Whenever a voice rose he could not help but flinch. Such sounds went straight to his heart, suffocated him, overwhelmed him…paralyzed him. He lay under his bed, his mother’s words a piercing blade in his ear, his father’s shout a sharp crack against his skull. When silence ultimately fell, he would hum quietly to himself, for the silence was almost more terrifying.
The appearance of a character forms an image in the mind of the reader, and many illustrative words cause one to form certain assumptions. In Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, the appearance of Elizabeth paints a clear and vivid picture in the reader’s mind. Shelley writes, “Her hair was the brightest living gold, and, despite the poverty of her clothing, seemed to set a crown of distinction on her head” (42). Continue reading “The Image of Elizabeth: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley”
I have gotten a bit philosophical on the definitions of humanity and the qualities that comprise aspects of it, but now I want to turn and instead look at what the motivations and treatment of the characters on these topics reveal about why this issue is explored in these stories. As is common in many Dystopian stories there is this overriding fear of mechanization, that humans will become obsolete as machines and engineering creating superior inventions. In Blade Runner, the replicants’ are perfect physically, stronger, faster, and in ways smarter. The replicants existence is a threat to the status quo and if allowed to gain emotions and live longer they could very well surpass humans at the top of the power hierarchy. Continue reading “The Measure of Humanity: Part 4”
One of the most primal reactions I can think of is the desire to live, to continue existing for as long as possible, to fight and scratch, and struggle to survive. The right to live is one we all desperately hold on to, the right to decide for ourselves to face tomorrow. In continuing to prove just how human he seems to be Roy says, “‘I want more life’” when asked what the problem is by Tyrell (Blade Runner). The desire to live, a conscious awareness of one’s continued existence and even more importantly a recognition that it will all end. Replicants are struggling to find agency in their lives, to make decisions about the way they live and what they do, and because their lives are confined to four years they are reduced to a limited number of experiences, to a limited existence. Data experiences a similar, if not slightly more logic bound, response to the possibility of his destruction. Continue reading “The Measure of Humanity: Part 3”
Star Trek: Next Gen paints us a very different but just as thought-provoking picture of an other struggling to gain a place in society. In the episode “The Measure of a Man” Data an android officer of Starfleet is ruled to be the property of the federation and therefore he can be dismantled in the pursuit of science. Captain Picard and Data challenge this ruling and have a court hearing to determine if as an android he possesses rights or not. In contrast to replicants, androids are in fact completely mechanical creations, lacking all biological components. They are made in the image of man, to serve and resemble and function as a human would. Commander Maddox, the scientist working to declare Data as property, when faced with the outrage of Captain Picard who considers Data an individual and sentient being, says, “‘You are endowing Data with human characteristics because it looks human. But it is not’”. Continue reading “The Measure of Humanity: Part 2”
I have always been fascinated by the idea that humanity is an intrinsic quality, one that is gained through life and experience, and that this quality is not necessarily constrained to mere humans. The question of what makes up humanity, who possesses it, and how can you measure its existence is one that has been explored in the science fiction genre for decades. I am interested in the concern specific works show over the idea as explored through whether or not mechanical engineered creations can possess humanity or even sentience. I want to explore the different ways Blade Runner and Star Trek: Next Generation delve into these questions, looking at the qualities and issues they investigate as well as the different concerns surrounding this debate as portrayed by the stances characters take. The qualities that make a human deserving of rights are often ineffable and hard to define, and yet we hold our right to certain truths and respect to be self-evident. Continue reading “The Measure of Humanity: Part 1”
She waddled, hands placed on her lower back on either side of her spine trying to relive some pressure. Her huge belly jutted out in front of her, her belly button visible beneath the stretched fabric. Her feet were killing her and the bus wasn’t due for thirty more minutes. Being pregnant was not conducive to the ease of public transportation. A few more weeks the doctors had said and she should pop this little darling (whom she dearly loved, but she missed seeing her toes) out. It had always been her versus the world and soon it would be her versus the world plus one (an innocent, helpless plus one). She trembled from fear or excitement or maybe pure exhaustion she did know. Probably D) all of the above.
She needed to sit down before she fell down. The bus bench was occupied by a lone man, on the right of him was a liquid substance that looked like puke, the left his collection of bags.
Annoyance rose at the possibility of having to speak to the stranger. She hoped he’d notice the big belly and do the right thing.
