Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Introduction
In a Nutshell
The thing about Philip K. Dick's view on reality is that it only stays reality so long as you don't blink. In that regard, his novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is kind of like a three-shell game. Take your eyes off Dick's switching, twisting, and shuffling hands for a second, and you never know what you'll find under the cup: an android posing as a flesh-and-blood human, a movie-star turned galactic deity, or a once bustling city turned gray nuclear wasteland? They're all just as likely as the pea you started off with.
Published in 1968, Do Androids Dream? follows Rick Deckard and John Isidore during a particularly trying day in each man's life. A bounty hunter, Rick is tasked with "retiring" six fugitive Nexus-6 androids. (Don't tell Google.) As he goes about tracking his prey, Rick begins to question the morality of his work, wondering whether these machines have evolved into something beyond wire and circuitry. Meanwhile, John Isidore houses a colonial fugitive named Pris Stratton, ending his long isolation but bringing him ever closer to crossing paths with a certain bounty hunter. No, not that bounty hunter (though that would be cool).
Although nominated for a Nebula, the novel didn't win any awards upon publication. In fact, the only major accolade it earned was placing fifty-first on the Locus Poll for All-Time Best Science Fiction Novel before 1990 (Source). And that honor was handed out in 1998, thirty years after the novel was published and more than a decade after Dick's death.
But the novel got a second act: it served as the inspiration for cult classic Blade Runner. Directed by Ridley Scott, Blade Runner is a retelling of Dick's novel, remixing several elements and getting rid of others, such as kipple and Mercerism, all together. (Although we think it mostly became popular because it starred Harrison Ford after he earned a lifetime's supply of fan love by playing Han Solo.)
The movie helped cement Dick as one seriously influential science fiction writer. His works inspired writers such as William Gibson, Ursula K. Le Guin, Roger Zelazny, and even Jonathan Lethem. Philosophers like Jean Baudrillard and Fredric Jameson also got in on the act. And let's not forget the many other popular films based on Dick's imaginings: Next, Total Recall, Minority Report, A Scanner Darkly, and Screamers.
On second thought, let's just forget Next.
We can't say Do Androids Dream? is solely responsible for Dick's far-reaching impact. But if you're looking for a world where a van driver can merge with a god, where machines can rewire your morning mood, and the edges of reality are just squiffy enough to see through, then this is the world for you.
Why Should I Care?
What does it mean to be human?
Okay, okay, we know that this sounds like a bunch of dorm-room philosophizing. But this question has a purpose beyond helping college undergrads seem deep. They force us to look at qualities of life and existence that we might otherwise overlook thanks to distractions such as keeping up on Facebook, playing video games, and choosing the right filter for our latest Instagram.
The obvious answer might be Homo sapiens—you know, two arms, two legs, and a brain that can do math, understand language, and work a tablet. But that answer doesn't hold up for very long, because fewer than 150 years ago, a vast majority of Europeans and Americans considered people of African descent to be less than human—two arms, two legs, and all.
Even today, plenty of us act as though people who live in different countries or under different circumstances are somehow less than human. (Think about sweatshops in the developing world; don't a lot of us act as though those workers aren't fully human?)
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep looks at these issues and hypothesizes that empathy, not language or the number of legs, is the key trait determining humanity. But how far does that humanity extend? Is Phil Resch still human despite his lack of empathy? Is Luba Luft a human in her ability to empathize through art despite being born factory-made chattel?
And, deep down, do we really believe that the people who make our $5 Old Navy t-shirts are fully human—and do we act as though they are? And if we don't, does that make us less than fully human?
Tough questions, Shmoopers—and important ones.