Marry Facebook to Google and then throw in the rest of the social media world for good measure. The result is The Circle–a giant transnational technology corporation that has maximized technology so efficiently that the Internet can no longer be compared to the Wild West. Cyberbullying and trolling is non-existent, and identity theft is practically impossible. The world has become a better place, all because of one company. Emphasis here is placed on the word “one” because The Circle is also a monopoly, defying every element of the Sherman Antitrust Law. But why should that matter if the world is a fundamentally better place due to The Circle’s influence and control? This is the central question of the novel.

Author Dave Eggers invites the reader to experience The Circle firsthand through its newest employee, Mae Holland, who leaves a mundane entry-level position to enter into her new role on the Disney-like property that is The Circle’s campus. While Mae proves a fast learner in Customer Experience, her new department, she quickly learns that doing her job well is not enough. Fundamental to her success at the company (and supposedly in life) is the degree to which she participates in the Circle community, both in person and online. At the center of this expectation is the Circle philosophy that the “right to know everything” is a fundamental human right. This seems innocuous and admirable. Would we not all agree that ignorance can only lead to misfortune? But if we take this “right to all knowledge” to its full conclusion, then it stands in direct opposition to a “right to privacy”. In the world of The Circle, it is your privilege and, more importantly, your duty, to open up your life for your fellow citizen’s benefit. Secrets and introversion threatens the society at large and highlights an individual’s inherent selfishness. The only good society is an extroverted, completely transparent society where the group supersedes the individual. . . an ideology ironically proclaimed in the spirit of individualism.

He put his cup on the table next to him and rest his hands on his lap, his palms in a gentle embrace.
“So in general, would you say you behave differently when you know you’re being watched?”
“Sure. Of course.”
“And when you’ll be held accountable.”
“Yes.”
“And when there will be a historical record. That is, when or if your behavior will be permanently accessible. That a video of your behavior, for example, will exist forever.”
“Yes.”
“Good. And do you remember my talk from earlier in the summer, about the ultimate goal of SeeChange?”
“I know it would eliminate most crime, if there was full saturation.”
Bailey seemed pleased. “Right. Correct. Everyday citizens like Gary Katz and Walt Lefebvre in this instance, because they took the time to set up their cameras, they help keep us all safe. The crime was minor in this case, and there were no victims, thank god . . . Marion’s business. and the kayaking industry generally, lives to see another day. But one night of selfishness . . .could have risked it all. The individual act has reverberations that can be nearly endless. Do you agree?”Dave Eggers

This is the Silicon Valley of dystopian proportions.

The creepiest element of the book, however, is that Eggers derives most of the arguments woven into this text from impassioned statements we hear daily on the radio, at our universities, and in Washington. Bailey’s vision of ever-present video surveillance capturing any instances of crime through the agency of individual citizens reminded me of the newly implemented bodycams in police forces, along with the ubiquity of mobile phone cameras. I have vocally supported both technologies in my desire to see a reduction in racial discrimination within the US. But, Eggers highlights the illusion of individual agency in these instances. In truth, it is the tech companies that possess agency via their hardware, software, and most importantly, through their servers that shape our lives.

Eggers’ universe is not your standard dystopian future to be feared in 50-100 years. We are looking at a troubling reality of the next couple decades where today’s good ideas become tomorrow’s disasters. My piece barely touches upon some of what Eggers envisions for our lives. I encourage you to pick up a copy of the book and read for yourself his concerns.

On a related note, yesterday Google announced its new branding with an upbeat inspiring video that carries echoes of Eggers’ prose throughout.

What do you think about their branding shift? Does Google’s ever-expanding influence on society concern you, and if so, have you changed your internet habits in response? I’d love to know your thoughts.

Let me know in the comments below and don’t forget to subscribe at the bottom of the page.

Featured image courtesy of Death to Stock Photo.

Before anything, I want to briefly note that the video game Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture was released yesterday by developer The Chinese Room. I have been tracking its development for a while, so I am extremely excited to play it. If you enjoy narrative-driven exploratory adventure games, check it out. I’ll have a review on the game in next week’s post.

