BBC: Death... Not Quite Permanent?

I've been pondering life and death again (you know, as you do). We humans tend to think of the two as definite, opposing states of being. The vast majority of the time, we have no problem identifying someone as "alive" or "dead." But, as science fiction has predicted, we've arrived at an age when these concepts are no longer quite binary -- when it's possible to restore to life someone who's been, albeit briefly, declared dead. See this article from last year:

http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20140704-i-bring-the-dead-back-to-life

Cryonics and cryogenics has been a well-trodden trope in popular fiction for decades, from the works of Robert Heinlein and Arthur C. Clarke (of the "Golden Age of Science Fiction") to Captain America's decades of being frozen in a block of ice. Science is nowhere near such capabilities, of course, and it's important for the general public to understand what is and is not possible, to be able to distinguish between fact and fiction (and fiction that might well become fact in the future). Most of the scientists cited in the above BBC article, for example, are careful to qualify their work. But the mere possibility -- the mere notion that we might be capable of blurring the boundary between life and death -- calls into question some of humanity's most deep-seated beliefs.

One of the most memorable moments in genomics research (which could be considered the other end of the debate) came from Dr. Craig Venter, the geneticist and entrepreneur best known for his work in mapping the human genome and in artificially synthesizing life. When he was asked how he felt about "playing God," Venter famously replied, "I don't play."

Clever quip aside, the creation of life and the reversal of death are traditionally the provinces of myth. Much of human fascination with divinity and the supernatural stems from our desire to understand -- and in some small way, influence -- these opaque, immutable bookends to our time on earth. We, like all other living creatures, are by nature afraid of death, and seek to stave it off as long as we can. If given the option to return from the other side, I'd venture that most people would do so without hesitation. And who wouldn't want to bring back a newly-deceased loved one, if they could?

What, then, might it mean to live, if we could choose not to die? Issues of reproduction and overpopulation aside (though those, too, would become important challenges), would near-immortality change the nature of humanity? How and why would one decide to die? Tolkien's elves, incidentally, would be a close approximation of that dilemma.

I'm reminded of something a wise man once said, about that final journey:

"After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

~Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Future Library (Margaret Atwood, Denizen #1)

A library is growing in Norway.

The Future Library is a time-capsule project, of sorts. A thousand trees were planted in a Norwegian forest this summer, to be harvested in a century's time. Every year until the day of the reaping, a different author will be invited to contribute a story to this library. The catch? The story will remain unread until these trees are made into the paper on which these works will be printed. The writers who contribute towards the beginning of the century won't likely live to see their books published. And that's sort of the point. In a hundred years, none of the originators of the project will be around to see its completion.

It'll be interesting to see what authors end up participating. It takes a certain sort of writer to produce a work that will likely be published posthumously, and to be happy with having completed it, without any notion of where it might stand in public opinion or among literary critics. It's fitting that the first contributor to the Future Library is Margaret Atwood; a science fiction writer is likely to agree with the notion of art as time capsule for future generations.

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/sep/05/margaret-atwood-new-work-unseen-century-future-library

Her story about the "lost" Haida manuscript in the above Guardian article is particularly apt. Who knows how language might change in a century? We certainly think differently than our ancestors did in the early 1900s. We find references to iceboxes and horse-drawn carriages archaic, for example, and there are many words that have disappeared from common usage in the past hundred years. It begs the question of whether authors who are consciously writing for the future, without the preconditions of a contemporary readership, would choose to write differently. To what extent, after all, does art demand and audience?

I am reminded (as I often am) of the Percy Shelley poem "Ozymandias," as well as of Faulkner's Nobel acceptance speech. The Future Library seems simultaneously an endeavour without ego and perhaps the greatest projection of self-preservation instinct an author can have.

I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

The Economist: The Dream of Interstellar Starships, or, the Hows and Whys of Technology

I'm in California, hanging out with a lot of techie folks whom I met at university. We've talked about things like Amazon drones and Elon Musk's proposed hyperloop... and naturally I was reminded of this article, which I saw in The Economist a month or two ago:

http://www.economist.com/news/science-and-technology/21588349-if-starships-are-ever-built-it-will-be-far-future-does-not-deter

Scientists have been contemplating interstellar travel for as long as science fiction authors have been writing about it (indeed, these two groups have a significant overlap). The above article catalogues some of the problems facing any space-adventuring hopefuls, most notably that of propulsion. It also asks the important question of why.

