So, for Memorial Day I am going to talk about Christopher. Infantry guy from Roswell, New Mexico. Married, had a little girl. Loved rock music, particularly Black Label Society. He had a big BLS flag which hung over his rack in the barracks. Had a sweet little electric guitar he used to play along to their albums to, along with an amp which would occasionally piss off the people in the bay with him. He loved old rock too- Tom Petty, Skynard of course. Had a fair amount of Johnny Cash.
He wasn't politically stupid either. Read a lot of Right side stuff; some O'Reilly etc., but also had a well dog-eared copy of Howard Zinn's “A People's History of the United States.” He liked video games, usually ones where he did what he did in real life- war games where you go out and shoot the bad guy and keep going until someone gets you. He had his games crammed in with his movies- mostly stuff he'd bought there in Iraq, playing the games and the movies on a little TV he'd crammed into his little space with his guitar and music and books.
When I met him, all that were left were these mementos. I went through it, item by item, meeting the man with whom I would never speak. Filing the pictures of his wife and daughter. Counting the CDs (nearly 300!) and movies and placing all of it into footlockers, carefully inventoried and then locked away.
Christopher and his squad walked into a building north of Baqubah, Iraq that morning, and the entire thing blew up on them, killing him and his entire squad. I was the officer who inventoried and packed his things to make the trip home he never would. I was sorely tempted to put a note, some little piece of comfort or condolence for his wife and daughter, but luckily I was wise enough to forego this; I didn't really know him. I only knew what was left. I only had an evidentiary connection to who he had been, and somehow in my mind that created a relationship of some kind, a bond with a man with whom I had a lot in common, but whose name I only learned when I was handed the info sheet with his name, last, first, middle initial across the top. I had no right to him though, and what could I say to his wife or child except, “he seemed like a good guy.”
It's been more than a year and a half since I put together Christopher's personal effects. He still comes to mind when I see a Black Label Society t-shirt, or hear Tom Petty's “Full Moon Fever.” I hope his family has learned to cope, and I hope they remember him fondly. Even though I have no right to...
...I miss him. Weird huh? For Memorial Day, I ask you all to remember someone who shouldn't be gone, but since they are, should be missed.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
A Story, and another plug!
As I am sure you are aware, I also run a website publishing my original fiction, and I know for a fact I entertain at least three people beyond myself. To give myself a little protection, I put the fan fiction (usually GI Joe or Star Trek) out for everyone, and keep the original stuff in a members only section so I can monitor who reads it. This story appears in the Members Only section, but the wonderful woman who provided me with marvelous advice on making the whole thing seem more real asked if she could link to it. Both wanting to please her, and always looking for free publicity, I am posting the story here. If you do enjoy and would like to see more, please go to the website linked above and see how to become a member, or drop a note to draftdistro@gmail.com. Otherwise, please enjoy:
Thinking Cap
by Daniel T. Foster
On Thursday evening, Doctor Randall Goodwin went to visit the home of his friend, Doctor Geoffrey Curtis. Both men lived in Tucson, Arizona. Both men were researchers and teachers at the University of Arizona's physics program. The two men had originally met ten years before when finishing their Ph D. programs at Cambridge. Doctor Goodwin was the type of man who used his knowledge of physics to win bets in bars; a scientist-cowboy who was as comfortable appearing on the Today show to discuss recent developments in string theory and quantum mechanics as he was in front of a classroom or as he was singing karaoke in front of a group of drunken strangers. Doctor Curtis was his opposite. A family man, devoted to his wife, less comfortable in a classroom than a library. His focus was infamous; on occasion while demonstrating an equation on the white board, the math would take him and he would drift away lost in the calculations, finally turning back to the class to find empty chairs. Their friendship was unlikely, but true, and the men often relied on each other, and as a pair of physicists were nearly unequaled.
Together, Goodwin and Curtis authored several papers, and now had names bandied about in the same circles as Hawking, Mermin, or Cohen. Together, Goodwin and Curtis moved to Arizona to work with bright students. Together, Goodwin and Curtis were Nobel Prize winning physicists.
Together, they came to realize all was not well with Geoffrey Curtis's infant son. Adam Curtis barely made a noise before he was a year old. Adam Curtis sat quietly, no gesturing, no words, no “ga” or “goo.” Even when they spoke directly to Adam, it seemed he looked everywhere but at the person addressing him. Both Randall and Geoffrey, and Geoffrey's wife Jean, tried their best but nothing brought Adam out of his shell. Then they noticed his repetitive behavior. The only thing he showed interest in was drawing. At 20 months, he would sit, a single black crayon in hand with a ream of paper, and would put a single dot in the center of each page. Then he would turn the ream over and start again on the blank side. A single dot on each page.
Geoffrey and Jean took Adam to the pediatrician. Though Geoffrey shared the title “doctor” with Theresa Walker, she was the expert in this realm of science. She administered the Modified Checklist for Autism in Toddlers- the MCHAT. Afterwards she explained the test was known to give false negatives, but almost never gave false positives. The positive result they had received was not conclusive but likely. As time went by it became more than likely; Doctor Walker diagnosed Adam with autism.
As Doctor Goodwin locked his Acura and walked to Doctor Curtis's house, he remembered long hours sitting with his friend, discussing the possible reasons Adam had this condition. Geoffrey wondered if his own complex focus problems somehow passed to his son, if he might be responsible. For about a month after Adam turned two (and finally began speaking, albeit only in pairs of words, strung together in simple expressions of want or need) Geoffrey and Randall would sit in their shared office at the U of A, long after student hours. Randall would drink from a bottle of Scotch he kept in his desk, while Geoffrey lamented. It was one of those nights Randall was struck by Scotch influenced inspiration.
“So, autism is about connections, right? The connections in the brain?” he asked. Geoffrey, as always sober, nodded, then shook his head, his mind racing somewhat faster than his gestures and speech.
“Yes, it, well no. And yes. See, parts of the brain don't talk to each other enough, other parts suffer from hyper-connectivity. It's a different type of wiring. Some people don't even consider it a handicap, just a different type of thought.” Randall drained his glass before he continued.
“So think about it- where there should be yes, there's no. Where there should be no, there is yes. Now, think about this- what do we deal with every day? The whole basis of quantum mechanics is states of flux. Schrődinger's cat isn't alive or dead, it's both and neither. What if we applied that to Adam's brain? What if we got his synapses to work like that? Wouldn't observer effect dictate his synapses would work the way everyone expected?” Geoffrey was quiet for a moment. Then he walked out, barely remembering to mumble goodnight as he left. Randall was used to that from his friend. Hell, in college he had to remind him to shower.
A month before Adam's third birthday, Geoffrey walked in on Randall, and was smiling. Randall was supposed to be answering questions for a web article, but it was a pretty vapid interview asking questions about causality any decent Star Trek fan could answer, much less someone with a Nobel prize in Physics. Geoffrey never smiled, so Randall was immediately intrigued. Geoffrey sat at his desk, and for a moment looked at the pictures Adam had drawn pinned around his office walls. Some time ago, Adam had abandoned his dot obsession in favor of circles. The dots had gotten progressively larger on the paper, and eventually Adam had stopped filling them in. He drew concentric circles, or just spheres- some where so round they almost looked manufactured. Randall had considered getting Adam a child's compass for his birthday, but decided the boy didn't need one. Finally Geoffrey opened his notebook, and pushed a set of drawings and equations across the table. Randall was confused at first. “What's this?”
“You were right,” Geoffrey responded. Randall still wasn't sure what he was looking through.
“I was right about what?”
“You can apply quantum field theory to the way Adam thinks. We can build it.” More than two years later, Randall still smiled when he thought about Geoffrey's enthusiasm. Ringing the doorbell, he only wished it had all played out with more success.
Jean Curtis opened the door. There was a time, years ago, when Randall had considered the idea of dating Jean, but once he saw her meet Geoffrey he knew it wasn't going to happen. Jean understood Geoffrey in ways no one else would. To this day, she was his interface with the real world. Randall knew she managed the mortgage, the checkbook, Geoffrey's calendar; pretty much anything which involved her husband dealing with responsibilities to society. In the last three years she had become something of a lay expert on autism herself. “Hello Mrs. Curtis! You are looking as lovely and delightful as ever this evening...” She smiled at Randall's trademark flirtation, but unlike most nights did not return it.
“Hey Randall, c'mon in. Can I get you anything? Geoff's in his office.” Jean was the only person he knew, including himself, who called Geoffrey Curtis 'Geoff.' Maybe she was the only one who really knew him.
“I don't know-- I am still trying to figure out if this is a social call or if I should maintain a clear head.” He followed her down the hall toward the large office space Geoffrey kept in the back of the house. It was actually where the two had worked out the math for their last book. Jean looked a bit tired.
“When you hear what Geoff tells you, you will need a drink, either to keep the joke rolling or dispel your horror; I'm not sure which.” She cut into the kitchen to pour two fingers of the scotch Randall always bought for his own usage but kept at the Curtis house. Randall went on toward the office.
He walked past Adam's room, which was as always ridiculously meticulous. Everything exactly where it should be, and only the favored toys of the moment out. In this case there was what looked like a battalion of toy soldiers, probably some type of GI Joe figures. Probably five hundred figures stood on the floor. They were arranged in perfect formations, and seemed almost to be having some kind of ceremony. Randall felt disquiet for a moment with all those little plastic faces looking his way, but then was amused at his own discomfort. Adam often arranged his toys in lines or rows. Elsewhere in the house, he could hear Adam's five year old's voice making growling noises of some sort. After a moment trying to figure out what Adam was thinking, and then abandoning the idea, he knocked and went into Geoffrey's study.
Geoffrey sat in near darkness, his desk mostly cleared, but some of Adam's things on the surface. He was rocking slightly, a frenetic little nervous tick he usually only displayed when deep into “theorizing” as he called it. “Geoffrey- what's going on?” The other man didn't respond for a moment, and then looked up.
“Oh, Randall, sorry. I called you right? I mean, I called you on the phone to come here and talk, right?” Randall came the rest of the way in, and sat in his customary chair across the worktable from Geoffrey. About that time Jean came in with Randall's drink, and quietly excused herself after a nervous glance at Geoffrey. Randall took a sip.