She moussed into his field of vision. His eyes were focused on the book clasped in his hands, the front cover bent over, his right finger slid beneath the next page prepared to flip once his eyes finished their journey downward.
Well shit, she hated to interrupt people when reading. Her feet throbbed, her back ached, her daughter kicked. She didn’t hate it that much.
She gave a gentle sigh to garner his attention.
Nothing.
She released a very lady-like pained grunt.
Nothing.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
She was ready to snatch the book from his hands and smash it onto the floor and grind it beneath her swollen feet. And she was not one to damage books.
“Excuse me, sir?” she said with aggressive authority, waving a hand between him and the page.
The lines of his face shifted into surprise then anger at being interrupted, and he glanced over the top of his glasses to glare at her.
“What?” he growled, his deep blue eyes piercing her with fire.
“Would you mind moving your belongings so I may sit?” Her voice matching his in brimstone, she tacked a forced smile on the end, making sure to include teeth.
“No.” His eyes returned to the page.
“You want to run that by me again, Fu-, Buster!”
“There’s puke beneath the bench, and I need this stuff close so I can keep track of it while reading.”
“Oh well then, glad to know your book and bags outrank me.”
“Standing never killed anyone.”
His book had remained at eye level for their conversation and she had a strong suspicion he couldn’t see anything but her face. As if that was an excuse, she still expected decent treatment when she wasn’t pregnant. Thank you very much.
“Shithead, I am about to fall over.”
The book came down at her profanity and he looked ready to give her a tongue lashing. His eyes bulged at the sight of her stomach.
“Crap.” A light pink flush crawled its way up his checks. Embarrassment well at least there’s that, she thought bitterly.
“Her ears have developed she can hear you, asshole.”
He didn’t answer simply slide his arm into his backpack strap, hefting up as he stood. Next, he grabbed his plastic suitcase lifting it past the vomit and a safe distance away before coming back for a small parcel and a stack of books. How he had gotten that all there in the first place was beyond her.
She also now realized he was a huge man, well over 6 foot towering over her, a backpack hanging low off one arm, hand filled with a brown parcel and a stack of books in the other, his finger still marking his place in his novel. He stepped past her, and she sank down with a relieved groan.
He looked a bit lost about what do with all his stuff.
“You can leave it, you know. I am not goanna steal it, I am not sure I’ll ever be able to get myself off this bench again, anyway.”
A smile quirked at his lips.
“But I claim the suitcase as a footrest.” The smile slipped as his eyebrow rose, but she could see amusement in his eyes. He settled his belongings beside her and set the suitcase at her feet.
“I was joking” He left it, her feet found themselves quite comfortably elevated.
After a few minutes of silence, he spoke, “Sorry. I tend to get nasty when my reading is interrupted.”
“I get it.”
They lapsed into silence.
I have always had a soft spot for romantic notions and ideas. I love the idea of romance, I love the reality of a strong and loving relationship even better. “To My Dear and Loving Husband” by Anne Bradstreet, is her attempt to express the depths of her feelings and emotions towards her husband. Bradstreet instantly had my attention when she started with “If”, this use of a conditional clause intrigued me, she uses it to draw attention to the immense compatibility and love between the speaker and her husband. Continue reading “An Image of Love: “To My Dear and Loving Husband” by Anne Bradstreet”
An old story I wrote, that is just fluffy, sweet goodness. Hope you enjoy! I am thinking about doing a rewrite and updating it.
Cyndi shoved her way through the school halls, her vans squeaking loudly on the tile floor, as she searched desperately for Tyler her head whipping back and forth so quickly it was a miracle she didn’t get whiplash.
“Hey, Cyndi!” Alexis called, waving at her wildly. “Only one more week till we are free of this hell hole for good!” Cyndi’s gaze flickered over to her briefly and she shouted a greeting, voicing her hearty consent, before her attention returned to the problem at hand. “He’s over there.” Alexis informed her pointing in the direction of the gym doors, Cyndi’s eyes zeroed in on a familiar blonde head. “Thanks Alexis. Love you!”
“Tyler!” she screeched, pushing people out of the way with well placed elbows. The head turned slightly at the sound of his name, but continued on disappearing into the gym. With a burst of energy, Cyndi pulled herself…
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Joined at the Authorship 