I was just discussing with a college friend the differences between the humanities and the sciences. It's engineers like them -- like the people I know who work at tech companies up and down the Bay -- who give us the means to achieve what could scarcely be imagined a few generations ago. The sciences answer the question of how. But for what purpose? To what end? Those are the questions the humanities hope to answer -- but we have too few people asking, and too few caring to ask.

There's always hype about the next great "disruptor" in the marketplace, the technology that no one ever imagines he needs, but which he soon finds indispensable (see Henry Ford and Steve Jobs, for example). But I can't help wondering: what kind of society do these visionaries hope to create with their revolutionary ideas? (There's Google's "Don't be evil," but that's hardly descriptive. It's not proscriptions, but rather prescriptions that build a new future.) Beyond the often nebulous concept of improving quality of life, how do inventors imagine their products shaping our society? (Interstellar travel, a la Star Trek, would irrevocably change the way we live and our understanding of our place in the universe.) As the article points out, "Because we can" is not a sufficient reason--it doesn't tell us why.

Some food for thought. I'll likely revisit this topic after my trip.

io9: Why Eugenics is a Bad Idea (aside from all the obvious moral reasons)

I recently read Paolo Bacigalupi's short story collection Pump Six and Other Stories, which is deliciously creepy and dystopian. That anthology, and this io9 article (which I read at around the same time), got me thinking about human genetic engineering on a macroscopic scale:
http://io9.com/5925024/why-eugenics-will-always-fail

Our notions of eugenics can be roughly sorted into two categories: ways to optimize our species (for some agreed-upon and likely artificial optimal characteristics), and ways to eliminate genetic weaknesses (an extremely aggressive, sentient form of Darwinism). The former option represents selecting for a hypothetical upper bound, and the latter would be selecting against a lower bound.

When we talk about eugenics, most of us imagine the first option. The cultural connotation of the term "eugenics" includes the Holocaust, the book Brave New World, and the film "Gattaca" -- all of which involve human rights violations. In selecting for a certain ideal, a society makes mincemeat of the rights of those who fall below the arbitrary cut-off. Because eugenics usually comes with gross restrictions of free will -- and in many cases, murder -- we tend to see it as a purely moral evil. This usually brings about international intervention (the timeliness and effectiveness of said interventions being a different matter entirely), or at least the common recognition that such atrocities ought to be prevented.

The above io9 article lays out a few intuitive arguments against eugenics from a practical perspective, contending that -- morality aside -- it simply wouldn't be effective. They boil down to: imprecision, biodiversity, and the limitations of human foresight. (In essence, the short-term microscopic, the middle-term macroscopic, and the long-term in both. The article explains in further detail.) We don't know enough (and likely will never know enough) to get away with attempting to fashion our species in the image of some ideal -- not to mention that it would be impossible to get all seven billion of us to agree on said ideal in the first place. These are all, however, problems that arise when selecting for an upper bound, a hypothetical ideal specimen of humanity.

A (very) soft version of a scenario where we select against a lower bound is already in place, given amniocentesis and women's right to abort. Many women choose to abort after they receive an abnormal genetic diagnosis -- when the fetus has a genetic or congenital defect that would severely diminish the hypothetical child's lifespan or quality of life. The logic is that never existing -- which, for the record, is distinct from ceasing to exist after a period of existence -- is preferable to a life of pain and suffering with little ability to self-actualize. Self-actualization is incredibly important -- it's what makes us human and distinguishes us from other animals. This form of selection, which can be considered a mild and diffuse form of eugenics, increases the average human being's ability to self-actualize, thereby increasing (in a thought experiment where sentience is quantifiable on a scale) our species's average sentience through conscious choice by prospective parents -- a rough extension of natural sexual selection, in the way that most technologies exacerbate existing dilemmas and play upon existing quirks of human nature, rather than creating new ones where they didn't exist before. (To be clear, I recognize that I just exploded a can of worms -- that humans aren't generally more or less sentient than other humans, and that legally, ethically, metaphysically, &c. we all ought to be considered equally sentient, except in cases of limited ability to consent (i.e. children, mentally disabled persons), in which case laws are made to protect said people.)

