags on, though,
he starts hearing voices in his head—specifically, his own voice—which makes him suspect nefarious doings at
Immortex, including them possibly making additional copies of him with whom he
is somehow mentally connected.
Meanwhile,
Jake’s original body—the “shed skin”—wakes up pissed off when he realizes that
he is the copy of the consciousness that is going to die. (What did he think was going to happen? Of
course one of them has to be the original instantiation of his brain, stuck in his original
body.) He goes to the moon to live out the remainder of his life, but he remains cranky and has a hard time settling into his new lunar environment.
And then
matters are complicated when a doctor on Earth develops a cure for his brain
condition. His
corporate caretakers/jailers agree to let the doctor fly up to give him the cure, but
afterwards they won’t let organic Jake leave the moon. Too many legal complications, for
them and for him, they say.
Organic Jake’s anger builds until he eventually takes drastic action to force
the issue. This inevitably results in the two Jakes meeting each other—with disastrous
consequences.
This
book's subject matter had good solid potential. Unfortunately, its
execution was awkward and uninspiring.
- First and foremost, the legal battle over Karen’s personhood, which takes up a large portion of the book, is unconvincing. The defense reveals surprise information during cross-examination that the judge already knows about but the prosecution doesn’t, which doesn’t seem allowable. Objections are sustained and overruled at weird times for tenuous reasons. And the arguments used by both sides are primarily emotional and philosophical, and practically free of legal content.
- The Mindscans’ physical construction seems inconsistent. They can feel some things (touch, heat, wind) but not others (air pressure, pain, smell).
Wall-e |
- It’s strange to me that everyone reacts so negatively to the Mindscans. Almost every organic human they come in contact with on Earth is at least uncomfortable with and often overtly hostile to them. I mean, this isn’t 1938; this is the mid-21st century. Is there really no one ready to accept a sentient robot? Has no one read any Asimov? Has no one heard of R2-D2? Data? Wall-E?
- The story takes place in a North America of the very near future, and the narrative jars badly when the author’s guesses about our current time are wrong. For one thing, in this book, Pat Buchanan is a former U.S. president, when I don’t think he will realistically ever try to run again. In the book, gay marriage is illegal across the U.S., when it looks very much like that tide is moving irrevocably in the opposite direction. And perhaps the saddest non-true historical-future fact in the book is that Christopher Reeve is alive and walking, a testament to advancement in the neurosciences.
- And, finally, the whole Immortex conspiracy business is wrapped up at the end very abruptly, almost as an afterthought. It turns out to be disappointingly unambitious without any real evil intent behind it, and it is quite dissatisfying.
As
I said before, this book does raise big, interesting questions, such as: Can you
prove an entity has consciousness? How about a mechanical entity? If an entity of any kind passes the Turing test, and no one
can tell that it isn’t conscious and
self-aware, is that the same thing as it being conscious and self-aware? Should we consider it to be legally
alive?
These
questions deserve a solid story line to explore them. As I was reading
this book and feeling frustrated by its inadequacies, I remembered that just such
a solid story line did exist—in the form of the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode “The Measure of a Man.”
In that
episode, a scientist wants to take the android Data apart and dissect his brain for
research. Data naturally objects, and eventually the controversy leads to a
trial in which Data essentially has to prove that he is a sentient being and therefore
deserves not be dissected if he doesn’t want to be dissected.
The episode is wonderfully
done, and is a much better presentation of the issues than Mindscan. The Star Trek trial is much more focused than the Mindscan trial on figuring out appropriate
criteria for sentience and the legal provability of self-awareness. And the episode's writers are good at exposing arguments that are either red herrings or are too undefined to use as legal proof.
Friday, March 6, 2015
Book Review: Death and the Joyful Woman
Ellis Peters
1961
Awards: Edgar
Rating: ★ ★ ★ – –
Here is yet another well-put-together British mystery.
It starts with the violent murder of a businessman hated by many people for a variety of reasons. Someone is arrested for the crime but the primary case detectives (and the reader) are convinced the accused person is innocent. The book follows the entire business of investigating the crime and finding the true killer.
There are negatives to this book, indeed, but they are outweighed by the positives.
The Positives
The two sleuths are likeable – both the official professional (the police detective, George Felse) and the unofficial amateur (George’s inquisitive teenage son Dominic).
The story is very well constructed. Peters does a nice job of ramping up the tension toward the end so that the climactic scene really is very exciting.
Peters exhibits hardly any of that annoying habit some mystery writers have where they too obviously keep things from the reader that would let the reader put together the clues themselves. Or the habit of trying to string the reader along and make the book more suspenseful by hinting clumsily at what the reader has already figured out, to the point where the reader wants to scream, "I know it was the butler already!" In this book, as you figure things out, the story is right there with you, acknowledging what you've figured out and then taking you to the next step.
There are some great quirky phrases in this book. I don’t know whether they’re more a result of Peters’ creativity, nationality, or era but they’re excellent:
Some of the non-detective characters are ridiculous.
Particularly Kitty, a young woman with a complex relationship to the murdered man. Kitty is beautiful, innocent, and dippy. She does a lot of gasping and looking astonished and pleading with her big violet eyes. Naturally, guys feel rewarded just helping her out. She is like many young females in 1950s-1960s novels who are supposedly wild and rebellious, but never actually so rebellious as to be socially unacceptable.
Also, the police detective's wife, Bunty. She is completely understanding and helps her husband talk things out when he needs to even though he has a major crush on Kitty and she knows it.
An earlier version of this review originally appeared on Cheeze Blog.
1961
Awards: Edgar
Rating: ★ ★ ★ – –
Here is yet another well-put-together British mystery.
It starts with the violent murder of a businessman hated by many people for a variety of reasons. Someone is arrested for the crime but the primary case detectives (and the reader) are convinced the accused person is innocent. The book follows the entire business of investigating the crime and finding the true killer.
There are negatives to this book, indeed, but they are outweighed by the positives.
The Positives
The two sleuths are likeable – both the official professional (the police detective, George Felse) and the unofficial amateur (George’s inquisitive teenage son Dominic).
The story is very well constructed. Peters does a nice job of ramping up the tension toward the end so that the climactic scene really is very exciting.
Peters exhibits hardly any of that annoying habit some mystery writers have where they too obviously keep things from the reader that would let the reader put together the clues themselves. Or the habit of trying to string the reader along and make the book more suspenseful by hinting clumsily at what the reader has already figured out, to the point where the reader wants to scream, "I know it was the butler already!" In this book, as you figure things out, the story is right there with you, acknowledging what you've figured out and then taking you to the next step.
There are some great quirky phrases in this book. I don’t know whether they’re more a result of Peters’ creativity, nationality, or era but they’re excellent:
"A sprat to catch a mackerel was fair enough"The Negatives
"he was laughing like a drain"
"speak of the devil and his bat wings rustle behind you"
"working as packer and porter and general dog's body at Malden's"
"I never said anything to the fellows, naturally, but it leaked in around dawn, with the milk"
Some of the non-detective characters are ridiculous.
Particularly Kitty, a young woman with a complex relationship to the murdered man. Kitty is beautiful, innocent, and dippy. She does a lot of gasping and looking astonished and pleading with her big violet eyes. Naturally, guys feel rewarded just helping her out. She is like many young females in 1950s-1960s novels who are supposedly wild and rebellious, but never actually so rebellious as to be socially unacceptable.
Also, the police detective's wife, Bunty. She is completely understanding and helps her husband talk things out when he needs to even though he has a major crush on Kitty and she knows it.
An earlier version of this review originally appeared on Cheeze Blog.
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