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atamascolily · 4 years

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more CotJ meta, because apparently I cannot be stopped

I don't understand how essence transfer works in Children of the Jedi. It seems... wildly inconsistent depending on what is narratively convenient at the time.

I don’t know why Callista is able to make the jump from her original body to the Eye of Palpatine’s gunnery computers and then from the computers to Cray’s body without (much) issue, while poor Nichos couldn’t. Maybe it's because Callista had received secret Jedi training from her master that Nichos didn’t have access to? Or because it would interfere with Hambly’s plot to give Callista Cray’s body?

(I think we all know the answer to this, but I’m gonna go through all the arguments anyway.)

Luke does float the idea of Cray creating a droid-body for Callista to inhabit, which Cray and Callista both reject, but for wildly different reasons.

“You said Djinn Altis showed you—taught you—to transfer your self, your consciousness, your … your reality—to another object. You’ve done it with this ship, Callista. You’re really here, I know you are …”

“I am,” she said softly. “There’s enough circuitry, enough size, enough power in the central core. But a thing of metal, a thing programmed and digitalized, isn’t human, and can’t be human, Luke. Not the way I’m human now.”

So Callista’s argument is basically that a giant ship is big enough to contain her spirit, but a droid wouldn't be? How did Exar Kun manage this, then? I mean, granted, he was evil, and had low standards for ethics, but still... I don’t get it.

I get her main point here: she believes she's more "human" as a ghost than she would be as a droid, or with her spirit somehow “translated” as a series of zeros and ones, as Cray was somehow able to do with Nichos. And I can see why she wouldn’t want that kind of existence for herself. But I still don’t get how consciousness works in this novel, and why Callista can’t transfer herself--her real self--into a different object, the way she did before, instead of being “translated” by Cray into a digital copy.

This also begs the question of how much Callista's HUMAN spirit is influenced by thirty years in the computer core, which the novel doesn't address, but fics like Deaka's "Blue Screen" on FFN are fortunately there to fill the gap.

Here’s Cray’s take on Luke’s request to “fix” Callista:

“To turn her into what Nichos is? To cannibalize parts from the computers, wire together enough memory to digitalize her, so you can have the metal illusion around to remind you what isn’t yours—and can’t be yours? I can do that … if that’s what you want.”

...“Not the way you and I are human.” Cray came over to them, her blond hair catching fire glints in the greasy light. “Not the way Nichos was human. I should never have done it, Luke,” she went on. “Never have … tried to go up against what had to be. My motto was always ‘If it doesn’t work, get a bigger hammer.’ Or a smaller chip. Nichos …”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t remember dying, Luke. He doesn’t remember a switchover of any kind. And as much as I love … Nichos … as much as he loves me … I keep coming back to that. It isn’t Nichos. He isn’t human. He tries to be, and he wants to be, but flesh and bone have a logic of their own, Luke, and machinery just doesn’t think the same way.”

Her mouth twisted, her dark eyes chill and bitter as the vacuum of space. “If you want me to, I’ll make you something that’ll hold a digitalized version of her memories, her consciousness … But it won’t be the consciousness that’s alive on this vessel. And you’ll know it, and I’ll know it. And that digitalized version will know it, too.”

So Cray rejects it because she doesn’t want Luke to make the same mistake she did: of seeing a replica as the original. And she makes a point of calling herself out on her attachment to Nichos, so much so that she warped and twisted her life to try and hold onto to him when she couldn’t. And she’s telling Luke not to do the same thing with his own life--which he will of course ignore.

I'm used to thinking of identical digital files as interchangeable, but that's not the case here when you're downloading human consciousness. There's also this idea that the droid/digital versions isn't "real," which is also worth chewing on, but a whole 'nother philosophical debate in and of itself.

But Cray's other point is also worth considering: the body we inhabit has qualities of its own that are impossible to deny; they shape our experiences of the world. This is why I'm absolutely floored that nobody ever follows up on Callista's experiences in Cray's body--how she's able to just smoothly take over, and the only issue ("software bug"?) is that she can't access the Force. This is... probably not how it works. I wrote a fic about this, but it only scratched the surface of the story possibilities for dysphoria and "body-as-a-character".

