As we tumble into our future and all of the technological advancements it promises,one age-old question will increasingly capture our hearts and minds.
How do we define human? Must we simply be intelligent? Must we be evolved apes? How about a certain genetic profile, or ten fingers and ten toes. In a world of genetic engineering and cloning, of artificial intelligence and robot servants, what are the criteria by which one measures humanity? This is the question that reaches out from the heart of Mr. Dick's most famous work and grabs at us, pulling us into his dystopian world.
In 2021, as the result of World War Terminus, Earth is a graveyard. Once great cities slowly decay, neglected by the undamaged humans who have emigrated to other, more promising worlds. Consequently, Earth's metropoli, and the sad fragment of humanity left to occupy them, have been abandoned to the slow accumulation of radioactive dust which thickly layers every surface, falling like filthy snow from skies so clogged by particulates that the sun rarely manages to squeak through.
On this brutalized planet, life somehow persists. Though animals are a rarity, humanity still tenaciously clings to the rock that birthed it. But while civilization yet has a pulse, things are far from what they once were. Robot animals are the sad substitutes for the many species lost to the war, ersatz replacements for the creatures in which humanity once took so much pleasure. These simple beings, however, are nothing next to the impressive androids, or Andies, which are promised to each emigrant who decides to make a new start elsewhere in the solar system. Giving every appearance of being human, externally and internally, they are only distinguishable from their human masters by a lack of empathy which their designers cannot program for.
Andies are bred to be the perfect toys for off-world humanity. But when they find themselves dissatisfied with their slavish lives on Mars, they rebel, gradually infiltrating Earth society in an attempt to carve out better and freer lives for themselves. Unable to stomach this loss of control over their servants, humanity elects not to share its ruined world with its most human-like creations, banning them from Earth and appointing bounty hunters to capture and destroy the Andies who defy them. Rick Deckard is one such bounty hunter and this is the story of one day in his difficult and often miserable life, as he is forced to confront six, new android models who have not only come to Earth, they may be skilled enough to fully assimilate into human society, undetectable by even the most advanced android tests.
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep is that rare piece of literature which does not outperform the movie it inspired. Blade Runner successfully irons out many of the novel's challenges by simplifying the motivations of the Andies, giving them both a clear mission and an obvious grudge that must be avenged. The book, meanwhile, adopts a more oblique approach. Here, the androids are far less mature. They are uneducated slaves who have escaped their bondage to return to Earth in search of both a better life and a confrontation with the humanity that created them. Whereas, in the film, the Replicants were sympathetic figures, reminiscent of Jews under Nazi Germany, here, they are the mirror by which humanity examines itself: its sins and its failings. For Andies are said to be creatures incapable of empathy; and yet humans hunt them down with enthusiasm and vigor, never once considering the possibility of cohabitation. What is this if not an absence of empathy?
For all of the intellectual and emotional punch the Andies provide the tale, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep struggles to stay relevant in a more modern world. The religious faiths Mr. Dick sketches out for his dystopia seem far-fetched and, at times, outright silly. The self-flagellation of Mercerism is possible, but something on the order of the Guilty Remnant from Tom perrotta's The Leftovers seems a much likelier bet. What's more, for beings of cleverness, inventiveness and high intelligence, the Andies depicted here largely act like defenseless children. They make attempts at defending themselves, at hiding in the human population, but in light of what they have been forced to bear, there is little anger and much more self-pity than seems reasonable. Andies are feared, but the why remains evasive. But for injuring one of Deckard's colleagues, they are essentially docile. Clearly, Mr. Dick chose to represent them this way in order to heighten both the contrast with their human makers and to deepen our sympathy for their plight. Instead, they come off whiny and wimpy.
There is entertainment here. Deckard's search for meaning and solace in a grayed-out world is poignant and engaging. The extent to which his journey causes him to locate his own humanity is compelling. But the Andies fail to provoke an emotional response and it is this which burdens the piece. The movie is noticeably superior. (3/5 Stars)
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