“Yes, Geoffrey you called, me, now what's going on?” Geoffrey again glanced over the toys and drawings on his desk.
“Do you remember the day we tried the cap on Adam?”
Of course Randall remembered. Nine months of working with the neural pathology department to make an interface which would allow electric readings and feedback to and from the subject's brain. They had basically jumped on a device meant to allow paraplegics to control a computer with their thoughts. The original “BrainGate” device as it was called required surgery; a sensor interface implanted in a subject's brain. Neither Geoffrey nor Jean had wanted to implant anything in Adam's head, so the next step was contacting the Honda Corporation in Japan. They had been working on the Brain/Machine Interface, or BMI for short, as a method of using thought to control their Asimo robot. Though not as integrated as the BrainGate, it used electroencephalography and near-infrared spectroscopic sensors to transfer thought information. Once Randall was able to convince the Honda development team they were not simply committing industrial espionage, and that a young boy's ability to think was the subject at hand, they were happy to help. After trial and preparation, the then nearly four year old Adam came to the University with his father and mother. Adam had visited the campus before, but this was supposed to be special.
Adam was very quiet, and repeatedly stroking a small stuffed animal Randall remembered Jean had bought for Adam in the University gift shop. It was supposed to be a microbe, something you'd find floating in a brackish pond. It was the type of toy only a science nerd would buy, but it was the latest focus of Adam's attention. His fascination with circles and spheres had passed, and now it was microbes and bugs. Randall remembered at that moment really feeling that empathy and sympathy that had led him to come up with this idea in the first place.
Geoffrey and Randall led Adam into the small chair connected to a larger console with controls, and a small cap which would fit over Adam's head. Geoffrey had been meticulous in making sure the process would not be frightening nor uncomfortable for Adam. To be safe, there were two representatives from the neuropathology department, as well as Dr. Walker, the pediatrician. Randall had convinced her to be there, and shown her there would be no physical discomfort whatsoever. Indeed, once the interface was established, all Geoffrey would really be doing is transmitting equations into Adam's brain. She glazed over a bit when Randall told her the Schrődinger equation defined how the Hamiltonian observable energy would itself define how time evolution occurred within the environment of Adam's brain. Hell, half of his students would have glazed over at the explanation too. She agreed however, and helped them convince the University's governing board this was not human experimentation in the classical sense. To someone who didn't get off on doing math for hours on end as recreation, it would nearly appear to be magic; the math would tell Adam's brain it was fixed, and so it would be.
Adam sat, Geoffrey typed. Adam continued to stroke the toy, supposedly a stuffed version of the bacteria believed to be early life on Earth from a Martian rock. Everyone waited.
No one knew what to really expect, but no one had expected the effects which had manifested; none. Adam continued to communicate when directly asked questions, but no spare speech ever came from him. He continued to demonstrate obsessive behavior focused on themes and objects. He continued to periodically go into the refrigerator and line up all the condiments by colors in the spectrum. Months went by, and though the project had definitely made breakthroughs for the Neuro Pathology department and had helped them move forward with a neural interface for prosthetic limbs, Adam seemed exactly the same. Jean, Geoffrey, and Randall had almost gone through a small mourning process based on their disappointment, but had gone on. Adam was still the wonderful child they enjoyed before, and a blessing to them despite his being different. After all, they were Nobel prize winning scientists; weren't they different in their own ways? Ask any of the students who periodically had to sneak out of Geoffrey's mathematical fugue states. So they coped, and the day they used the “thinking cap” as Jean called it was left behind...but never truly forgotten.
“Yes Geoffrey, I remember using the cap. Why? Have you seen a result?” A warm flicker of hope tickled Randall's stomach, but perhaps it was the Scotch. Geoffrey picked up one of Adam's old drawings.
“I've been thinking. Look, this is Adam's first theme he perseverated. We had pages of nothing but a spot on a page.” He traded out for another drawing. “Remember these? His concentric circles drawings. Every now and then, there would be a spot along the circles.
“Then this,” Geoffrey said, holding up the stuffed microbe Randall remembered from the day of the Thinking Cap. “This was what Jean called his bug phase. That's kind of misleading- he didn't really look at insects until later. He would perseverate amoebas and parameciums, and I think somewhere we have a stack of pages where he traced the diagram of protein peptides out of the encyclopedia. Then look. His plant phase, his dinosaur phase.” Geoffrey punctuated the dinosaur phase by holding up broken dinosaur toys. “He'd never broken his toys, but one day he decided there wouldn't be any more dinosaurs, and he went out back and smashed them all with a rock. That was when he started carrying this.” Geoffrey picked up a stuffed monkey, which had seen better days. Much of it's fur was plucked out.
“See, he liked monkeys, then he decided it needed to lose its hair and become like a person. That's when he started asking for action figures like his GI Joes. Do you see the pattern?” Geoffrey looked a little obsessive himself. Randall emptied his scotch, and had to admit he had no idea what Geoffrey was talking about.
“It's what Adam plays with. Typical autistic behavior, bouncing from object to object or subject to subject, demonstrating obsessive behavior. What pattern?” Geoffrey shook his head.
“No- the spots. That's the cosmological zero point. The concentric circles; those are atoms, then solar systems. Then microbial life, turning to plants, then the reptiles, mammals, and finally man. This is the history of the world playing out in his head.”
“So what?” Randall replied. “You have no shortage of books in this house, you're a professor. Your wife might as well have her doctorate. He absorbed things you weren't expecting, why is that bad?” Geoffrey got up and started to pace now as he continued. This was usually reserved only for his most concentrated theorizing sessions.
“What if we made a mistake? We've been looking at how the thinking cap would affect Adam's brain, his behavior. We never considered how his brain would affect the science.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Exasperated, Geoffrey continued. “Randall! For thirty minutes, we shoved half the theoretical concepts defining how the universe is made up into a four year old autistic brain. We expected observer effect and waveform collapse to help him think, but look what we did- we made him the observer! We opened him up to states of quantum flux and entanglement, and dear Lord, even anentropic stasis outside of time/space! We planted the keys to the kingdom in his head, opened the door to infinity!” Geoffrey was almost ranting, and Randall was becoming annoyed.
“You're usually a better scientist than poet. You really think your son is having some effect on the universe as a whole? How does a four year old affect events billions of years old?”
“That's my point! If we opened him up to states of existence where time is either fluid or non-existent, then we made him timeless. Picture it in your head. If you are traveling on a highway, but then get in a helicopter and hover high enough to see the whole highway, its like observing the entire journey at once. Now instead of a highway, think of it as linear time. Once you step out of linear time, the observer will always have been outside of linear time. The observer can affect things before the observer appeared in the timeline because the observer now predates, postdates, surrounds time itself. Any observer who leaves time becomes infinite in scope!”
Randall was still unconvinced. “Even assuming there is a 'doorway to the infinite' to have opened and shown to Adam, how does a four year old human mind or consciousness possibly affect the entire universe, much less evolution on Earth?” Geoffrey went to his whiteboard, pulled the cap off a dry erase marker and began to sketch out an exponent series.
“The mind would then have time to develop- well, that's a misnomer, there wouldn't actually be time, but there would be a infinite amount of 'now' to become whatever it wanted. The observer mind could evolve endlessly, with no temporal or physical constraint. It begins to observe itself as something greater, and the observer effect starts working like two mirrors facing each other, continually passing the observation.” His number sequence done, having reached enormous quantities through exponential multiplication, Geoffrey collapsed back into his chair. The two men sat silently. Finally Randall spoke.
“You're trying to tell me the mind of God is that of an autistic four year old.”
Geoffrey slowly nodded. “I just don't know if he's still connected to that plane, or if the Adam who touched infinity now exists independently from all of us.” Randall wished he had more scotch.
“Geoffrey. You're being irrational. You're a scientist- we tried to help your son, and it didn't work, so now you are transferring your guilt into fear. Just stop. Take tomorrow off and play with your son, hang out with your wife. I'll cover your two o'clock. Rest up with your family, and we'll get together on Saturday to laugh about this, OK? Just get some rest. Adam is a good boy. You need to stop feeling guilty about his autism, and about not being able to help him. You need to let it be Geoffrey. I will see you Saturday.” Geoffrey remained quiet for a moment more.
“Before you go, you should know. Adam stopped playing with his GI Joes today. He set them up in a last formation to be deactivated.” For a moment, the scene of the meticulously placed toys flashed in Randall's mind's eye, then he dismissed it.
“Bye Geoff. Relax, OK?” Randall got up, and turned to the door. Adam was standing there. He didn't quite look at Randall, almost as if embarrassed. He was in his pajamas, and held a strange little doll, a four armed creature of some sort with reddish skin and a huge head.
“Hi Adam. What do you have there?” In response to Randall, Adam held up the toy for a better look. Pretty grotesque. “What do you call it?”
“This is specimen JS5467. He was genetically engineered by humans to go to space. Instead he takes over the world and makes more like him. He's the next step.” As was typical, Adam would respond to a direct question, and provide technical reasons for his answer. If Randall had said, “what's new with you?” Adam would likely have listed new toys in purchase order.
“Cool. Go tell your mom I am leaving and I will call Saturday, OK?” Adam nodded, and padded away in his little footies, JS5467 in his hands while Adam stroked it like a pet.
Randall let himself out, and went back to his car. For just a moment he looked up into the warm Arizona night sky. Even in a city like Tucson, the skies were usually clear enough to make out most stars. Randall compared them in their universal journey for a moment to the crayon circles of a child. Then he got in his car and went home.
Doctor Jorge Suntila had champagne for lunch in Helsinki, Finland about the same time Doctor Randall Goodwin arrived home. He was celebrating. For the first time, his attempts to combine recombinant DNA into an amalgamated life form had maintained stability for more than a few minutes. Nearly six hours had passed before the protein bonds let go, and the labelled petri dish then held the equivalent of the primordial soup. This was a victory; the bonds were getting stronger. Soon, he would be able to get them to stick- he could create bio-forms which would convert CO2 into oxygen faster than plants, or eat oil and excrete water. Perhaps he could engineer bio-forms which could go into environments in which humans could not survive and work; the reactors of nuclear plants, the bottom of the ocean- even distant planets where they could explore for us. He'd been working so long at it. He glanced at his sample label on this last one-- JS5461; well over five thousand attempts. Nonetheless, he would start work on JS5462 tomorrow. Just a few more experiments, then he could show his findings. He could feel it- no more than a couple more steps. From there, who knew what he could accomplish.
