Toying
with traditional philosophy is one of science fiction’s most pleasurable
conceits, and Robert Charles Wilson’s 2006 novelette “The Cartesian Theater” is
a perfect example. A simple premise
played out in obvious terms, it nevertheless possesses strong impact for its presentation—the
evolution of technology dragging it ever closer to our visceral reality.
“The
Cartesian Theater” is the story of Toby Paczkovski, a ‘gypsy’ living on the
dole in a world of post-industrial/economic collapse. The collapse brought on by the pluralization
of AI-enhanced robots which replaced human labor, society has been left to pick
up the pieces; everyone is consistently able to get money, yet still straggles
to live. Getting himself into trouble
when agreeing to perform a bit of gray work for his ex-wife, Paczkovski heads
for his grandfather’s grave for advice in the aftermath. A former trial lawyer kept alive with
neuroprostheses, the dead man has nothing but insight into the bizarre story of
existentialism possible only in a technologically advanced world that his
grandson lays before him.
Playing
with Descartes’ ideas, “The Cartesian Theater” posits a technical scenario
wherein the homunuculus is manifested in the real world. Wilson crafting the idea nicely, I will let
the reader discover the technicalities on their own, and suffice at saying the
duality ultimately achieved is one that couldn’t fail to stir the most
calloused human heart—even for the fleeting moment. The philosophy inherent to the technology’s
opposition may be a touch overt, but nevertheless captures a facet of human
existence that undoubtedly exists, and would exist were such a contraption ever
to be created.
Greg
Egan’s Permutation City delving into
a similar idea from a predominantly virtual perspective and David Marusek’s "The
Wedding Album" straddling the line with the real world, “The Cartesian Theater”
approaches the little man within, the soul, the internalized consciousness—however
you want to word it—in manifested, tangible terms. Each author’s story unfolding in equally
fascinating terms, I wish only that Wilson had left the last muddling/meddling
paragraph out. Death and the existence
of the human soul at stake, it’s nevertheless a story only science fiction can
produce.
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