“The electric things have their lives, too. Paltry as those lives are.” (191)
As a science-fiction novel, Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? tackles the battle of what constitutes life through the allegories and social-indicators of androids, the humans and “specials” remaining on Earth, and the weight of an electric animal versus a real animal. Though these ideas all begin as separate threads, the novel weaves them towards a larger, overarching question: what constitutes existence and aliveness for any species?
The novel provides conflicting answers to this question. Take, for instance, the electric sheep; from the outside, the sheep passes as real – it is a “premium job” as Rick says, one which “you… to keep your eye on it exactly as you did when it was really alive.” However, both Rick and Bill agree that caring for an electric animal is “not the same” (9), which then raises the question of how we can assume existence within Dick’s world: is it based on biology, the literal functions which we’d define as alive, or is it based on appearances? Much like the age-old question of the tree in the forest, if one does not know that something isn’t biologically alive, does that not mean that the nonliving being is alive by default in the viewer’s eyes? Our understanding of the androids and human empathy complicates this issue. As we learn later, there are at least two ways to identify an android – the empathy-based Voigt-Kampff and the Boneli Reflex-Arc Test. The former was significantly more effective on earlier, basic models, but the Nexus-6 models in question cause doubt and nearly stump Rick multiple times. As Rachael later describes, much of her job constitutes in identifying with other bounty hunters “what gets caught” so that Rand can “modify again and eventually… [an android] has a type that can’t be distinguished” (150). This is fascinating in regards to how androids will be received in the future of Dick’s universe; in Nexus-7 and other, later models, it is possible that the android will be undetectable against the Voigt-Kampff scale, and though Rick suggests earlier that a new test could be made if the old one fails, such a result is no guarantee is the androids become virtually and essentially as human passing as the electric animals.
The tension of defining aliveness in this novel consistently circles between biological and appearance-based judgement. As Rick and Rachael discuss post-coital, the lifespan of an android is only that of perhaps four years (154), a problem which apparently occurs due to androids’ inability to perform “cell replacement, perpetual or… semi-perpetual renewal” (155). Rick further explains his own definition of aliveness for androids, one that becomes particularly significant after he discovers his own empathy towards androids – or, at least, towards Rachael. After Rachael states that she is “not alive,” Rick says: “Legally you’re not. But really you are. Biologically. You’re not made out of transistorized circuits like a false animal; you’re an organic entity,” a point that further receives an internal aside which points out that, like humans, Rachael and other androids will “wear out and die” even if their life span is much shorter (155). This moment is critical and in conversation with Rick’s reaction towards the electric toad (as cited above); as Rick begins to consider that androids, too, are beings worthy of empathy and concern the same way the true humans and animals are. In this sense, it seems that Dick is suggesting that to say aliveness constitutes only towards biology is a false presumption; even though the androids are made of biological material that will wear out, the definition of biology seems almost a separate idea from the one which we associate in our own world. Rick’s version of “biologically” seems based more on appearance and function; the body will wear down like a human’s and it appears, for all intensive purposes, “biologically” and passing as human even though the internal function is unable to uphold the same image. As the models of androids increase, it is likely they will be virtually undetectable as nonhuman beings; take Luba Luft, who we know to be an opera singer performing in the public eye, and Buster Friendly, who the androids in Isidore’s home reveal to be an android passing as human. Clearly, androids are already passing on surface-level as human – what, then, makes them less alive, undeserving of empathy, worthy of killing?
I also think it’s fascinating that John Isidore – though admittedly not the brightest person – is unable to tell a real cat from a false cat, treating it as if it were an animal in need of a charge. Perhaps this, too, complicates our definitions of what we may call alive and further implies that appearance and function matter more than true biological definitions of living species. I would also like to point to the idea that the phenomena of dialing certain moods and settings seems unnatural and going against biology; disorders like depression cannot be dialed up and put into action, but instead exist as chemical imbalances. Why is this considered natural when androids and the electric animals become symbols of falsehood and half-lives? These questions are difficult to answer – I suspect Dick intended to make the distinctions difficult not only as a tool of conflict but as a significant speculative question that the genre demands – but, nonetheless, the tension remains, creating a conversation that truly surpasses both its speculative world’s future and our present.
(All quote taken from ISBN Edition 9781780220383)
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