The End
Thinking Cap
by Daniel T. Foster
On Thursday evening, Doctor Randall Goodwin went to visit the home of his friend, Doctor Geoffrey Curtis. Both men lived in Tucson, Arizona. Both men were researchers and teachers at the University of Arizona's physics program. The two men had originally met ten years before when finishing their Ph D. programs at Cambridge. Doctor Goodwin was the type of man who used his knowledge of physics to win bets in bars; a scientist-cowboy who was as comfortable appearing on the Today show to discuss recent developments in string theory and quantum mechanics as he was in front of a classroom or as he was singing karaoke in front of a group of drunken strangers. Doctor Curtis was his opposite. A family man, devoted to his wife, less comfortable in a classroom than a library. His focus was infamous; on occasion while demonstrating an equation on the white board, the math would take him and he would drift away lost in the calculations, finally turning back to the class to find empty chairs. Their friendship was unlikely, but true, and the men often relied on each other, and as a pair of physicists were nearly unequaled.
Together, Goodwin and Curtis authored several papers, and now had names bandied about in the same circles as Hawking, Mermin, or Cohen. Together, Goodwin and Curtis moved to Arizona to work with bright students. Together, Goodwin and Curtis were Nobel Prize winning physicists.
Together, they came to realize all was not well with Geoffrey Curtis's infant son. Adam Curtis barely made a noise before he was a year old. Adam Curtis sat quietly, no gesturing, no words, no “ga” or “goo.” Even when they spoke directly to Adam, it seemed he looked everywhere but at the person addressing him. Both Randall and Geoffrey, and Geoffrey's wife Jean, tried their best but nothing brought Adam out of his shell. Then they noticed his repetitive behavior. The only thing he showed interest in was drawing. At 20 months, he would sit, a single black crayon in hand with a ream of paper, and would put a single dot in the center of each page. Then he would turn the ream over and start again on the blank side. A single dot on each page.
Geoffrey and Jean took Adam to the pediatrician. Though Geoffrey shared the title “doctor” with Theresa Walker, she was the expert in this realm of science. She administered the Modified Checklist for Autism in Toddlers- the MCHAT. Afterwards she explained the test was known to give false negatives, but almost never gave false positives. The positive result they had received was not conclusive but likely. As time went by it became more than likely; Doctor Walker diagnosed Adam with autism.
As Doctor Goodwin locked his Acura and walked to Doctor Curtis's house, he remembered long hours sitting with his friend, discussing the possible reasons Adam had this condition. Geoffrey wondered if his own complex focus problems somehow passed to his son, if he might be responsible. For about a month after Adam turned two (and finally began speaking, albeit only in pairs of words, strung together in simple expressions of want or need) Geoffrey and Randall would sit in their shared office at the U of A, long after student hours. Randall would drink from a bottle of Scotch he kept in his desk, while Geoffrey lamented. It was one of those nights Randall was struck by Scotch influenced inspiration.
“So, autism is about connections, right? The connections in the brain?” he asked. Geoffrey, as always sober, nodded, then shook his head, his mind racing somewhat faster than his gestures and speech.
“Yes, it, well no. And yes. See, parts of the brain don't talk to each other enough, other parts suffer from hyper-connectivity. It's a different type of wiring. Some people don't even consider it a handicap, just a different type of thought.” Randall drained his glass before he continued.
“So think about it- where there should be yes, there's no. Where there should be no, there is yes. Now, think about this- what do we deal with every day? The whole basis of quantum mechanics is states of flux. Schrődinger's cat isn't alive or dead, it's both and neither. What if we applied that to Adam's brain? What if we got his synapses to work like that? Wouldn't observer effect dictate his synapses would work the way everyone expected?” Geoffrey was quiet for a moment. Then he walked out, barely remembering to mumble goodnight as he left. Randall was used to that from his friend. Hell, in college he had to remind him to shower.
A month before Adam's third birthday, Geoffrey walked in on Randall, and was smiling. Randall was supposed to be answering questions for a web article, but it was a pretty vapid interview asking questions about causality any decent Star Trek fan could answer, much less someone with a Nobel prize in Physics. Geoffrey never smiled, so Randall was immediately intrigued. Geoffrey sat at his desk, and for a moment looked at the pictures Adam had drawn pinned around his office walls. Some time ago, Adam had abandoned his dot obsession in favor of circles. The dots had gotten progressively larger on the paper, and eventually Adam had stopped filling them in. He drew concentric circles, or just spheres- some where so round they almost looked manufactured. Randall had considered getting Adam a child's compass for his birthday, but decided the boy didn't need one. Finally Geoffrey opened his notebook, and pushed a set of drawings and equations across the table. Randall was confused at first. “What's this?”
“You were right,” Geoffrey responded. Randall still wasn't sure what he was looking through.
“I was right about what?”
“You can apply quantum field theory to the way Adam thinks. We can build it.” More than two years later, Randall still smiled when he thought about Geoffrey's enthusiasm. Ringing the doorbell, he only wished it had all played out with more success.
Jean Curtis opened the door. There was a time, years ago, when Randall had considered the idea of dating Jean, but once he saw her meet Geoffrey he knew it wasn't going to happen. Jean understood Geoffrey in ways no one else would. To this day, she was his interface with the real world. Randall knew she managed the mortgage, the checkbook, Geoffrey's calendar; pretty much anything which involved her husband dealing with responsibilities to society. In the last three years she had become something of a lay expert on autism herself. “Hello Mrs. Curtis! You are looking as lovely and delightful as ever this evening...” She smiled at Randall's trademark flirtation, but unlike most nights did not return it.
“Hey Randall, c'mon in. Can I get you anything? Geoff's in his office.” Jean was the only person he knew, including himself, who called Geoffrey Curtis 'Geoff.' Maybe she was the only one who really knew him.
“I don't know-- I am still trying to figure out if this is a social call or if I should maintain a clear head.” He followed her down the hall toward the large office space Geoffrey kept in the back of the house. It was actually where the two had worked out the math for their last book. Jean looked a bit tired.
“When you hear what Geoff tells you, you will need a drink, either to keep the joke rolling or dispel your horror; I'm not sure which.” She cut into the kitchen to pour two fingers of the scotch Randall always bought for his own usage but kept at the Curtis house. Randall went on toward the office.
He walked past Adam's room, which was as always ridiculously meticulous. Everything exactly where it should be, and only the favored toys of the moment out. In this case there was what looked like a battalion of toy soldiers, probably some type of GI Joe figures. Probably five hundred figures stood on the floor. They were arranged in perfect formations, and seemed almost to be having some kind of ceremony. Randall felt disquiet for a moment with all those little plastic faces looking his way, but then was amused at his own discomfort. Adam often arranged his toys in lines or rows. Elsewhere in the house, he could hear Adam's five year old's voice making growling noises of some sort. After a moment trying to figure out what Adam was thinking, and then abandoning the idea, he knocked and went into Geoffrey's study.
Geoffrey sat in near darkness, his desk mostly cleared, but some of Adam's things on the surface. He was rocking slightly, a frenetic little nervous tick he usually only displayed when deep into “theorizing” as he called it. “Geoffrey- what's going on?” The other man didn't respond for a moment, and then looked up.
“Oh, Randall, sorry. I called you right? I mean, I called you on the phone to come here and talk, right?” Randall came the rest of the way in, and sat in his customary chair across the worktable from Geoffrey. About that time Jean came in with Randall's drink, and quietly excused herself after a nervous glance at Geoffrey. Randall took a sip.
“Yes, Geoffrey you called, me, now what's going on?” Geoffrey again glanced over the toys and drawings on his desk.
“Do you remember the day we tried the cap on Adam?”
Of course Randall remembered. Nine months of working with the neural pathology department to make an interface which would allow electric readings and feedback to and from the subject's brain. They had basically jumped on a device meant to allow paraplegics to control a computer with their thoughts. The original “BrainGate” device as it was called required surgery; a sensor interface implanted in a subject's brain. Neither Geoffrey nor Jean had wanted to implant anything in Adam's head, so the next step was contacting the Honda Corporation in Japan. They had been working on the Brain/Machine Interface, or BMI for short, as a method of using thought to control their Asimo robot. Though not as integrated as the BrainGate, it used electroencephalography and near-infrared spectroscopic sensors to transfer thought information. Once Randall was able to convince the Honda development team they were not simply committing industrial espionage, and that a young boy's ability to think was the subject at hand, they were happy to help. After trial and preparation, the then nearly four year old Adam came to the University with his father and mother. Adam had visited the campus before, but this was supposed to be special.
Adam was very quiet, and repeatedly stroking a small stuffed animal Randall remembered Jean had bought for Adam in the University gift shop. It was supposed to be a microbe, something you'd find floating in a brackish pond. It was the type of toy only a science nerd would buy, but it was the latest focus of Adam's attention. His fascination with circles and spheres had passed, and now it was microbes and bugs. Randall remembered at that moment really feeling that empathy and sympathy that had led him to come up with this idea in the first place.
Geoffrey and Randall led Adam into the small chair connected to a larger console with controls, and a small cap which would fit over Adam's head. Geoffrey had been meticulous in making sure the process would not be frightening nor uncomfortable for Adam. To be safe, there were two representatives from the neuropathology department, as well as Dr. Walker, the pediatrician. Randall had convinced her to be there, and shown her there would be no physical discomfort whatsoever. Indeed, once the interface was established, all Geoffrey would really be doing is transmitting equations into Adam's brain. She glazed over a bit when Randall told her the Schrődinger equation defined how the Hamiltonian observable energy would itself define how time evolution occurred within the environment of Adam's brain. Hell, half of his students would have glazed over at the explanation too. She agreed however, and helped them convince the University's governing board this was not human experimentation in the classical sense. To someone who didn't get off on doing math for hours on end as recreation, it would nearly appear to be magic; the math would tell Adam's brain it was fixed, and so it would be.