The danger, then, is where the upper and lower bound options meet in the middle. (I'm resisting the obvious temptation to make some horrible joke about quantum mechanics and relativity here.) It's significant, therefore, that the former option is mandated by an external force and doesn't allow parents to meaningfully consent; the latter option is voluntarily initiated by the potential parents. The lower bound scenario never turns into the problematic upper bound scenario precisely because of this element of free will. The moment it moves from a bottom-up to a top-down approach -- when it veers too close to selection for an ideal, thereby impinging upon the rights of the sentient but non-ideal population -- it becomes the morally degenerate form of eugenics of genocide and dystopian science fiction. There lies the bright-line we should be aware of.

And that's all for now. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Cover-a-Week #23: "The Ballad of Serenity" from Firefly

More geek-tastic covers!


http://youtu.be/hmlDnPYzsq0

Firefly is one of the best television shows out there, and it's a shame that only fourteen were produced before it was cancelled. I've not seen all of them -- this will be remedied in due time!

BBC: A One-Way Trip to Mars

I've been reading Asimov lately, and consequently thinking about space colonization. One of the most often-cited barriers to human colonization of extraterrestrial worlds is the presumed lack of volunteers willing to make a one-way journey to another planet; it seems too conclusive, a course of action only the deeply desperate or truly dissatisfied would be willing to undertake. (Fortunately for human rights, but unfortunately for space colonization, penal colonies -- the interplanetary version of 19th century Australia -- don't seem to be a viable option.)

It seems, however, that not everyone shares said pessimism about human civilization beyond Earth:
http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20120206-space-tourists-one-way-mars-trip

There are a number of examples of migration and settlement in human history that may be considered analogues of space colonization. The Thirteen Colonies, for example, were populated by settlers who never expected to return to their lands of origin, and who were largely unable to communicate with family and friends from their precolonial lives (a product of distance, the unreliability of mail delivery, and illiteracy). And yet, there was no shortage of people willing to make the trip -- there were convicts and bondsmen, to be sure, but also religious minorities, merchants, speculators, explorers, and all manner of people who believed that they could build a better life in the uncharted wilderness than in the known, civilized world. I don't believe that this strain of optimism and curiosity will have disappeared between then and whenever we are capable of sending colonists beyond our orbit.

Would I go? I must admit: probably not. I have too many Earthly attachments -- people, places, moments, experiences (especially people). I would have been reluctant, I think, even in the later eras of immigration by ship; see the song "Kilkelly." It's no coincidence that so many of the early colonists in North America were particularly fervent Protestants who believed that one's mortal existence was ultimately inconsequential (predestination, and the complete rejection of Catholic belief in deed as well as faith), or people with few ties to their original communities, for varying definitions of community. But in an age of faster interplanetary travel, I'd sure love to visit!

Also, I think the idea of sending a few intrepid journalists to document the development of the Martian colony is brilliant. It's not often that we get to study the development of a nascent civilization, and it would prove instructive to have such a chronicle on hand once the colonization of space really begins.

The article mentions a hypothetical poll; I would be very interested to see the results of that particular study. I'm especially curious as to the demographics of an all-volunteer Martian colony, and whether they would reflect a population roughly comparable to the New World colonists.

What Would You Do with a Time Machine?

I've been asked the above question quite a few times (I think it happens to history majors fairly frequently), and my answer tends to vary depending on the classes I happen(ed) to be taking, the books in my bag, the day of the week, &c. By now, I do have a list of responses that I cycle through and explain in depth at parties (which, for me, are of the variety that includes social dancing, board games, home cooking, or karaoke).

This is an answer I've given before, because I think it's one of the great tragedies of the classical world:

I imagine the "Dark Ages" would have turned out quite differently had the libraries of Egypt, Rome, and all the other great ancient cities not burned. So much knowledge -- especially in the sciences -- was lost, setting human progress in the West back several centuries. If I had a time machine... I would definitely go back to save the second volume of Aristotle's Poetics, and Aristarchus's text on astronomy, and Ovid's Medea, and Euripides's lost plays...