Now on to the film review. I finally had a chance to see Alex Garland’s Ex Machina last week.

While I am always fascinated with books and movies exploring Artificial Intelligence, I was a bit nervous about this one because of my past experience with Garland’s Sunshine. (Note: Garland wrote the screenplay but Danny Boyle directed Sunshine.) Sunshine is one half sci-fi thriller about a voyage to the Sun and one half space horror. I loved the first half, but once I hit the halfway point and genre shift, the rest of the film was a bit much for my blood pressure. The press surrounding Ex Machina utilized vocabulary like “chilling”, “creepy”, and “disturbing”. While it also affirmed the film’s brilliance, needless to say, I was a bit worried about things jumping out at me. Not my kind of film. But my husband insisted I needed to see it, so I saved it for its release to the small screen. I needn’t have been so worried. Yes, Ex Machina is creepy, but it falls solidly in the thriller genre not horror, and its creepiness is grounded in what you don’t see and know.

In fact, what you don’t know is precisely why I loved this film. Ex Machina is the story of a young computer programmer, Caleb, who wins a contest to participate in a top-secret experiment with the founder and CEO of his company. What he quickly discovers upon arriving at the experiment’s remote (and jaw-droppingly beautiful) location is that his task is to administer a Turing Test to his boss Nathan’s newly developed AI. The Turing Test, named for its developer Alan Turing (subject of the recent film The Imitation Game), is a process by which a computer is evaluated for how well it simulates human behavior and intelligence.


Nathan’s AI is remarkably compelling in this regard, ironically causing Caleb’s own behavior to seem stiff or robotic. Nathan, in comparison, is erratic and possibly delusional, resulting in a strange spectrum of human behavior ranging from the rational to irrational. Along this scale, the AI named Ava might be the most balanced character throughout the film. This rearrangement of norms leaves the audience a bit disoriented, unsure of whose perspective to trust. Caleb’s point of view is the most comfortable since the story is largely told from his angle, but even as his comprehension of the situation slowly expands, that knowledge simply raises new questions about the experiment, its creator, and what the project’s ramifications might be for humanity. This disorientation is intentional, and I think really highlights on a macro-level how the general public should and often does feel about the rapidly changing technology sector. Technology may be improving in leaps and bounds, but do we truly understand its implications for society and can we trust its creators – the commercial empires of the 21st century?

This paragraph includes a spoiler to the ending (Click to read)
The film ultimately concludes with Ava leaving the experiment facility alone, appropriating Caleb’s helicopter ride back to society. We have no idea if she survives, how she integrates with human society, or how her presence impacts the people she meets. Unlike the standard Philip K. Dick novel, the world doesn’t experience mass devastation due to AI. Instead, we don’t know the outcomes. At the end of the film, we still don’t know who to trust and we probably know only as much, if not less, than we did at the start of the film.

I found the simplicity of Garland’s narrative to be a poignant commentary on the reality of today’s Information Age. While data and “knowledge” is constantly being exchanged and directed around the globe, there is so much significant information that we individuals, like Caleb, lack and are told we do not need. We, as a society, are encouraged to float through life in a happy naïveté, distracted by consumer impulses and instant entertainment. But what happens next really matters. Asking about AI and other technology’s impact on society is critical. This critical lens does not imply instant judgement; it simply requires attention and intention to changes as they occur and before they occur. These are precisely the kinds of questions that Caleb tried to answer in Ex Machina, but sadly, he was in no position to procure the answers in time. Let us not allow ourselves to fall into the same kind of situation.


Thanks for reading this post! If you liked what you read, please subscribe below and tell your friends about High and Low.
Please also note that this post includes affiliate links. If you purchase an item through an Amazon link on my blog, I will receive a small percentage. This does not adjust the cost of your purchase, and all proceeds go towards supporting this blog. Thank you so much for your help!
The featured image is a screenshot from Ex Machina posted by BagoGames at http://bit.ly/1NIDrXQ. Publishing rights through http://bit.ly/1mhaR6e and Fair Use Act.

