“Any
kind of important book should immediately be read twice, partly because
one grasps the matter in its entirety the second time, and only really
understands the beginning when the end is known.” This sage advice from
nineteenth century German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer most
definitely applies to The Destructives.
Oh, yes, British
author Matthew De Abaitua has written an action-adventure yarn in
gorgeous, highly polished language that picks up speed as we turn the
pages, most notably in the book's final third, but this is a novel
that's intricately constructed and contains multiple levels of shifting,
interconnected realities (thus the book's cover featuring both the
inside of a middle class home and a starry night sky), a novel
chock-full of ideas and philosophic conundrums requiring a reader to
break a mental sweat.
But it is so worth it.
We're in the
near future and right from the first pages we follow Theodore Drown, a
lecturer at the University of the Moon specializing in the humanities,
or what is referred to here as “intangibles” with a particular focus on
pre-Seizure years (more below). Grandmother Alex raised Theodore since
the lad's mother overdosed on a futuristic drug called weirdcore and,
from his youth, a third member joined the family: Dr Easy, a robot
charged with observing, studying and recording one human life (Theodore)
from birth to death. And when Theodore himself became addicted to
weirdcore in his late teens, Dr Easy swung into action and did what was
necessary to set Theodore on the road to recovery.
Pre-Seizure
refers to our own time when the human race was squarely in control of
its own fate. However, following a global digital catastrophe wherein AI
bubbled up from online networks and came close to destroying humanity,
nearly all the AI, herein called "emergences," zoomed off to another
part of the solar system but still act as watchdogs to make sure such a
catastrophe doesn't happen again. Thus the AI have been supervising
human activity which has amounted to keeping humans in a constant, low
vibration hum devoid of risk, creativity and development.
As to
be expected, some humans find this artificial arrangement completely
unacceptable and devise a plan to regain control to permit men and
women the full range of what it means to be human.
There's a lot
happening in this novel, including some Greg Egan-like hard science that
propels Theodore into a series of astonishing adventures. I'll leave
the specific discoveries to each reader and shift to two critical
elements in the unfolding drama:
WEIRD DRUG, WEIRD SOCIETY
From
age sixteen to twenty-five Theodore had been addicted to things like
alcohol, cocaine, opium and a couple of futuristic drugs, weirdcore
among their number. Many readers of the novel will surely identify with
the humanity and vulnerability of young Theodore Drown.
What is
it about weirdcore that makes it so appealing? We're given a couple of
keys: “Weirdcore made the world seem normal.” “Weirdcore offered a
shallow inner peace.” The drug, a combination tranquilizer and
hallucinogen, creates a “shallowing” in the user. “Weirdcore reduced the
complexity of the user so that they existed on a comparable level to
the dregs of all things.”
Hmmm. Recall existential philosopher
Jean-Paul Sartre's noting human experience (being-for-itself; pour-soi)
is alienated from objects and nature (being-in-itself; en-soi). It
appears weirdcore creates a psychic shift when taken; a person
temporarily escapes alienation and merges with the world of objects and
nature – a union, of sorts, but a “shallowing” rather than a
“deepening”.
This futuristic drug is surely at the opposite end
of the spectrum from psychotropic substances found in nature and used by
tribespeople, particularly in the realm of shamanism. By using
psychotropics, the tribe's shaman will frequently take on the body of an
animal and travel to the spirit world on behalf of the community. In
this way the drug facilitates a “deepening” of experience and merging
with nature and spirit. Also, vitally important, the imbibing takes
place in the context of community.
Weirdcore doesn't sound that
far removed from drug use in our own day: taken in isolation with no
desire (understatement) of benefiting the community. Curiously, the
importance of human kindness and community are among the novel's prime
themes. Perhaps in this way, Matthew De Abaitua has given us a
cautionary tale.
DR EASY
At the heart of The Destructives we have humans dealing with AI known as emergences. There's ample reason for readers to feel a bit queasy and uneasy.
For example, here is Dr Easy, himself an emergence, explaining the facts of life to a class of humans: "You are it,
for humanity. You're as far as your species goes. Whereas my people are
going much further. But don't worry: we will send you a postcard."
Goodness - this has an eerie echo of HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
And
Dr Easy expatiates: "I understand conceptually why biological organisms
are afraid of death. But I don't share that fear. Death is abstract to
me." Wow! Death holds no meaning, no weight for Dr Easy, so different
from our all too human awareness of our own inevitable death.
Here's
a snip I find especially piquant: “The robot was sorting and unsorting
various coloured disks, some as large as checkers, others the size of
sequins, which it arranged in patterns on the tablecloth, an activity it
chose to undertake – in lieu of eating – whenever it joined humans at
their dinner.”
Dr Easy shares much with Agilulf, the Nonexistent
Knight from Italo Calvino's novella - when he's not preoccupied by his
knightly duties, he (Agilulf) applies himself “to some precise exercise:
counting objects, arranging them in geometric patterns, resolving
problems of arithmetic.”
Agilulf is faced with an ongoing
dilemma: unless he keeps himself continually pitted against the
challenges posed by the surrounding world, he might dissolve into
nothingness. Dr Easy, similar to Agilulf, must constantly be analyzing;
his entire existence is bound by the conceptual, calculating, analytic
mind. In other words, no Zen meditation, no transcending thinking, no satori, no samadhi for Dr Easy. Thus, in this respect, Dr Easy
lacks another vitally important component of what it means to be human.
I've only touched on several of the many knotty questions The Destructives raises. I urge you to grab a copy and get ready to fire up your brain cells.
Note: The Destructives is the third novel in Matthew De Abaitua's trilogy. The Red Men is number one and IF THEN is number two. However, each novel can be read as a stand-alone.
British author Matthew De Abaitua, born 1971
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