(I solve this problem of essence transfer in other fics by arguing that it only works smoothly--i.e., with minimal dysphoria and a complete transfer of Force powers--if your spirit jumps to a physical clone of your original body. This explains why clone!Palpatine can access the Force, while Callista can't, because Cray's body 'recognizes' Callista's spirit as foreign to itself and is continually fighting her, so much so that all her Force abilities are tied up in holding her in that body--which is also Force-sensitive.)

Also, re: robot bodies and human consciousness, I’m reminded of a passage in Yeats’ “Sailing to Byzantium” here:

Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake...

"Sailing to Byzantium" is all about what it means to be old in a failing body, right from the opening line--"That is no country for old men". And while it's poetry and there are a lot of ways to interpret, one valid take is that it's about shedding your bodily form to become a robot/artificial construct so you can live forever, and I have a lot of Feels about that in relationship to Star Wars. (Paging Anakin Skywalker!) But I digress.

Going back to CotJ. an additional problem is that any physical components will be carrying the malvirus of the Will:

“Thank you, Cray. And don’t think I’m not tempted. I love you, Luke, and I want … I want not to have to leave you, even if it means … being what I am now, forever. Or being what Nichos is now, forever. But we don’t have the choice. We don’t have time. And any components, any computers, you take from this ship, Cray, will have the Will in them as well.

I don’t know why she can’t jump to an object unconnected with the Will--like, say, her lightsaber. Isn’t Exar Kun using a big statue of himself as an anchor? I mean, it’s kinda of impractical compared to being inside a computer, but maybe it could be a temporary thing until Luke is able to build her a ship of her own??

(A lightsaber would be a really good choice as an anchor because of the kyber crystal inside, which Callista may or may not have a working relationship with if you hold them to be sentient or partially sentient beings...? There's fic potential there, that's all I'm saying.)

(As a further aside, in my Star Wars/Portal crossover “Testing Limits,” I postulate that the Will is a GLaDOs-like uploading of a human consciousness into digital form. I still believe that holds true for canon, even though there’s not much supporting evidence other than that the Will is set up as foil to Callista and it adds to the incredibly Gothic atmosphere. Either the Will is human consciousness, or it’s modeled after human consciousness for maximum Uncanny Valley effect because Luke is always describing it as having a presence and malevolent intentions, and Callista is always fighting it.)

So Barbara Hambly spends a lot of time establishing that Cray's body is the only viable (hah!) option for Callista, which will be important later on. But let's get back to Nichos for a minute, and his failure with essence transfer.

It's weird because at the beginning of CotJ, Cray talks about Nichos transferring his SPIRIT to the droid body using the Force and Ssi-ruuk entechment--which sounds eerily identical to what Callista did thirty years earlier--but they know something's wrong right away when Nichos can't use the Force. Cray's all "I can fix that, it's a technical difficulty!" but Luke knows better. Everyone knows, except for Cray.

I think THAT is the moment where Luke and Cray should have had a Talk, when it was absolutely clear to everyone that whatever Cray was doing hadn't worked--that she'd succeeded in making a digital copy, and the original Nichos was actually dead.

Instead, Cray buries all her considerable energy into "fixing" Nichos mechanically. She believes with enough research, she can shape the droid Nichos into a human being... which doesn't solve the fundamental problem and misses the point entirely.

He heard her voice, its usual brisk sharpness honed to the brittleness he’d heard in it more and more in the past six months...

“It’s really just a matter of finding a way to quadruple the sensitivity of the chips to achieve a pattern, instead of a linear, generator. ... Hayvlin Vesell of the Technomic Research Foundation spoke in an article of going back to the old xylen-based chips, because of the finer divisibility of information possible. When I return to the Institute—”

“That’s what I’m trying to impress on you, Dr. Mingla—Cray.” Tomla El’s voice was a murmuring concert of woodwinds. “This may not be possible no matter how finely you partition the information. The answer may be that there is no answer. Nichos may simply not be capable of human affect.”

“Oh, I think you’re wrong about that.” She’d gained back the smooth control in her voice. She might have been speaking to a professional colleague about programmatic languages. “Certainly a great deal more work needs to be done before we can dismiss the possibility. I’m told also that in experiments with accelerated learning, at a certain number of multiples of human learning capacity, tremendous breakthroughs can occur. I’ve signed up for another accelerator course, this one in informational patterning dynamics …”

Her voice faded down the corridor. A great deal more work, thought Luke, hurting for her, pressing his hand to his brow. It was Cray’s answer to everything. With sufficient effort, sufficient maneuvering, any problem could be surmounted, no matter what the cost to herself.