The Sparrow is, simply put, a book about Jesuits in space.
Sounds strange? In some senses, yes it is – in a wonderfully, refreshing way. But in other senses, Mary Doria Russell is intentionally tapping into the familiar and age-old history of New World exploration and colonization, in which the Jesuits played a significant role. The Society of Jesus (or Jesuits) is a religious order within the Roman Catholic Church that prioritizes education, innovation, and discovery. With this in mind, it’s really not surprising that Russell positioned Jesuits as the first human organization to initiate contact with a newly discovered alien civilization, their songs overheard through our satellites. The result is a powerful piece of science fiction that beautifully blends tradition with transformation.

When Frank Herbert wrote his masterpiece Dune, he focused on the world of Arrakis primarily through the lens of ecology (especially if you consider politics as merely an element of ecology). In a similar fashion, Russell took her own area of expertise, anthropology, and used it to shape her readers’ encounter with a completely new society. The Jesuit’s entire expedition is consciously aware of the devastating consequences of Europe’s initial encounters with the New World, so their project is centered on leaving a minimum impact on the societies they find, while gathering the maximum scientific data. But Russell, as an anthropologist, knows that any type of interaction between civilizations always irreversibly changes both parties. It is impossible to observe a culture while remaining detached and uninvolved. The Sparrow wrestles with this tension as the eight members of the crew seek to redeem Earth’s controversial history of exploration in a genuine desire to befriend our alien neighbors.

"Discovery of the Mississippi" by William Henry Powell - Architect of the Capitol. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Discovery_of_the_Mississippi.jpg#/media/File:Discovery_of_the_Mississippi.jpg
“Discovery of the Mississippi” by William Henry Powell – Architect of the Capitol. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Discovery_of_the_Mississippi.jpg#/media/File:Discovery_of_the_Mississippi.jpg

From the first chapter, I found myself quickly drawn into Russell’s writing. She does a beautiful job of weaving together fascinating philosophical and theological questions with compelling and relatable characters in a future that is still recognizable. The text cuts back and forth in time, jumping from the end of expedition where the team’s sole survivor is being interviewed, back to the original formation and execution of the mission. At the start, we realize something must have gone terribly wrong, but for as much as we know, there is far more that we don’t know and those gnawing questions propel the reader through the book.

Minor Spoiler (Click to read)
Another aspect of the book that I found fascinating was Russell’s construction of the alien civilization–well, in fact, civilizations because the mission discovers two distinct sentient species on the planet Rakhat. Quite often I find in science fiction that authors unconsciously create humanoid species–characters that are basically human with some strange appendages or unique physical features. Initially when we meet the inhabitants of Rakhat, through the expedition’s eyes, we try to evaluate these alien species in a similar way. But doing so proves problematic and, ultimately, we discover that Russell has constructed her species on very different premises. I will say no more, but the net result is truly a game changer for how the reader is invited to engage with this new world.

To conclude, this is one of the most compelling works of fiction that I have read this year. The characters and situations have stuck with me for days following the moment I put it down. That being said, one of the reasons the book has stuck with me so vividly is because of its extremely disturbing resolution. While Russell is intentional and restrained with her descriptions and narrative, her conclusion is necessarily uncomfortable and gut-wrenching–something you know is coming from the moment you start the book. Russell wants her readers to struggle with questions about morality, the nature of the humane, and God’s presence and goodness. If you are sensitive to disturbing imagery or going through a rough spot in life, this is not the book for you.

For everyone else, grab a copy, dive in, and then tell me your thoughts because I would love to discuss it with someone. (You can pick up a copy for just a few bucks on Amazon!)

Thanks for reading this post! If you liked what you read, please subscribe below and tell your friends about High and Low.
Please also note that this post includes affiliate links. If you purchase an item through an Amazon link on my blog, I will receive a small percentage. This does not adjust the cost of your purchase, and all proceeds go towards supporting this blog. Thank you so much for your help!
The featured image is by ESO, Claus Madsen (Alpha Centauri and the Southern Cross) found at http://bit.ly/1K9BULs and republished with a CC License [CC BY 4.0 (http://bit.ly/1htZ1pk)], via Wikimedia Commons.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...