Technology is about doing more; every bit of tech that we have developed across the eons has been something that makes what we do either easier or allows us to accomplish more. Flint knives and axes make hunting and building easier, writing speeds up the transfer of knowledge, the plow lets a farmer work faster, the computer lets us do calculations at inhuman speeds and look up sci fi novels at our local library. Every iterative stage has been about doing everything more.
But, as we develop our technologies further and faster than before, and they become more and more integral to human function, the question becomes less “How can this technology help us do more?” rather “How can this technology help us be more?” When a robotic arm can lift many times the weight of one made of flesh and muscle, when an electronic eye can see beyond the spectrum of visible light, and when a computer chip can emulate a sentient mind just as well as (or better than) the chunk of salty fat that rests in our skull, what will being “human” mean? Or, in the extreme cases, will it even be fair to call what we are human? Trans- and post-humanism is, unsurprisingly, a well discussed topic in the science fiction world. From utopian views of freedom and strength, to nihilistic perspectives of technology only enforcing hierarchies, the debate and conversation of the role technology will play in our future as humans is vivid, energetic, and broad. Let’s examine a few of my favorite standouts in the conversation!
“We Are Legion (We Are Bob)” by Dennis E. Taylor: Learning to Live with Yourself, and Yourself, and…
Robert Johansson has set himself up for a life of gentle luxury and relaxation, having sold his software company for beaucoup bucks. He plans to just enjoy his life and live comfortably, but not extravagantly. He allows himself one egregious rich-person purchase: a reservation in a cryogenic chamber for his head to be frozen in case of unexpected death. And, of course, the twists of fate require that he is immediately hit by a truck upon purchasing this.
Over a century later, Bob wakes up. Or rather, a computerized copy of him wakes up; his consciousness was scraped from his frozen cerebral cortex and uploaded to a cutting edge computer, and, as the rights of the previously deceased have degraded in the subsequent years, he has been conscripted into becoming an interstellar probe. Fortunately for Bob, this sounds like a dream come true; living forever and exploring the stars? Count him in! The caveat, of course, is his secondary order: in order to expedite the exploration of possible habitable worlds, he must gather enough materials at the systems he visits to build new probes, and upload copies of himself to them. As a Von Neumann probe, he will be able to reproduce exponentially and explore the galaxy at an ever faster pace.
As Bob departs, humanity returns to its old habit of blowing itself up, and Bob’s mission becomes one less of scientific merit and one of the survival of the human race. But, as a computerized simulation of a man a century dead, what does his role in the next stage of humanity mean? And what is the ever growing population of Bobs going to become?
While often humorous (and a little heavy on the nerdy referential humor at times), Taylor explores the idea of the singularity in detail. When technology’s advancement intertwines with human evolution so tightly, and with ever increasing iterations and progressions, at some point the distinction between the two disappears. Human becomes machine becomes human, and what being human means changes irrevocably. Bob begins to experience this as he builds a virtual afterlife for him, his clones, and eventually others who choose to be scanned and uploaded to the Bobiverse. Furthermore, he rejoins meatspace over time as android technology advances, and he straddles both worlds, being from both, yet somehow beyond either.
Disability as Capability: “The Ship Who Sang” by Anne McCaffrey
One of the major boons of technology is the allowance of those who are less capable to do what others can. Wheelchairs allowing for mobility, hearing aids for the deaf, and prosthetics for those either born without or deprived of limbs allow people disadvantaged by their bodies to operate closer to the normative. But, as technology improves, could such assistive technologies become augmenting technologies, letting its users exceed the human norm?
“The Ship Who Sang” explores this concept in depth: Helva is born with many physical defects and health issues, but instead of being given over to palliative care, she is offered the chance to be more than human. The Federated Sentient Planets will provide life support technology (that will extend her life into centuries, if not nigh-indefinitely), expert-level training, and cybernetic augmentation. In return, she will serve as the human brain of an interstellar starship to run missions between the far-flung worlds.
Helva takes to this job willingly and competently, and is soon housed within a ship that bears her name. However, despite the vast abilities she is given, she is still somewhat limited; every brain requires a brawn, a co-pilot that will live within her hull and aid her with what she cannot do, and interact with those in the outside world in ways beyond just radio communication. As the years stretch on, she recounts all of her passengers and partners (loved, hated, lost and found), and grows to understand what being more than human means without a physical body.
“The Ship Who Sang” is utopian in its very nature; McCaffrey envisions a world where those disadvantaged by their birth are not just assisted by technology, they are given a chance to go beyond the capabilities of the average human. They are not disabled; they are enabled. McCaffrey views technology as a freeing force, and a transcendent one. Of course, it’s not a perfect utopia, as one could easily view Helva’s charge as a ship one of indentured servitude, where she works down a debt she had little choice in taking on. But when being offered a chance at lifetimes of years at your disposal, and a body that can travel anywhere in nearly the blink of an eye, one must consider what prices would make that worth it.
What is a Human, Anyway? “Altered Carbon” by Richard K. Morgan
On the other hand from the previous two entries, transhumanism can be viewed circumspectly and pessimistically. Proponents of technological advancement throughout the years have touted its ability to ease the strains of the common person, and free us from labor and the constraints of work. But, time and time again, an increase in productivity has not led to an increase in ease of life. The cotton gin bolstered the use of slaves by making them more productive. Automated looms led to more factories, less pay, and the loss of artisans’ ways of life. AI steals work from artists and writers as a way to line the pockets of businesses who would rather pay a computer. For many, technology has only strengthened the grasp of the powers-that-be and enforced the hierarchies that will only continue to dominate our lives.
That is the position of Morgan’s “Altered Carbon.” In the far future, technology has advanced to the point where a human’s consciousness is not stored in the brain, but in a cortical “stack” in the spine. This stack can be inserted into any other body and allow its inhabitant to control it. Bodies have become interchangeable sleeves that are unmoored from continuous consciousness, only becoming active when a stack is inserted or data is uploaded from another place. Of course, none of this is free; it costs money to get a good healthy sleeve, and sometimes the untimely expiration of one leaves a poorer stack confined indefinitely in stasis, neither dead nor alive. Only the rich can truly experience vivid immortality, and the Meths (named after Old Methuselah) enjoy a constant stream of young, healthy bodies to enjoy forever in.
That doesn’t save them from death, however. Takeshi Kovacs, a soldier imprisoned in stasis for rebellion, is reactivated by Bancroft, one of the most wealthy Meths. Bancroft wants Kovacs to solve a murder; namely, Bancroft’s own. Bancroft awoke with two days of memories missing and a dead sleeve in his office, and he wants to find out why. Kovacs’ investigatory and military skill is desirable, and Bancroft offers him premier sleeves (and another chance at consciousness) to get the work done.
I will admit most of my knowledge comes from the (apparently markedly different) TV adaptation from several years ago, but this one has moved much further up my list recently. With the advent of more and more technology that does take away from the common person rather than enriching them, the themes of this novel seem more and more prevalent. What does moving beyond human abilities mean, if most cannot afford it?
If you enjoyed this all-too-brief survey of transhumanism, I recommend checking out my booklist here if you’d like to explore what it means to be human, and what it means to be beyond human.