Adam sat, Geoffrey typed. Adam continued to stroke the toy, supposedly a stuffed version of the bacteria believed to be early life on Earth from a Martian rock. Everyone waited.
No one knew what to really expect, but no one had expected the effects which had manifested; none. Adam continued to communicate when directly asked questions, but no spare speech ever came from him. He continued to demonstrate obsessive behavior focused on themes and objects. He continued to periodically go into the refrigerator and line up all the condiments by colors in the spectrum. Months went by, and though the project had definitely made breakthroughs for the Neuro Pathology department and had helped them move forward with a neural interface for prosthetic limbs, Adam seemed exactly the same. Jean, Geoffrey, and Randall had almost gone through a small mourning process based on their disappointment, but had gone on. Adam was still the wonderful child they enjoyed before, and a blessing to them despite his being different. After all, they were Nobel prize winning scientists; weren't they different in their own ways? Ask any of the students who periodically had to sneak out of Geoffrey's mathematical fugue states. So they coped, and the day they used the “thinking cap” as Jean called it was left behind...but never truly forgotten.
“Yes Geoffrey, I remember using the cap. Why? Have you seen a result?” A warm flicker of hope tickled Randall's stomach, but perhaps it was the Scotch. Geoffrey picked up one of Adam's old drawings.
“I've been thinking. Look, this is Adam's first theme he perseverated. We had pages of nothing but a spot on a page.” He traded out for another drawing. “Remember these? His concentric circles drawings. Every now and then, there would be a spot along the circles.
“Then this,” Geoffrey said, holding up the stuffed microbe Randall remembered from the day of the Thinking Cap. “This was what Jean called his bug phase. That's kind of misleading- he didn't really look at insects until later. He would perseverate amoebas and parameciums, and I think somewhere we have a stack of pages where he traced the diagram of protein peptides out of the encyclopedia. Then look. His plant phase, his dinosaur phase.” Geoffrey punctuated the dinosaur phase by holding up broken dinosaur toys. “He'd never broken his toys, but one day he decided there wouldn't be any more dinosaurs, and he went out back and smashed them all with a rock. That was when he started carrying this.” Geoffrey picked up a stuffed monkey, which had seen better days. Much of it's fur was plucked out.
“See, he liked monkeys, then he decided it needed to lose its hair and become like a person. That's when he started asking for action figures like his GI Joes. Do you see the pattern?” Geoffrey looked a little obsessive himself. Randall emptied his scotch, and had to admit he had no idea what Geoffrey was talking about.
“It's what Adam plays with. Typical autistic behavior, bouncing from object to object or subject to subject, demonstrating obsessive behavior. What pattern?” Geoffrey shook his head.
“No- the spots. That's the cosmological zero point. The concentric circles; those are atoms, then solar systems. Then microbial life, turning to plants, then the reptiles, mammals, and finally man. This is the history of the world playing out in his head.”
“So what?” Randall replied. “You have no shortage of books in this house, you're a professor. Your wife might as well have her doctorate. He absorbed things you weren't expecting, why is that bad?” Geoffrey got up and started to pace now as he continued. This was usually reserved only for his most concentrated theorizing sessions.
“What if we made a mistake? We've been looking at how the thinking cap would affect Adam's brain, his behavior. We never considered how his brain would affect the science.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Exasperated, Geoffrey continued. “Randall! For thirty minutes, we shoved half the theoretical concepts defining how the universe is made up into a four year old autistic brain. We expected observer effect and waveform collapse to help him think, but look what we did- we made him the observer! We opened him up to states of quantum flux and entanglement, and dear Lord, even anentropic stasis outside of time/space! We planted the keys to the kingdom in his head, opened the door to infinity!” Geoffrey was almost ranting, and Randall was becoming annoyed.
“You're usually a better scientist than poet. You really think your son is having some effect on the universe as a whole? How does a four year old affect events billions of years old?”
“That's my point! If we opened him up to states of existence where time is either fluid or non-existent, then we made him timeless. Picture it in your head. If you are traveling on a highway, but then get in a helicopter and hover high enough to see the whole highway, its like observing the entire journey at once. Now instead of a highway, think of it as linear time. Once you step out of linear time, the observer will always have been outside of linear time. The observer can affect things before the observer appeared in the timeline because the observer now predates, postdates, surrounds time itself. Any observer who leaves time becomes infinite in scope!”
Randall was still unconvinced. “Even assuming there is a 'doorway to the infinite' to have opened and shown to Adam, how does a four year old human mind or consciousness possibly affect the entire universe, much less evolution on Earth?” Geoffrey went to his whiteboard, pulled the cap off a dry erase marker and began to sketch out an exponent series.
“The mind would then have time to develop- well, that's a misnomer, there wouldn't actually be time, but there would be a infinite amount of 'now' to become whatever it wanted. The observer mind could evolve endlessly, with no temporal or physical constraint. It begins to observe itself as something greater, and the observer effect starts working like two mirrors facing each other, continually passing the observation.” His number sequence done, having reached enormous quantities through exponential multiplication, Geoffrey collapsed back into his chair. The two men sat silently. Finally Randall spoke.
“You're trying to tell me the mind of God is that of an autistic four year old.”
Geoffrey slowly nodded. “I just don't know if he's still connected to that plane, or if the Adam who touched infinity now exists independently from all of us.” Randall wished he had more scotch.
“Geoffrey. You're being irrational. You're a scientist- we tried to help your son, and it didn't work, so now you are transferring your guilt into fear. Just stop. Take tomorrow off and play with your son, hang out with your wife. I'll cover your two o'clock. Rest up with your family, and we'll get together on Saturday to laugh about this, OK? Just get some rest. Adam is a good boy. You need to stop feeling guilty about his autism, and about not being able to help him. You need to let it be Geoffrey. I will see you Saturday.” Geoffrey remained quiet for a moment more.
“Before you go, you should know. Adam stopped playing with his GI Joes today. He set them up in a last formation to be deactivated.” For a moment, the scene of the meticulously placed toys flashed in Randall's mind's eye, then he dismissed it.
“Bye Geoff. Relax, OK?” Randall got up, and turned to the door. Adam was standing there. He didn't quite look at Randall, almost as if embarrassed. He was in his pajamas, and held a strange little doll, a four armed creature of some sort with reddish skin and a huge head.
“Hi Adam. What do you have there?” In response to Randall, Adam held up the toy for a better look. Pretty grotesque. “What do you call it?”
“This is specimen JS5467. He was genetically engineered by humans to go to space. Instead he takes over the world and makes more like him. He's the next step.” As was typical, Adam would respond to a direct question, and provide technical reasons for his answer. If Randall had said, “what's new with you?” Adam would likely have listed new toys in purchase order.
“Cool. Go tell your mom I am leaving and I will call Saturday, OK?” Adam nodded, and padded away in his little footies, JS5467 in his hands while Adam stroked it like a pet.
Randall let himself out, and went back to his car. For just a moment he looked up into the warm Arizona night sky. Even in a city like Tucson, the skies were usually clear enough to make out most stars. Randall compared them in their universal journey for a moment to the crayon circles of a child. Then he got in his car and went home.
Doctor Jorge Suntila had champagne for lunch in Helsinki, Finland about the same time Doctor Randall Goodwin arrived home. He was celebrating. For the first time, his attempts to combine recombinant DNA into an amalgamated life form had maintained stability for more than a few minutes. Nearly six hours had passed before the protein bonds let go, and the labelled petri dish then held the equivalent of the primordial soup. This was a victory; the bonds were getting stronger. Soon, he would be able to get them to stick- he could create bio-forms which would convert CO2 into oxygen faster than plants, or eat oil and excrete water. Perhaps he could engineer bio-forms which could go into environments in which humans could not survive and work; the reactors of nuclear plants, the bottom of the ocean- even distant planets where they could explore for us. He'd been working so long at it. He glanced at his sample label on this last one-- JS5461; well over five thousand attempts. Nonetheless, he would start work on JS5462 tomorrow. Just a few more experiments, then he could show his findings. He could feel it- no more than a couple more steps. From there, who knew what he could accomplish.
The End
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
For my hundredth post, I become a Trek Protestant.
Wow- 100 posts here on Black Owl. Those of you who read, thank you. Those who don't but still manage to get this... who are you? Are you stalking me?
Seriously though, let me point out on this occasion that I recently started Twittering. It's not really a useful thing, but it is oddly enjoyable, particularly when people you don't know start following, and you can follow people you wish you knew. Appealing on some social level I guess, though I wonder if it takes away too much time from experiencing the Big Blue Room. Of course, I am still in Washington, so the Big Room is usually gray and wet.
If you haven't checked out the website the above picture is from, please do. Much funny there if you know your Trek, and even if you are only familiar with the cliches, it is amusing. I credit and thank them as I steal from them for the picture below. I feel a little bit like Martin Luther nailing up 95 theses... perhaps even a little dirty. But do you see it? It's there... it's there. Indulge this shameful mancrush! Old Kirk defined cool- new Kirk's taking the ball and running with it.
Heck yeah!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
What did you know, and when did you know it?
Ok, so according to this CNN story, Nancy Pelosi knew about the so-called enhanced interrogation techniques used by CIA operatives in Abu Ghurayb. Knowing about it, though something of a problem for me, is not what I really have a problem with. It's the lying about knowing about it. It's the same problem I had with Bill Clinton- I don't care he got a hummer while on the phone with a congressman; I care that he looked me and my fellow Americans in the eye and lied about it. There are secrets- got it. Then there are lies to cover your ass.
If these charges against the Speaker are true, she needs to step down. She needs to get out of the way as an example that no one is immune in this situation. Officials who approved it should be indicted. People who covered it up should be indicted. I don't know if Pelosi covered up the torture, or just the fact she knew about it. Either way, she was covering her ass, and she needs to take responsibility. Personal responsibility is becoming as uncommon as common sense.
Monday, May 11, 2009
OK, I give up.
+++++++spoilers follow!!!+++++++++++++
So, I watched it again, and by it I of course mean the new JJ Abrams Star Trek. Pour my Kool-Aid, shave my head, I'm joining the cult. I do indeed believe this is not only a great movie, but a great move for Star Trek. Don't think I have lost my affection for TNG or DS9 or ENT even (never had too much affection for VOY). I can however accept that this is the way forward for Star Trek.