And the cost to herself, he knew, had been devastating.

I actually really like Cray's arc in this novel--that she's forced to drop the perfectionism and workaholism she uses to block her considerable pain, and comes to accept the situation as it is, and finds peace in doing so. I just wish this realization didn't culminate in assisted suicide, that's all.

(That said, this scenario gets 100% creepier if you imagine flipping the genders here--if “Dr. Mingla” was a male scientist resurrecting his female lover in a droid body. I wonder if Luke would have intervened sooner in that case, instead of just assuming Cray had everything under control because she was an expert?)

While we're on the subject of "by any means necessary" and "avoiding one's problems": in contrast to Cray, Callista's original decision to transfer her spirit to gunnery computer to watch over it is framed as laudable. But even there, there are hints all is not well:

“It wasn’t … so bad, after a time. Djinn had taught us, had theoretically walked us through, the techniques of projecting the mind into something else, something that would be receptive, to hold the intelligence as well as the consciousness, but he seemed to regard it as cowardly. As being afraid or unwilling to go on to the next step, to cross over to the other side. Once I was in the computer …”

I.e., there's a reason why essence transfer is mostly practiced by the Sith--because it's a kind of clinging to life, or a version of life, rather than embracing what is and moving on...

Also, I don't see anything in this explanation that requires computing capacity, as Callista will claim later, so... *shrugs* I don't know what's happening there. CotJ has this weird relationship between the Force and tech, where Luke can physically manipulate objects with his mind, even though the Force is only generated by "life", but Irek remote-starting the Eye of Palpatine or controlling Artoo-Detoo is seen as "impossible" and novel. And yes, Irek does have special training and tech augments to help him, and I like the implication this is a specialized skill, but...like I said at the beginning, I don't get how this all works except for “narrative convenience” and “authorial fiat”.

Anyway, CotJ strongly implies that Cray was misguided to cling to Nichos and to pursue "life" for him at all costs, for both Nichos and herself. Yet somehow when Callista does it, it's okay, because Luke loves her... even though Callista herself is way more ambivalent about what she's done, and her acknowledgment that

“Everything has to be paid for... I should have known there would be a risk... I might have guessed there would be a price.”

And I think that's one reason I like Children of the Jedi so much: that there IS a cost, that there ARE consequences, and not even magic space wizardry can fix or solve every problem. I like that Callista pays a price for the ethically dubious act she does--somewhat, but not entirely mitigated by circumstances, and by Cray's eagerness to participate in this (unprecedented?) experiment.

Also, you want more nightmare fuel? I just realized last night we only have Callista's word for what went down on the ship in its last moments--that, and it seems 100% in keeping with Cray's state of mind leading up to this, to the point where Luke was afraid to leave her alone because he was worried she was going to hurt herself. It gets even creepier when you realize Callista's ghost immediately volunteers to sit with Cray after Luke realizes this, and I can't help but wonder what happened between the two women when Luke isn't around to witness it.

Callista's account at the end makes it sound like Cray realized at the last minute that she wanted to follow him--that it was an impulsive decision, somewhere in between stunning Luke and stuffing him into the shuttle and the destruction of the Eye of Palpatine--but I wonder. I really wonder. Cray and Callista clearly had time to plan a "what if Luke doesn't cooperate?" scenario and leave a recording for him to find in the shuttle, so I wonder how exactly the whole "you can have my body, I don't want it" conversation went down. There's a fic in there for sure.

But even taking Callista 100% at her word, I like the irony that she chooses to go along with Cray's scheme in part because she's so in love with/emotionally attached to Luke (just as Cray can't let go of Nichos and Luke can't let go of Callista)--only to eventually realize that there's something she values more than her relationship with him, namely her own life, and her own relationship to the Force, which has always been a part of her life and is now "missing". Cray chooses to die for love, Callista chooses to live for love... only to set it aside, because LIFE is more important to her than her love for one specific human being... just like she sacrificed her own life to destroy the Eye, and left her first lover in the process... PARALLELS, Y'ALL. I LOVE ME SOME NARRATIVE FOILS, YO.

Anyway, this got long and rambling, but I believe my initial thesis that essence transfer is wildly inconsistent and the results depend almost entirely on narrative convenience still stands.