In short, I would be both the best and worst Doctor's Companion ever.

io9: Race Relations in the Space Age

An adorable, moving video about breaking all sorts of glass ceilings in pursuit of one's dreams (also, Star Trek pioneering integration FTW):

http://io9.com/5981089/a-sweet-animated-tale-of-challenger-astronaut-ronald-mcnairs-early-experience-standing-up-to-racism

Ronald McNair. I didn't know who he was until I saw this, but I'm glad I found it. I'll admit to tearing up a little at the end. (Challenger, why?) He's one of the many unsung heroes of science -- much as the Catholic Church has a body of saints, I propose that science establish its own roster of martyrs for the cause. McNair would be up there with Galileo and Marie Curie.

Discover: How Would Time Travel Actually Work (or, something for all the Whovians)?

A good, cogent article on the physics of time travel:
http://discovermagazine.com/2010/mar/02-the-real-rules-for-time-travelers/

I first encountered this explanation of time travel in Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban, where Harry and Hermione use a Time-Turner to save Sirus and Buckbeak. (I trust that I didn't spoil the book for anyone -- and if I did, you're way behind the times!) The detail of the Time Turner chapter that I found most memorable was the thud of the executioner's axe: Harry and Hermione heard it fall in real time and assumed that Buckbeak had been beheaded; however, when they went back in time to rescue the hippogryff, they realized that the sound they'd thought was Buckbeak's decapitation was actually the executioner swinging the axe into a hunk of wood in frustration upon discovering that Buckbeak had escaped. Harry and Hermione, therefore, did not change the timeline using the Time Turner; rather, events incorporated all nonlinear parts and intersections of the timeline.

The concept of free will, as the above article notes, becomes problematic if this framework of time is true. Nature, it would seem, is more like a Greek tragedy than we Americans would like to believe. We are uncomfortable with the idea of external limits on our free will, and time is too nebulous to most of us to think its laws as insurmountable as, say, those of Newtonian physics. If we were told that our free will is limited by gravity (no matter how much we might wish to levitate through the air, we cannot), we do not find it unjust. Told that Oedipus had no choice but to kill his father and marry his mother, despite all of his attempts to escape his fate, we find his situation grossly unfair. The above description of time travel suggests that our universe operates more like Oedipus's than we'd imagined.

I believe in free will. I do. But I'd love to try time travelling -- it sounds fascinating.

R.I.P. Ray Bradbury

He died this week (on the 5th). The New York Times obituary:
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/07/books/ray-bradbury-popularizer-of-science-fiction-dies-at-91.html?_r=1&ref=arts&gwh=DAB304701677810DA93A673A1510F1D2

I first learned of it from Neil Gaiman's blog, actually. He was tapped to write a tribute piece in The Guardian, and he paints a beautiful portrait of this science fiction maestro:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/jun/06/ray-bradbury-neil-gaiman-appreciation

We all knew that Bradbury was a pioneer of the genre. We all admired his skill, his imagination, his understanding of human nature. This reveals a side of him that, sadly, many of us never encountered -- the genuine, kind human being. People like that are precious.

Here's another:
http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20120608-meeting-the-master-ray-bradbury

I love his devotion to the book as an object (something I'm more than a little afraid that e-readers will kill off), especially seeing as he was a science fiction writer. (I have an e-reader, but I feel the same way about books, which increasingly makes me appear a troglodyte among my peers.) I love his enthusiasm. And of course, as Gaiman so eloquently depicted it, his kindness.

Rest in peace, Mr. Bradbury.

io9: Blowfish-Man Film

This is somewhat disturbing, and so quintessentially Japanese:
http://io9.com/5914061/watch-a-man-turn-into-a-blowfish-in-one-horrifying-short?tag=trailer-frenzy

I'll admit, I watched that trailer about five times, with what I'm sure was an expression of horrified fascination on my face. The CGI is really something; it's in that zone between extremely realistic and "you know it's impossible even though your eyes tell you otherwise." It evokes the sort of feeling that Neil Gaiman's or China Miéville's writing does; the milieu is rather Lovecraftian.

High-Tech Cat Rescues

Just something funny I found on HistoricLol:

I wonder what the dog thinks?

Map of Top 100 SciFi & Fantasy Books

Something that Brett sent me a few weeks ago that every scifi/fantasy nerd should appreciate: 

(You'll have to click on it to see everything.)