Sure, I had to sacrifice Vulcan. However, as I think back at how many times I have sat in practiced expectation while watching an episode of Trek, waiting for someone to push what I like to call the “Temporal Reset Button” and undo whatever time travel induced changes the villain wrought, I realize this is a great way to show there's no going back. We are playing for keeps. If that is so, then think about the possibilities for future films-
Imagine real Klingons- not bumpy headed Vikings, real honest to God Klingons with smooth brows and goatees, foils for Kirk matching him intellectually as well as physically. Imagine Romulans who return to their Roman-like roots, creatures of honor and discipline, as passionate as their Vulcan cousins are repressed. Boldly going again, optimistic, yet ready to make sure some asses get kicked when they need it. Imagine certain tales being re-experienced. “A Taste of Mercy” where the Enterprise tries to stop the war between Eminiar 7 and Vendikar before the Klingons can take advantage of two planets with virtually no weapons. Imagine Sarek trying to get Spock to leave Uhura and marry T'Pring because there are only a handful of Vulcans left, and there's a responsibility to his heritage. Imagine there's still a sleeper ship from the late 20th Century floating out there, it's crew waiting to be thawed. Amazing possibilities.
On a second viewing, I noticed some more golden moments- the Shatnerian delivery Pine gives during the Kobayashi Maru. Punk Kirk truly becoming Captain Kirk when he starts talking to “his” crew. Spock telling Kirk “out of the chair.” Pike's “punch it,” twice, to Mr. Sulu. Chekov swearing loudly in Russian when he beams up Kirk and Sulu. Spock pulling a Star Trek IV Scotty with Scotty (how d'ya know he dinna invent the thing?). Now, think about this- even in the Next Generation timeframe, warp beaming only works if you can match speed. So, if Scotty wrote the equations, then he must have done it after he reappeared in the 24th Century! Very subtle reference, very nice.
So, there's a whole new Trek, and I have 19 year old kids asking me to burn classic episodes for them because they fell in love with the characters in this film. One day, I can show this movie to grandkids. And best of all, this is new Star Trek, no-colon-fill-in-the-blank Star Trek, but new Star Trek with Kirk, Spock, and Bones, and they aren't seasoned adventurers, but rather in their prime, galloping around the Galaxy, practicing cowboy diplomacy, and going boldly.
Yeah, I'm on board. Sign me up. I just wish I could tune in next week for the next voyage.
So, I watched it again, and by it I of course mean the new JJ Abrams Star Trek. Pour my Kool-Aid, shave my head, I'm joining the cult. I do indeed believe this is not only a great movie, but a great move for Star Trek. Don't think I have lost my affection for TNG or DS9 or ENT even (never had too much affection for VOY). I can however accept that this is the way forward for Star Trek.
Sure, I had to sacrifice Vulcan. However, as I think back at how many times I have sat in practiced expectation while watching an episode of Trek, waiting for someone to push what I like to call the “Temporal Reset Button” and undo whatever time travel induced changes the villain wrought, I realize this is a great way to show there's no going back. We are playing for keeps. If that is so, then think about the possibilities for future films-
Imagine real Klingons- not bumpy headed Vikings, real honest to God Klingons with smooth brows and goatees, foils for Kirk matching him intellectually as well as physically. Imagine Romulans who return to their Roman-like roots, creatures of honor and discipline, as passionate as their Vulcan cousins are repressed. Boldly going again, optimistic, yet ready to make sure some asses get kicked when they need it. Imagine certain tales being re-experienced. “A Taste of Mercy” where the Enterprise tries to stop the war between Eminiar 7 and Vendikar before the Klingons can take advantage of two planets with virtually no weapons. Imagine Sarek trying to get Spock to leave Uhura and marry T'Pring because there are only a handful of Vulcans left, and there's a responsibility to his heritage. Imagine there's still a sleeper ship from the late 20th Century floating out there, it's crew waiting to be thawed. Amazing possibilities.
On a second viewing, I noticed some more golden moments- the Shatnerian delivery Pine gives during the Kobayashi Maru. Punk Kirk truly becoming Captain Kirk when he starts talking to “his” crew. Spock telling Kirk “out of the chair.” Pike's “punch it,” twice, to Mr. Sulu. Chekov swearing loudly in Russian when he beams up Kirk and Sulu. Spock pulling a Star Trek IV Scotty with Scotty (how d'ya know he dinna invent the thing?). Now, think about this- even in the Next Generation timeframe, warp beaming only works if you can match speed. So, if Scotty wrote the equations, then he must have done it after he reappeared in the 24th Century! Very subtle reference, very nice.
So, there's a whole new Trek, and I have 19 year old kids asking me to burn classic episodes for them because they fell in love with the characters in this film. One day, I can show this movie to grandkids. And best of all, this is new Star Trek, no-colon-fill-in-the-blank Star Trek, but new Star Trek with Kirk, Spock, and Bones, and they aren't seasoned adventurers, but rather in their prime, galloping around the Galaxy, practicing cowboy diplomacy, and going boldly.
Yeah, I'm on board. Sign me up. I just wish I could tune in next week for the next voyage.
Friday, May 08, 2009
So I boldly went to a movie...
Never let it be said that I don't fulfill my promises! I said I would give my review of the new Star Trek movie, and indeed here it is. I have to start out by saying I really need to see this movie again, once it was finished, I was immediately struck by how full this movie was, and there was no way I had absorbed it all in a single viewing. The thing is this; I can't just review the film, because I have to put it in context with my general love of Trek. To be completely honest, I still have to figure that part out, as I will talk about as we go along.
Let me give my quick non-spoiler version-- it is an excellent, smart, summer blockbuster. It's full of adventure, and great moments, and great characters. If you know nothing about Trek, you will love it. If you know everything about Trek, you will probably still love it. There are nitpicks, but what Trek movie or series hasn't had its share of those? Despite some clever elements to the contrary, this in essence is a Battlestar Galactica style reboot, and makes for a Trek fresher than we've seen in quite a while. For my personal hangups, you have to delve into spoiler territory.
SPOILERS+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
NO, SERIOUSLY SPOILERS!+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
ENGAGE SPOILERS++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I won't get into how great the cast is as these characters- they really are. The only standout as not feeling genuine is Simon Pegg, and that is nothing against him, but rather a script which has a character named Scotty who is a lot more Simon Pegg than Scotty.
Pine isn't Captain Kirk at first, but basically just your typical wiseass, however, there is a particular moment in the film when Kirk has assumed command of the Enterprise, and he start giving orders and... there he is, Captain Kirk.
Quinto as Spock has a scene where he is standing before the admissions board of the Vulcan Science Academy, and its a scene we've seen alluded to in Trek repeatedly. In this moment though, Quinto takes ownership of the character of Spock, particularly against the backdrop of Leonard Nimoy in the film. Nimoy's Spock seems less the character he's been playing for 44 years, and more... well Nimoy. Ironically, I came out of this film feeling Quinto was more Spock than... Spock.
Now- the two real standouts here are Karl Urban as Doctor McCoy and Bruce Greenwood as Christopher Pike (above). Neither one had as much screentime as I wanted them to, but both instill their characters with the delightful essence of the original characters. Can't wait to see these two in these roles again.
Zoe Saldana has a remarkable confidence as Uhura, but it is almost overshadowed by the decision to have Spock and Uhura romantically involved. I don't mind that relationship. There's certainly precedent for the idea in the Original Series. However, I would love to have seen the relationship actually develop on screen as opposed to catching it already in place.
John Cho's Sulu and Anton Yelchin's Chekov get some good moments each, and I love Chekov as this 17 year old Russian whizkid. It's funny to listen to a guy who really is Russian deliver the cheesiest fake Russian accent you will ever hear. Sulu gets some swordplay, and flies the hell out of the Enterprise, and that's cool.
Be fair-warned if you are a fan; we do get a bone about this story originating in the Trek universe we know, however the explanation they give really doesn't explain how different everything is. It's a clever thought, and not a throw away, but falls apart under careful scrutiny. Warp physics, transporter technology- completely different. Starfleet ships, including the Kelvin which shows up as existing BEFORE the time incursion from the future which changes everything, are far larger and more mechanical than before. In the "Prime" universe, a ship like the Kelvin in the year 2233 wouldn't have a crew larger than 200- the Kelvin would seem to have four times that. Instead of cramped hallways and clean spaces we get these cavernous areas on the ship much larger than anything we've seen even on ships like the Enterprise D in Next Generation. For the most part though, with these differences, you don't care. It's all exciting. I don't care for a lot of the external features of the new Enterprise, but I wasn't really impressed in my initial impression of the 1701D, so it may grow on me.
So what's my hang up? They destroy the planet Vulcan. Vulcan epitomizes the universe Trek exists in for me. Now, it's gone. I am not sure I can get over that. I am not sure how interested I am in a Trek universe which only has 10,000 Vulcans in it. It was a ballsy thing to do, and certainly demonstrates the fact that this is not a movie which suffers from the prequel curse that we know how it all turns out in the end. However, there's no fixing this timeline. Vulcan is gone, so TNG will not happen that way in this universe. DS9, Voyager- precluded (though maybe with Voyager, that's not a bad thing). I would personally have been more comfortable with them destroying Earth than Vulcan. Only time will tell how I will adapt to that change.
There's a few more little things I think I would have done differently. I would like to have seen a few more familiar aliens; would an Andorian have killed them? Not sure how I feel about the bastard child of the Jem'Hadar and the Oompa Loompa either. Since we're on the subject of Willie Wonka, I would certainly have cut Scotty's wild ride through the Enterprise's waterworks (at least it wasn't a sewer line).
However, I think I am overall quite pleased, and do look forward to seeing it again to absorb a little more. It is ultimately a very re-watchable movie, and exciting, and cool, and not stupid. Gotta see how my Vulcan feelings go though before I can decide how I truly feel about Crisis on Infinite Treks. Welcome to Star Trek's new age.
