Guys? Little help? Trying to maintain the primacy of the individual over here.

Lately I’ve been gravitating toward sci-fi stories, no matter the medium. The way good sci-fi focuses so clearly on asking an interesting question, then exploring the implications of the answers that come back… strikes some chord deep in my brain.

Looks at website description above.
Oh. Right.

Sea of Rust doesn’t strive for literary prose or nuanced character study. But it does explore a specific potential version of a post-humanity world with a surprising depth of thought and feeling.

In this version, humanity created AI, and AI destroyed humanity. In the aftermath some AI are individuals, former servants or laborers scrounging for survival in a robotic Mad Max-style future. And they live in fear of hive-mind-style OWIs — skyscraper-sized “One World Intelligences” fighting to be the one and only being left on earth. OWIs want to subsume every other mind in existence; or use their mind-linked automaton armies to wipe out anyone who still clings to independence.

What it means to be an individual, what it means for a machine to have a soul, the long-term purpose of any “thinking thing” in the universe; these are big questions for a fun genre book full of robot gun fights. Instead of stopping at Terminator‘s Skynet, this book wonders what comes next when the artificial intelligences that outlive us start having conflicts among themselves.

What will the robots fight over once we’re all gone?

Is there anything essentially human they’d value enough to maintain in our absence?

Cool bands don’t look at explosions.

One of my favorite bands (The Decemberists) releases their 8th full-length album this week (I’ll Be Your Girl), and I received it a few days early in the mail. After a few listens (it’ll take more to be sure), it’s safe to say that as with all their previous albums, I like it more than I don’t. Even if it isn’t their best, or my personal favorite, it’s still an album I’m glad to have.

Then I realized that this may also make them my definitive, quantitatively-provable favorite band of all time — because of those 8 albums, I like all their albums more than I don’t. Despite any small variances, there are none I would rather they had skipped, none I wouldn’t gladly put on over most other albums even in my own library (at least after removing mood from the equation). And I can only think of one, maybe two other bands for which this is true — particularly for eight albums versus two or three.

Even if there are bands I’m more passionate about, or whose one or two best albums have a vastly bigger place in my heart, by the most measurable metric, The Decemberists win out.

Which band has released the most albums you genuinely like?

Does that make them your favorite band by default?

Are you okay being someone who calls that band their favorite? 

If not, what metric is better for determining your true favorite?

Disclaimer: no wishes are granted or carpets magically flown.

In Helene Wecker’s The Golem and the Jinni, the two title characters represent different approaches to life. The former is created to serve and obey, the latter is born to roam free and unencumbered. Once separated from their masters, those opposing natures fuel an unlikely friendship and drive much of the book’s character and plot development, as two “people” figure out who they are in the world.

Frequently, after one or the other makes a mistake, causes some trouble, hurts someone, or simply isn’t sure what to do with themselves, they give the excuse, “But that’s my nature, that’s just what I am, and I can’t change that.” However, the bulk of the story involves them doing exactly that. We see them learn to accept responsibility for their actions, to control their natures. In short, they learn how to change and grow beyond what they “just are.”

All of us like to think we have free will (which… maybe not?), and that we’re in control of our choices. But who hasn’t decided not to do something “because it’s just not me,” or made an excuse for their behavior because “that’s just who I am.”

What choices you make, or things you do, have you attributed to your unavoidable, essential nature?

How often do you use that as a justification for your behavior?

What does that reasoning say about you, or any of our ability to control our lives?

Also: replace wrap-it-up music with a slowly-forward-tilting stage next to a swimming pool.

Everyone has a strong opinion about what movie was the best, or which actors put on the most convincing (or biggest) shows in their respective films.

Some of us consider ourselves film-literate enough to have opinions about screenplays or editing, or to think that Roger Deakins was robbed of his cinematography award yet again (fingers crossed for Blade Runner 2049, buddy. You deserve it!)

But with fully half the awards going to things most people have never seen (sorry short docs!), or barely understand (what’s the difference between sound mixing and editing again?), there still seem to be some glaring omissions for things that never receive recognition at all.

For example, Stephen Thompson of Pop Culture Happy Hour suggests (at 6:37 to about 7:15, below), that instead of male and female acting categories, we should do adapted and original roles. So one category for playing historical figures like Churchill or Harding, one for characters created out of thin air. This idea is incredible and should be instituted immediately.

Personally, I am angered every year that comedy is so grossly underrepresented, because writing and performing great comedy is very very hard (see: most comedy). I would suggest a category purely for Best Comedy Writing in a Film, so someone like Armando Ianucci, Kristen Wiig or Judd Apatow could finally be recognized for their indelible contributions to pop culture.

What category would you like to see added to the Oscars, and why?

Even in a future of body-swapping, we still need rubber tubes to breathe underwater.

Netflix’s Altered Carbon is an A+ sci-fi premise in the body of a B+ TV drama, but make no mistake, this is a compliment.

Yes, the performances occasionally feel stilted, the dialogue sometimes drifts into corny; a writing shortcut here or an egregious nude scene there hold it back from the Blade Runner heights it aspires to. But the show builds a fascinating world at such a high level of production, it’s hard to look away. And by setting a pulpy detective story in such a complex future — where identity is fluid and mortality is negotiable — the philosophical questions it raises are so much more mind-bending than the mystery it exposes.

In Carbon‘s vision of the future, each individual’s consciousness is stored in a “stack”, a mini-disc-sized data device embedded at the base of the brain; while bodies are referred to as “sleeves”, mere containers for the individuals who inhabit them. Some characters have inhabited a number of sleeves in their lifetimes. Some use other sleeves temporarily for subterfuge. The richest upper classes have their sleeves cloned and their stacks backed up to the cloud, so they can live for hundreds of years, cycling through body after rejuvenated body, in an uninterrupted aristocracy — with predictably dystopian results.

Throw in a few other weighty ideas like the humanity of AI (consciousnesses who never even get a sleeve), the potential for virtual manipulation (consciousnesses ripped out of their sleeves against their will), or the fragmentation of the individual (copying one consciousness to multiple sleeves) and the implications of this technology alone make the show a worthwhile speculation.

This only scratches the surface, as the show continues to find thought-provoking new implications to explore, amid a murder mystery filled with gun fights, flashbacks, grimy fantasies and brutal violence. It’s existential dilemma wrapped in guilty pleasure, but don’t let appearances fool you.

If you could transplant your consciousness into a new body instead of dying, would you?

Would you want a fresh copy of your own body, in peak condition, at whatever age you prefer? What would you choose?

Or would you experiment with living in totally different bodies? Which ones? Why?