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| A wild turkey |
I’ve never seen turkeys fly much beyond a few feet from ground to bush. How could they with those huge bodies? In fact, their proportions are totally out of whack — wings not nearly big enough to support their heft — evolution engineering gone to lunch when “turkeys” popped up on the to-do list.
Evolution — what an old fashioned concept! Today, Bob at a turkey farm, breeds birds for big breasts. Think of that as you sit around the Thanksgiving table. Bob has no aesthetic requirements. Nobody asks the female turkeys.
Kazuo Ishiguro is one of my favorite authors. I read “Never Let Me Go” in 2005 when it was first published. It’s about “human farms,” cloned people propagated for the purpose of organ harvesting.
Is that idea really so far out there? News stories pop up occasionally about parents, facing death of a beloved child, becoming pregnant for the purpose of creating a close donor match — a sibling who might save the life of child #1.
Already the very poor in some areas of the world “sell” their own (or somebody else’s!) organs…a kidney here, an eye there. Nearly every part of a corpse from a fatal accident is transplantable — kidneys, hearts, lungs even faces — to needy recipients. I carry a “donor card” to allow my body parts to be harvested, but I’m not sure that mine are worthy. At my age, the parts are pretty well worn out!
Most of us believe that every human is unique. But when a human becomes a mixture of parts from others, what then? Is animal and even human evolution now in the hands of scientists in a lab? Certainly I can change the look of nearly every inch of my exterior with plastic surgery. So if my thyroid (for example) doesn’t work hard enough to keep me thin, can I sign up for a new one from a younger, thinner version? And if no donor, how about a “pretend one,” mechanically built and transplanted along with my new knees, new shoulders, new hips? I’m in my mid 70s. I want to be young and pain free. So build a new me. But am I still “me?”
Enter Ishiguro again. His new novel, “Klara and the Sun” asks questions that are just as sticky. Parents in this not-so-far-in-the-future-unnamed place, decide if their children will be “uplifted,” genetically boosted to give them a leg up intellectually. The exact process is never discussed. It’s risky. Children die sometimes. It’s a worry.
What is created, of course, is a caste system. Those uplifted go to university and theoretically, enjoy the good life. Those left “natural” are destined for menial labor. Josie, the main human character in the book, is a 14 year old girl who is among the “uplifted.”
(And before we go much further, don’t we already have something like this? Haven’t we convinced nearly every kid — and their parents — in America that college is an absolute MUST for even the most modest aspirations?)
Uplifted children somehow need help socially. Artificial friends are purchased for them. Klara is an AF, something between a robot and a life-sized doll. They run on a solar powered battery and are programed with artificial intelligence.
The crux of the story: Klara identifies “God” and bargains with “God” for the life of Josie. So…life and death. Bartering with God. A human response that probably everyone of us has exercised. Is this a learned response? Where does it come from? Are humans just “built” this way?
But Klara isn’t human. What distinguishes a human? a soul? where does it reside? in the transplanted heart? brain? some nebulous aura? And what about love? Love is the answer. So Klara, a robot, loves Josie enough to ….? Uh-oh…We are in tall weeds here! In our quest for eternal life, how far will we go? And who gets to decide?
Ishiguro uses the simplest language — easy sentences, elementary vocabulary. But he smacks us around pretty good with the issues.
The turkey walked away behind the pine trees. I didn’t see it again. A little later when we came into the kitchen, a pheasant was on the patio. Fifty years ago, pheasants were everywhere but I’ve only seen one or two wild since. Pretty birds. Good proportions. Nice feathers.
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