I'm glad that there's such diversity in this map, including quite a few books that wouldn't conventionally be found in the scifi/fantasy section of the bookstore. It's also wonderful that it doesn't portray The Lord of the Rings as the founding bedrock of the genre (not to understate Tolkien's genius); there were plenty of classic novels that should be recognized as scifi/fantasy (like Frankenstein and Cat's Cradle, by Mary Shelley and Kurt Vonnegut, respectively).

Plot Device (No, Really)!

Funny, relevant, and very well-made:

Microsoft Printing Dress: Wear What You Tweet

This is a really amazing bit of textile wizardry:
http://news.cnet.com/8301-17938_105-20089642-1/microsoft-printing-dress-wear-what-you-tweet/

It certainly looks much too impractical for everyday use (not to mention, I can't imagine that a lot of people would want to wear that on a day-to-day basis), but the concept is quite fascinating nonetheless. I can see it having niche appeal, mostly among technorati, and perhaps some specialized applications. Imagine being paid to wear scrolling advertisements, much like people nowadays are paid to advertise products on their websites, or their cars (like those VW beetle skins that show up now and again), or their storefronts. Maybe it'll be a futuristic version of the branding that is now ubiquitous on clothing and personal accessories. It reminds me a bit of Gibson's Pattern Recognition, actually, only in a less depressing way.

Wall Street Journal: How to Undress a Victorian Lady in Your Next Historical Romance

I was directed to this article by a number of people, but I think Nicole sent it first (no, it's not adult content -- it's The Wall Street Journal, after all):

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702304911104576443871615544338.html

I really appreciate the effort some authors expend to get the details right. Historical fiction has a lot in common with science fiction, where the technology ought to be theoretically plausible, and fantasy, where the imagined world ought to be internally consistent and realistic within its constraints -- which is why we have people like Asimov writing science fiction, people like Tolkien writing fantasy, and a bevy of actual historians writing historical fiction. It's hard to do these genres well if you don't have the background.

I have made my own period costumes, and sporadically partake in historical reenactment (and yes, I do own a corset). I do my research; Stanford's libraries are excellent for this purpose. And as I sometimes mention on this blog, I'm a history major -- but I'm still, compared to film industry costumers, an amateur. Inaccuracies in books, films, etc. bother me quite a bit, because I always find myself thinking, if I, as a hobbyist with limited resources, can get it right (or at least moreso than this film), why can't a professional crew? (Some of my friends apparently enjoy watching bad quasi-medieval action flicks with me just to watch me go off about all the things the studio got wrong. Not sure what that says about me -- or them, for that matter.)

Anyhow. A pet peeve of mine.

Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock

The classic game, new and updated for the 23rd century:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock

I am amused.

I found this not long ago on a Wikipedia crawl (you know, where you just keep clicking on interesting links until you look up half an hour later and find that you've ended up on a page completely unrelated to the one you started with). I think I was looking at cathedrals at one point.

Edit: I am told that I am completely behind the times, and that this game is old news in the nerd (and especially the Trek) community. I can't say I'm surprised.

Happy Towel Day!

For those of you unfamiliar with the holiday, Towel Day celebrates the life and works of the author and humorist Douglas Adams, who is best known for the "trilogy" The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. He was a great writer and a great humanitarian. As Richard Dawkins said upon Adams's death a decade ago, "Science has lost a friend, literature has lost a luminary, the mountain gorilla and the black rhino have lost a gallant defender."

I have my towel. Do you?

MSNBC: Endeavour Crew Recreates Star Trek Movie Poster

The space shuttle Endeavour embarked on its last mission four days ago (after its decommissioning, the only remaining operational shuttle of the original NASA fleet will be the Atlantis). Traditionally, every mission has a themed poster. This mission, STS-134, modeled its poster on the recent Star Trek film poster, which I think is quite fitting, and quite clever. (The inner geek (or maybe not-so-inner geek) in me just had a field day.)

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/43038704/ns/technology_and_science-space/t/endeavour-crew-recreates-star-trek-movie-poster/

What would have been even better would be if it were the shuttle Enterprise, but that was mostly a test shuttle and was decommissioned early in the shuttle program. Still, a girl can dream.

Tron Slug

Alex (Q) was talking about this in the dining hall the other day, and I knew I had to see it for myself:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chelidonura_varians

Does that explain the post title? (It's a reference to this film.)

(Any relation to the previous post is completely unintentional, I promise. But it is cute.)