Before I go, there's another factor I have to discuss, and that is the second and third order effects of this film. I saw the movie with my wife, children, dear friends, and good acquaintances. Some of them were big Trek fans, some just moderately knowledgeable, and some (like my daughter) downright hostile toward Trek (I had to offer her a day off from school just to get her to go). When it was over, my daughter liked it a lot, and only we of the long time Trek fan variety had any real reservations about it. So, we came home, and my TOS fan friend and I started talking Trek, and spent the next two and a half hours really talking nothing but- favorite episodes, least favorite, what we liked or didn't like about the other series, etc. Then, the next day at work, I spent most of the day talking about the movie with people who hadn't seen it and wanted my opinion, and a couple who had and wanted more insight into Classic Trek. I spent a good thirty minutes talking over forty year old Trek episodes with a young man who was born during the third season of Next Generation! He wants to watch some of the old ones, and so does his young wife. If this movie can get attention for the original, and give we old timers a chance to remanence to each other and bring young fans in, I really can't fault it. If I am going to drink the kool-aid on this one, if I am going to part with my beloved Vulcan, it's that factor which will do it.
And maybe this will do for this generation what TOS did- already I see it on the cover of Newsweek, and on blogs and websites which wouldn't touch the subject a few weeks ago. Maybe last years The Dark Knight, though great, was as far as we need to plumb our depths of entertainment despair as a nation. Maybe it's time we looked across the street at those different than us, and then looked up and said "let's go out there." Hope isn't outdated and campy and dressed in cardboard sets. It isn't something we left behind in the 60's... it's now. It's exciting, and palpable, and it's moving at warp speed. Maybe, regardless of "canon" and technobabble, it's time for Trek to be cool again.
Wow. What a world where Battlestar Galactica is the emotion driven drama, Star Trek is the epic mythological space fantasy, and Star Wars is the kid level TV show derivative of better properties.
I may just need to beam aboard for that.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
I told myself I wouldn't do this...
So, I have been very specifically avoiding any discussion of the new Star Trek film here until I see the movie (this Thursday in Imax if you are waiting for my review...). Regardless of how good or bad the film may be, I was really looking forward to the fact new action figures for the film were coming out in 3 3/4" scale, my favorite figure scale. Sure, I still have some Star Trek: The Motion Picture 3 3/4" figures from 1979, and some Star Trek: The Next Generation 3 3/4" figures from 1987. Finally though I was going to get Classic Starfleet uniforms in the type of scale which would allow Kenner Boba Fett to flee from Hasbro Indiana Jones in my Mattel Dark Knight Batmobile until stopped by GI Joe's Snake Eyes, and beamed onto the bridge by 3 3/4" Scotty. Dream come true, right?
Well, the lovely Jennifer went out and bought all ten of the new figures for me on the day they came out, and they were awful- really poorly produced by Playmates toys. I also bought the Bridge playset (needed it for the above scenario), and it came out of the box damaged.
So, not one to stand for having Geekus Interruptus, I emailed pictures of all the problems- bad molds, lousy paint jobs, broken screens, all to Playmates toys. I then went off on a rant about how well they handled the Trek license in the 90's (I still have a couple HUNDRED of those figures!) and how disappointed I was over this new line. I figured that was that.
Today in the mail, I received free of charge replacement parts for my bridge, and a whole new Kirk figure. Oddly enough, it is much better produced than the ones I bought in the store! Here's a couple of pics:
The non-lipstick wearing Kirk on the right is the gratis Captain...
Playmates had my money- I had already bought all their crappy action figures, yet they bothered to send me not only replacements, but improvements! Good on them. That's a type of customer service sorely lacking these days. Hopefully the next set they put out meet this figures standards.
As for the movie... I will give you my deep thoughts in a week or so, until then click here to read my 2006 dissertation on Trek. Live Long and Prosper.
Well, the lovely Jennifer went out and bought all ten of the new figures for me on the day they came out, and they were awful- really poorly produced by Playmates toys. I also bought the Bridge playset (needed it for the above scenario), and it came out of the box damaged.
So, not one to stand for having Geekus Interruptus, I emailed pictures of all the problems- bad molds, lousy paint jobs, broken screens, all to Playmates toys. I then went off on a rant about how well they handled the Trek license in the 90's (I still have a couple HUNDRED of those figures!) and how disappointed I was over this new line. I figured that was that.
Today in the mail, I received free of charge replacement parts for my bridge, and a whole new Kirk figure. Oddly enough, it is much better produced than the ones I bought in the store! Here's a couple of pics:
The non-lipstick wearing Kirk on the right is the gratis Captain...
Playmates had my money- I had already bought all their crappy action figures, yet they bothered to send me not only replacements, but improvements! Good on them. That's a type of customer service sorely lacking these days. Hopefully the next set they put out meet this figures standards.
As for the movie... I will give you my deep thoughts in a week or so, until then click here to read my 2006 dissertation on Trek. Live Long and Prosper.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Dropping the F-Bomb to stop torture.
Sheppard Smith just became my favorite Fox News reporter (my apologies to the lovely Patti Ann Browne). There's been a lot of debate whether waterboarding and torture are OK if they saved American lives. Shep sums it up here:
Damn right. Look, go look at my previous posts regarding my firm, and you will see I have been a professional inquisitor for a long time. I know the ins and outs of this stuff. The former Vice President and his lawyers can argue all they want that these techniques got info- the point is irrelevant for two reasons. One, Shep makes quite eloquently above; two, its is a fact, not opinion, fact that in the majority of detainees, harsh techniques will either harden their resolve (particularly in the ideologically motivated like... oh, I don't know, fundamentalist Islamists?), or make them give false info. Which means even if we got info while drowning people, we will NEVER KNOW how much more we would have gotten if we had done it right. Would we have ended the insurgency in Iraq already? Captured 'Usama bin Ladin? Stopped the Taliban's inroads into Pakistan? We don't know.
And we should. Professional interrogation would likely have provided information for all those things. Instead, we had a bunch of people who used techniques from SERE (Survive, Evade, Resist, Escape) training. I've been an interrogator at a SERE school. We were there to be the BAD GUYS. We were there to elicit FALSE CONFESSIONS. What genius was sitting around saying "hey- here's the most important detainees the US has had to question since the Nuremburg Trials; lets act like the bad guys and get them to confess to things they didn't do!"? What kind of person thinks that's a good idea?
Oh. Yikes.
Damn right. Look, go look at my previous posts regarding my firm, and you will see I have been a professional inquisitor for a long time. I know the ins and outs of this stuff. The former Vice President and his lawyers can argue all they want that these techniques got info- the point is irrelevant for two reasons. One, Shep makes quite eloquently above; two, its is a fact, not opinion, fact that in the majority of detainees, harsh techniques will either harden their resolve (particularly in the ideologically motivated like... oh, I don't know, fundamentalist Islamists?), or make them give false info. Which means even if we got info while drowning people, we will NEVER KNOW how much more we would have gotten if we had done it right. Would we have ended the insurgency in Iraq already? Captured 'Usama bin Ladin? Stopped the Taliban's inroads into Pakistan? We don't know.
And we should. Professional interrogation would likely have provided information for all those things. Instead, we had a bunch of people who used techniques from SERE (Survive, Evade, Resist, Escape) training. I've been an interrogator at a SERE school. We were there to be the BAD GUYS. We were there to elicit FALSE CONFESSIONS. What genius was sitting around saying "hey- here's the most important detainees the US has had to question since the Nuremburg Trials; lets act like the bad guys and get them to confess to things they didn't do!"? What kind of person thinks that's a good idea?
Oh. Yikes.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
10 Things I Will Miss About Washington State
So, having kind of made a home up here, my firm has of course decided I have to move. Very well, but here's ten reasons I love this area, and plan to come back.
1) The Olympia/Tacoma area is equal parts hippie and redneck; there's plenty of people to make fun of!
2) Olympic Cards and Comics: best comic shop on Earth. Period.
3) Guy in my neighborhood walks his kids to the bus stop each morning. With his two pet ducks.
4) Trees.
5) Lisa Gangel, KING 5 sports anchor. First person to ever make me feel squishy about sports.
6) Every day is like living in an episode of Twin Peaks.
7) Coffee Shacks. They are everywhere. Nearly every corner. Even the redneck areas. Look at this coffee barn 60 miles from Seattle in Roy, WA and remember point one.
8) The coach of the Seahawks gets on local television after every game and apologizes.
9) Lakes.
10) Mt Rainier, the area's foremost landmark, is actually a dormant volcano expected to kill everything in a 50 mile radius in the next 10 to 100 years. That's adventure. Every day. Any day. Yikes. Nothing says great place to live like imminent death!
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Y'all don't come back now, y'hear?
So, Texas Governor Rick Perry while speaking as a tea-bagger (snort) mentioned secession. Secession because a fairly elected president who can be voted out in less than four years raised taxes (for 2% of the people, we'll talk about the deficit later).
I have long said the best thing I ever saw in my career with my firm was Texas in the rear view mirror.
Let us know how your Southern Border fares with no Federal Law Enforcement. I can only ask why you couldn't have done it before you foisted W. on us...
Monday, April 06, 2009
...and it will all happen again.
So sue me- I am a big geek, and I am not done talking about Battlestar Galactica. I decided I couldn't just ignore the series finale, so if you have not seen it:
THIS ENTIRE BLOG ENTRY HAS SPOILERS FROM THE LAST EPISODE OF BATTLESTAR GALACTICA!!!!!! DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Turn back now...
You are warned....
Jump...
I had initially wanted to go back and give my five favorite moments from the finale- get it? The Final Five! However, I couldn't. I was able to winnow it down to seven, but the simple fact is I could give you at least four more. I am down to seven though, and I think they give the flavor of this fantastic finale, and hit on some of the controversies as well.
1)Saul has a great idea: In order to attack the Cylon colony hanging in the accretion disc of a black hole, they Galactica has wired Sam Anders, 2000 year old Cylon, into the ship. This means Cylon tech all over the CiC. Adama looks at his XO, of course one of those old Cylons himself, in exasperation. Tigh reminds Adama, “You know it's not to late to put them all out the airlock...”
2)Flank Speed: Having jumped right into the field of the Cylon colonies guns, the Galactica uses Anders to shut the defenses down. So without the guns blazing, how do you get your troops onto the colony to find Hera? Well ram into them at full speed and wiggle your ship like a tick working its head in, of course! The old girl shows she still has some fight in her, and Lee Adama leads in troops by just jumping out the front window. Yikes.