#star wars #Children of the Jedi #eu fuckery #SW meta #star war legends

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casantaloupe · 7 years

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So for my creative writing class I had to write a story of a character I made up meeting a zombie for the first time. So that happened. Anyway, I kinda liked it so here it is under the cut

Allow me to describe for you the first time I encountered the undead. It’s a moment that sticks with you, not just because of how terrifying it is, but because of how often you’ve imagined it before. And how wrong you were each of those times. You see, I’d always imagined that someday I’d run into some slow, sniffling, mostly-dead-but-not-really mass of rotting tissue in a dark alley, slowly cutting off my only escape and dooming me to a final five or six minutes of pure terror before it eviscerated my sorry ass. Or, if I was feeling particularly confident that day, I’d imagine how it would feel to run into that same situation and beat the living shit out of it. Well, non-living shit. You get the idea.

I’d imagine it cutting me off in the alley and slowly ambling toward me, my resolve hardening as the threat grew closer. Then, if I was feeling romantic, perhaps there would be a distressed, scantily-clad, damsel behind me, relying on me for her defense. Naturally, this fantasy would progress to me absolutely brutalizing this poor undead bastard, somehow without ruining my hair, and then the aforementioned damsel would be so impressed by my stunning display of masculinity and martial affinity that she would demand that I make love to her right then and there, undead corpse (is that superfluous?) notwithstanding.

And then I would wake up and remember that, considering who I am as a person and the women that I typically keep company with, this situation would probably be reversed. Whatever woman was unfortunate enough to babysit my useless ass would go re-murder the creature while I hid behind a dumpster, taking solace in the fact that I wasn’t the only trash in the alley and letting out a few super-manly squeaks whenever a piece of the undead getting its shit kicked in happened to land near me.

But, surprisingly enough, neither of these things is what happened the first time I met an undead. For one thing, we met at the Wendy’s drive through. On the other hand, I honestly didn’t realize what it was until I’d literally touched it. Now, I recognize, and freely admit, that I’m a grade A, FDA-approved dumbass. But this might’ve been the single dumbest moment of my life. Actually, I take that back. That thing with the C4 in the fireplace probably was (shut up, I needed to hide a birthday present). But this was the second dumbest moment of my life.

As I said before, I was in the Wendy’s drive through. You’d think that a literal zombie apocalypse would close down Wendy’s, or at least the drive through, but you’d be wrong. Living dead in the streets? Fuck it, let’s get a frosty.

The zombie had apparently had the same thought, and I ended up stuck behind him (them? Does gender carry over into zombieness? I kinda doubt it. I mean, I guess I could’ve asked them for their preferred pronouns but I don’t know how to spell argghghhgughghugh very well. Shit I just did. Ok, I don’t want to type that every time I refer to it. Or try to figure out plurals and possessives and all that shit. Fuck it, I’m just gonna use them. Or it. They/it can eat a dick-shaped brain if they don’t like it.) So here we were. Me, in my ’97 Toyota Avalon, in line for a Baconator and a frosty. The zombie, just standing right by the window doing nothing while a tired teenager who wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with this tried to convince it to go away. Now, I had the windows up and had some music on (Here I Go Again by White Snake. What? I’d had a shitty day and needed some motivation to go on. You try listening to that song and not getting motivated. Hell, it almost motivated me to order a chicken sandwich instead of the Baconator. Almost.), so I didn’t hear any of this. All I saw was delicious beef and bacon, and some stupid fuck standing in my way. So I honked. A lot. And when that did nothing, I did what any rational human being would do: I kept honking. Because I’m a problem-solver.

After about thirty seconds of honking, my attention span was stretched to the breaking point and I decided to get out of the car (pro tip: NEVER GET OUT OF THE CAR EVER YOU STUPID ASSHOLE) and confront this idiot standing in the way of my impending lunch. Now, I’m not normally a very aggressive person, but when I get hungry, things change. Snickers had it right. So I walk up to the thing in my way, and with all the confidence of a 22-year-old who’s never punched anything before, but has played about 300 hours of Tekken, I grab the figure’s shoulder and say, “Hey buddy, why don’t you AGHH OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!!?”

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Wow, that was an unexpected way for that sentence to end. He went from bluster and belligerence to abject pants-pissing terror in the space of 3 words.” To which I would reply with: 1. You clearly don’t know me very well, that happens about once a week. And 2. Let’s see you almost eskimo kiss a zombie and not freak out. Quit judging me. Asshole.