3)”You see them too?” After years of a lovely version of Six dancing in Gaius Baltar's head, and a suave Baltar in Caprica Six's head, the flesh and blood versions of these characters admit their true love for one another. Then they start seeing each others' hallucinations, and we begin to realize this is not just in their heads.
4)Baltar explains it all: Having lived through seeing his fantasy made flesh, and then reliving his vision of the Opera House, we realize there can only be one Opera House, and that's the CIC of the Galactica herself. Gaius and Six walk in as the Five look down like the Lords of Kobol themselves on the carnage below. Then, when a Number One desperately tries to escape...Baltar gets it. Baltar saves humanity with a simple revelation: revelations aren't all that simple.
5)Starbuck finds peace: Yeah, I know. This is almost the most controversial moment in the whole series. Kara finally realizes she has saved humanity, and the Cylons, and found them their home. She is done- the destiny she died to fulfill is done. She finally can put it all aside- the men, the drinking, the struggles with her fate, her faith, and herself. And while Lee's back is turned, she goes home. What more do you need, but to know she is happy? Goodbye Kara...
6)Baltar becomes a farmer: Humanity and the surviving Cylons are spreading across the planet they will now dub “Earth,” and Baltar and Six will go off together. I smiled when Starbuck left, but when I watched Gaius realize that his true destiny was that he fought so hard to avoid, that he would in fact return to the life he grew up with... well, when he cried, so did I. “I do know something about farming,” he says as he breaks down in realization, and perhaps more than a little release. “I know you do,” Caprica gently tells him. Wow.
7)Adama and Roslin build their cabin: As if I wasn't weepy enough from Baltar becoming a farmer, Adama takes Laura away as she succumbs to the cancer she's fought since the first episode. He finally finds the perfect spot for their cabin, but just too late. And yet as it fades, you know he will love her forever, and die at her side. May we all be that sure in our love.
So- there it is, what should be my last BSG blog and review. Yeah, I could still pick out some show moments, like Dualla's final decision, or Ellen Tigh's first appearance, or even Starbuck and the Eye of Jupiter, or familiar angels in Times Square listening to Hendrix. Time to let it rest though, because I have a feeling after they air the TV movie “The Plan” later this year I am going to have to watch it all again. After all, it has all happened before... and I am really looking forward to watching it all happen again.
I was posting this when something occurred to me: Several of these moments are Baltar. He's been the villain, the weasel, the nut job, the traitor, the collaborator; yet, in the end he saves humanity, and discovers the truth. Now THAT'S what I call character development.
End of line.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
This has all happened before...
One week has basically passed since I watched the last episode of Battlestar Galactica. I initially intended to write a complete review of all four seasons, including all the emotional investment I had in this show. After page six I realized I was really on an incoherent rant of adoration, so I have decided to regroup and try again, and maybe, just maybe I will let the long version out one day. Likely not though...
Battlestar Galactica is simply the finest piece of drama ever aired on television. From plot to character development, to Special Effects; simply fantastic, and surpasses my former favorite, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Rather than go on for paragraphs without end about how I discovered and grew with this show, I am going to list my ten favorite moments. If you have not seen season 4.5, stay away from 8, 9, and 10.
1) Lee Adama blows up a civilian transport. I was intrigued by the miniseries, but it was the first regular episode, “33,” which sealed the deal for me. For five days, the Cylons have ambushed Galactica and the fleet every 33 minutes. Finally, it seems the civilian vessel “The Olympic Carrier” might in fact be under the control of Cylon agents. There's no time to investigate, there's no time to evacuate. Adama orders Apollo to blow it up. That's when I knew this wasn't just any show.
2) Boomer lets everyone know she's a Cylon. We find out Boomer is really a Cylon at the end of the miniseries. Everyone else on Galactica finds out when she walks into the CiC and puts two rounds into Commander Adama's chest. Now that's a cliffhanger!
3) Pegasus returns. We find out Galactica was not the only surviving Battlestar, but Admiral Cain of the Pegasus is a lot more Darwinian then Adama. She's all about human survival; at least the ones who follow her orders.
4) Baltar wakes up one year later. The Colonists elect Baltar president, find a place to settle down, and form New Caprica. He's napping on his desk one day when he wakes up to the Cylon fleet flying over. So begins the occupation.
5) Saul gives Ellen a drink. During the Cylon occupation, Saul Tigh, Galen Tyrol, and Sam Anders run a resistance. In order to save Saul, his wife Ellen gives information to the Cylon occupiers. Saul poisons her. Here's a character I hated for this entire run, and in the moment she looks at the cup and says, “I'm thirsty,” you want it not to happen. Yet it does. And she dies.
6) Crossroads Part II. In ten minutes time, four characters we've been watching for years are revealed as Cylons, those Cylons are drawn together by the song “All Along the Watchtower,” and Starbuck comes back from the dead to lead them all to Earth. Everything you thought you knew about the show was torn away in ten minutes. Holy Frak.
7) The fleet finds Earth. All the signs and portents of the past three years bring them to a blue planet. They fly down to the surface; it's a ruined radioactive cinder. Earth, a world of Cylons, destroyed itself 2000 years earlier.
SPOILER ALERT!!!!!! IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN 4.5 DO NOT READ 8, 9, OR 10!!!
8) Gaeta's stump stops itching. Having lost his leg to Starbuck's quest for Earth, and then watching the fleet ally itself with Cylons, and THEN finding out Earth was a joke, Gaeta teams up with Tom Zarek to overthrow Adama. The whole episode, his stump itches and bothers him. When finally arrested and awaiting execution, he looks down at his stump in amazement. “It stopped,” he says, as the rifles fire.
9) Roslin is coming for all of you. During Gaeta and Zarek's coup, Roslin escapes to the allied Basestar. Zarek tells her over the radio Adama is dead. Roslin becomes death incarnate. The Cylons she's hanging out with? Scared Shitless. Roslin delivers the most chilling threat in literary history when asked to surrender:
No. Not now. Not ever. Do you hear me? I will use every cannon, every bomb, every bullet, every weapon I have down to my own eyeteeth to end you. I swear it! I'm coming for all of you!
In that moment, while the murderous, genocidal machines look on in horror, Laura Roslin becomes one of the five hottest women in Science Fiction history. She was always an attractive older woman. Right there though? Smokin' hot.
10) Starbuck learns Dylan. A mysterious piano player shows up, and reminds Starbuck of her father. He manages to remind her of a song her father used to play on piano...little ditty called “All Along the Watchtower.” The look on Saul Tigh's face when she plays it is absolutely priceless.
And that brings us to the finale- perfect. Completely perfect, I don't care what anyone may say about Starbuck's fate, the identity of the Cylon God (who doesn't like being called that) or Mitochondrial Eve. The show winds up exactly where it must, yet not in any way I could have predicted. Marvelous. I won't, but I could double the length of this list with moments only from that final episode.
END OF SPOILERS!!!!!
So now it is gone, and I am going to miss it. I will tell you this. This is classic storytelling- the type of storytelling which will mean something different at different stages in your life, like a Shakespearian classic, or something by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Yet, the show was full of spaceships and robots. If you are a fan of truly great human drama, watch Battlestar. It happens to be sci fi, but I don't think you'll find anything in any genre more compelling. Thank you Ron Moore. I can't wait to watch it all again.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Much better.
This young lady needs to be the future of the Republican Party.
Perhaps one day I will vote for a McCain again.
Perhaps one day I will vote for a McCain again.
John Galt who?
“Who is John Galt?” That's the question Ayn Rand opens the novel Atlas Shrugged with. Why do I pose it now? Well as of late I keep hearing people on the Conservative side saying Rand should provide a model for society, particularly this novel. Michelle Malkin recently cited the strike of the prime movers, or “Going Galt” as a way to stop the path of nationalization and socialization she sees sweeping the country. Stephen Colbert, in his usually hilarious irony, talked about the book, but used the description of the story as the one the Malkins of the world are hanging on to- The Government sets out to make sure the lazy can live off the fruits of the talented and these “Prime Movers” leave to start their own society where everything is pure unadulterated capitalism. Well Stephen and Michelle, now that we've discussed the Cliff's Notes summary of Atlas Shrugged, let's talk about it from the perspective of someone who actually read the book. I think both sides are going to be a little surprised by what they find.
Before I begin, let me state something quite bluntly: regardless of what fans of the book say, Rand's version of Capitalism is every bit as Utopian as Marx's Communism. I think there are some phenomenal ideas in this book, but as with any philosophy, it has to be filtered pragmatically through the real world for actual application. The thing is, the book is exceedingly Libertarian, and not Conservative, despite conservative efforts to claim John Galt. Indeed, looking at the recently departed administration, John Galt would be every bit as contemptuous of Bush era economics as he would the current lefty folks.
Take the characters of Orren Boyle and Wesley Mouch. Mr. Boyle is the head of a steel conglomerate which really makes an inferior product. However, he uses Washington lobbyists like Wesley Mouch to get contracts and help to keep his business going. Indeed, when one of the novel's heroes, Hank Rearden, creates a superior steel product, rather than actually try to compete with Rearden, Boyle uses lobbyists to try to alter the laws to give him control of the new alloy. Now, which side of American politics is using their lobbyists to protect corporate interest? To circumvent honest competition for contracts, and playing along with the no bid? Haliburton would be one of the “Looters” in Rand's novel, out to secure their financial futures at the expense of the country.
How about inheritance? How many people running the Republican Party today are self made millionaires? Obviously, the Bush family goes back a ways. John McCain took favors from his in-laws. This book is against all of that. Indeed, the Prime Mover Francisco D'Aconia gives up the money and business he inherits from his father, runs his father's business into the ground so he can rebuild it himself. So he knows HE was capable of even being a Prime Mover. No one gave him a baseball team. Or as the book says:
"Only the man who does not need it, is fit to inherit wealth—the man who
would make his own fortune no matter where he starts his money, it serves him; if not, it destroys him.” (page 314)
How about war? Obviously, based on my chosen profession I understand the necessity of war. Philosophically and ethically there are times you just have to go put metal into bad guys. The Prime Movers in this book are against war as being wasteful. In the same speech I quote above (and this book has a LOT of speeches, not just John Galt's 68 page broadcast) D'Aconia talks about money making war irrelevant because it provides a system of fair value exchange eliminating the need to capture resources... unless you are one of the Looters. Unless you are someone incapable of producing something of value to provide fair capital. In the book, John Galt's literal solution to oil shortages is to create alternative energy sources, specifically and engine which pulls static electricity from the air. Where was that thinking from either side of the aisle, except of course for the Green Freaks like Al Gore, since our first oil crunch nearly 40 years ago? Instead, we fought wars to keep the juice flowing. Galt would be ashamed.
Atlas Shrugged and Ayn Rand have a very different take on family values as well. The female lead in the book, Dagny Taggert, wants nothing to do with being a mom, has no consideration for the next generation, she wants only to run her business and be coupled with the best possible man. She pretty much shags her way through the cast of Prime Movers. And as she leaves each one of them for the better pure capitalist specimen, each of them look fondly on the next lover and say, “yep! I can't compete with that guy, he's way better than me!” What? Is that how family is America is supposed to be? I don't think that's what Conservatives are arguing for. I don't think ignoring the idea of future generations, or for that matter the book's illustrating the idea inheritance is bad sits in line with the Pro-Life crowd. Rand herself had no children, and at least one lover (allegedly) to go along with her husband of 50 years. Not exactly the ideal home environment the Conservative movement wants to promote.
How about educating the next generation? Actually, there is a little bit in the book on the subject:
From the first catch-phrases flung at a child to the last, it is like a
series of shocks to freeze his motor, to undercut the power of his
consciousness. "Don't ask so many questions, children should be seen and not
heard!"—"Who are you to think? It's so, because I say so!"—"Don't argue,
obey!"—"Don't try to understand, believe!"-—"Don't rebel, adjust!"—"Don't
stand out, belong!"—"Don't struggle, compromise!" (page 757)
Don't stand out? Obey? Believe and don't question? Isn't this a paragraph railing against conservative thought in education? For that matter, isn't this a little bit of a rail against religion?
No, because Ayn Rand's contempt for religion and the existence of God is blatant throughout the book. In this book, and in Rand's philosophy “Objectivism,” the highest thing in existence is the human mind. That's what drives the near deification of the Prime Movers in the book. Their creations, be it Galt's engine, or Readen's steel, or Dagny's bridge, or D'Aconia's mines are from the fruits of the mind of great people- therefore the ultimate expression. When Galt gives his 68 page speech he says:
"For centuries, the battle of morality was fought between those who
claimed that your life belongs to God and those who claimed that it belongs
to your neighbors—between those who preached that the good is self-sacrifice
for the sake of ghosts in heaven and those who preached that the good is
self-sacrifice for the sake of incompetents on earth. And no one came to say
that your life belongs to you and that the good is to live it.” (page 769)
“What is the nature of the guilt that your teachers call his Original Sin?
What are the evils man acquired when he fell from a state they consider
perfection? Their myth declares that he ate the fruit of the tree of
knowledge—he acquired a mind and became a rational being.
It was the knowledge of good and evil—he became a moral being. He was
sentenced to earn his bread by his labor—he became a productive being. He was
sentenced to experience desire—he acquired the capacity of sexual enjoyment.
The evils for which they damn him are reason, morality, creativeness, joy—all
the cardinal values of his existence. It is not his vices that their myth of
man's fall is designed to explain and condemn, it is not his errors that they
hold as his guilt, but the essence of his nature as man. Whatever he was—that
robot in the Garden of Eden, who existed without mind, without values,
without labor, without love—he was not man.
"Man's fall, according to your teachers, was that he gained the virtues
required to live. These virtues, by their standard, are his Sin.” (Page 780)
Are these the ideas Michelle Malkin wants to use in a modern conservative movement? Four Thousand years of Judeo-Christianity are completely flawed, and Religion has no proper place in either the mind of man nor his government? You can't claim Objectivism as Conservative without taking the whole shebang- you can't say you want to use Atlas Shrugged as a model without looking at the model as a whole. I don't think the majority of conservatives would sit well claiming the Atheist Ayn Rand as their new guru. Rand herself sets up the point of the book in one sentence which appears as an inscription in the new paradise the Prime Movers build in their hologram concealed valley in Colorado:
The door of the structure was a straight, smooth sheet of stainless steel,
softly lustrous and bluish in the sun. Above it, cut in the granite, as the
only feature of the building's rectangular austerity, there stood an
inscription: I SWEAR BY MY LIFE AND MY LOVE OF IT THAT I WILL NEVER LIVE FOR
THE SAKE OF ANOTHER MAN, NOR ASK ANOTHER MAN TO LIVE FOR MINE.
I don't think that syncs well with “Love they Neighbor as yourself.”
So, what is my take on the book? Well, I DO parse it out. I can do that, because I am saying there are aspects I enjoy and think are fine philosophy and not trying to claim it all unread. However, as I said it is quite Utopian. I agree with Objectivism that my motivation should be to take care of myself so no one else has to- but it ignores those who CANNOT take care of themselves. Unless we want to go all Spartan and start tossing imperfect babies into windswept crags (not particularly pro-life that- it's like abortion in the 5th trimester!) we have to make allowances for those who can't. It is up to us to make sure those systems are not abused by those who “won't” as opposed to used by those who “can't” but the systems need to be in place. Maybe that's my point with this whole blog. See, we already had someone who followed Ayn Rand making financial decisions for the country- Alan Greenspan. He was an avowed Objectivist, and in on Rand's inner circle while she was writing Atlas Shrugged. He made rules and reduced regulations based on the idea these companies would be doing the right thing. However, when asked by Congress what happened, he had to admit he was partially wrong about deregulation. Why?
"Those of us who have looked to the self-interest of lending institutions to protect shareholder's equity -- myself especially -- are in a state of shocked disbelief.” So then, Rep. Henry Waxman presses him on the issue.
“In other words, you found that your view of the world, your ideology, was not right, it was not working,” Waxman said.
“Absolutely, precisely,” Greenspan replied. (New York Times)
See? Just like Marx felt the worker would always work for the good of the social commune, Greenspan thought the American Corporations and banks would act in their own best interests in such a way as to benefit the system. Instead, they tried to get rich quick, at others' expense. Not fair competition, not by EARNING your value (possible the most basic principle of Objectivism) but by abusing the system meant to allow them to work unfettered. Given the opportunity, they chose to be Rand's Looters rather than her Prime Movers. Economic utopia eludes mankind again. Rand claims greed is good, but ONLY if you have the ability to earn your wealth fairly, with your own gifts. Before anyone right or left claims this book as a guide, remember, it has been tried.
I think the most telling point is actually the end of the book (spoilers ahead!). It's the part which makes me most sure neither Malkin, the majority of Conservatives, or a whole lot of Liberals ever got that far. This perfect man, John Galt, who has never allowed anyone to live their life for his sake, has to be rescued from the Looters by the other Prime Movers. He is captured and tortured (which is also portrayed as bad, Mr. Cheney), and cannot in the end free himself. The others risk their lives and limbs to save him. In the end, the collective has to work to preserve the individual. Rand's Utopian personality doesn't make it whole to the end of the book- other people have to live their lives for his sake. As a young Libertarian I was devouring all 1200 pages of this book, loving every moment. Even at that naïve age, the ending left me with a sense of Rand deciding to negate the previous 1100 pages in the last 100. Galt can't save himself, he gets by with a little help from his friends.
Take another look from the Right before you hoist the Randian banner, and take another read Left before you dismiss her ideas that reason and rationality should drive everything. There's stuff to be gleaned, but I want to make sure everyone understands it before they hide behind their interpretation of it. Humans have done that with books before...
Before I end this ridiculously long tirade which is I think for no one but myself, I want to point out this cartoon:
Monday, March 09, 2009
Which way do YOU sway on this?
OK- I have a few more Watchmen comments since I have seen the coverage of the movie, and talked to other people who have seen it. The overwhelming response I am seeing is, “did you see Dr. Manhattan's wanker?” Well, of course I did, as did the grown women giggling throughout the film in the theater with me (minus my beloved Jennifer, who apparently is unmoved by blue genitals...I suppose I should be relieved?) on opening night. There are even people complaining the film should have had a higher rating than R, and primarily because of the animated male nudity- and keep in mind, that's what it is: animated. This is not Billy Crudup's actual willie (unless of course someone attached the motion capture sensors, what a job that would be). This is a blue CGI model of a penis, just like how Shrek is a green CGI model of an ogre and not a real one, and Jar Jar is a pink CGI model of a... whatever the hell he's supposed to be and not a real one.
Now (minor spoilers follow) this is a movie where a pregnant woman is shot in the face with a .45 automatic; the implication is made a six year old girl is butchered on a cutting board and we see two German Shepherds playing tug with her severed leg; a man is killed with a meat clever through his skull; several gangsters are graphically reduced to the consistency of chunky salsa; a man's arms are severed with a circular saw; a man severely beats a woman, then bends her over a pool table to rape her. Though I see some references to the graphic violence in the movie, I haven't really seen complaints (except the dramatic discontinuity of Dreiberg and Laurie killing a bunch of muggers, but elsewhere in the film being indignant at Rorschach and Ozymandias' methods). The penis however, warrants complaint and outrage. And girly giggles.
A Google search for “watchmen dr. manhattan penis” returns 77,600 results. And that's with “safe search” on. (And no, I didn't click on “show image results”!)
Why are we as an audience that hung up on the well-hung Doctor? Why aren't we hung up on the violence? I am not arguing that we should be- I do expect parents to be parents and keep their kids away from this movie (I am), but I am really disturbed at what our priority of outrage or preoccupation is. If nothing else, this evens the score for years of exploited woman flesh in comics and comic movies. Admittedly, there's some revealing female outfits in this film, but they are remarked upon as being fetishistic, and you don't get the full frontal the way the good Doctor repeatedly delivers.
Perhaps both the violence and the Blue Meany are too much, but I think there's a real issue with folks who DO have a problem with a penis, and DON'T have a problem with a bloodied stump.
Oh, and the Google safe search “Watchmen Dr. Manhattan wang” got 163,000 hits- one for each girly giggle I heard Friday night.
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