So yeah, the thing turns around and it’s a zombie. Right in front of me. About 3 inches from my dumb face. And this was honestly one of the most surreal moments of my life. It was like I was so scared I went all the way back around the spectrum to calm again. Like my body didn’t know what to do with this insane spike of emotion, so it just said “Fuck it. No emotions for you.”

The zombie stood just in front of me. They were about 6 foot 2, just within the “kind of intimidating but not overly so” range of heights. They were wearing a large hoodie, which explains why I didn’t realize it was a zombie until I literally touched it. And its face was…weird. Like, really weird. Its mouth was open to a point that was unsettling without being obvious why. See, if it had been just slightly ajar it would’ve looked like someone breathing through their mouth, and if it had been wide open it would’ve looked like someone who was either really surprised or trying to catch some food in their mouth. Instead it was at an awkward in-between stage. Like the middle school of mouth openings. Like it couldn’t really decide what it wanted to be, so it decided to be half of all the things it thought was cool and that ended up being literally the worst choice it could’ve possibly made and all the other kids made fun of it and it had to sit at the lunch table all alone eating peanut butter and honey sandwiches on white bread and trying to pretend like it wanted to get picked last for kickball… sorry, what was I talking about? Right, the zombie. So its mouth was weird, we’ve established that. And projected a little bit. Moving on.

Stepping back and taking in the whole face, everything just moved further down the uncanny valley. Their face held a blank expression, as expected for a zombie, but it’s hard to describe what kind. You see, there are several types of blank expressions. There’s the blank expression you have when you watch someone steal your parking space right in front of you. The kind of blank expression where you just sit there and blink a couple times, staring off in a random direction like you’re Jim in The Office and there’s a camera watching you. This is the kind where you have to take a second to process. To sit there and think, “Wow, did that really just happen? Does God really hate me that much? Is this payback for candy bar I stole when I was 9? Who knew God was such a petty bitch.” This is what I call the Angry Blank.

There’s also the Confused Blank. This is the kind of blank expression where it’s your first day of college and you walk into your first class, all excited for this new journey you’re about to take and all the friends you’re gonna make, and you spend the first 15 minutes of class accidentally daydreaming about how great the next four years are gonna be and then you look up at the board and see a bunch of bullshit equations on the board and wonder what the fuck is going on, why are there equations in a first-year religion class, and then look around and see no one else questioning it, and then realize that you’re in the wrong room and this is a vector calculus course and your dumb ass could barely pass algebra 0.5 so you stand up and have to awkwardly step over about 13 seniors who are all trying to take notes and then the professor notices and stops talking for a second and you know he’s staring at you but you can’t turn around because it’s like you’re Frodo and the professor is the eye of Sauron and if you look at him he’ll steal your soul or some shit and you run out of the room and straight back to your dorm where you get on the computer and drop your religion class so you never have to go in that building again. That kind of blank expression.

And there are a few other types, but they aren’t relevant here so I’m going to ignore them like I’m a GOP senator and they’re climate change evidence. The zombie had a strange mixture of these two blank expressions on their face, like they were angry and trying to process it, but then while they were processing the anger they forgot why they were angry. So now they were just walking around, angry, hoping to run into something that would give them a brain-blast or something and remind them of why they were angry.

I took in all of this in about a second and a half, so terrified that I felt calm again, as I mentioned before. The zombie just stood there and looked at me, its dead eyes (both in the literal sense and the figurative sense) locked somewhere above my left shoulder, which was honestly the scariest part of the whole encounter. Either it was looking at something behind me, in which case I badly wanted to see what it was but didn’t want to turn away from the zombie in front of me because fear. Or it simply couldn’t focus its eyes on me and that was the best it could get, which is pretty creepy. We both stood there for a while, me not moving because I was afraid that its vision was based on movement like it was a goddamned T-rex and the zombie not moving because who the fuck knows? Eventually, the poor teenager working the window asked me if I was gonna order anything, drawing the zombie’s attention back to the window, and that was enough to break my reverie. I broke and sprinted the five feet to my car, got in so fast I slammed my head against the roof, possibly giving myself a concussion, and hauled ass out of that drive through, narrowly missing the zombie on my way out.

I drove straight to the Wendy’s on the other side of town and ordered myself a Baconator and two frosties because I’d fucking earned them. I just stared death in the face and ran away like a little bitch. I needed the calories if I was gonna keep running like that. Endurance had never been my strong suit.

#i like this class lol #this was fun as hell to write #writing

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