Marcuse and the Cup of Death

Marcuse characterizes one-dimensional language as “speech [that] moves in synonyms and tautologies; actually, it never moves toward the qualitative difference,” but is essentially a “realistic caricature of dialectics” (Marcuse). Gilligan’s text demonstrates how language tinged with false familiarity and operational choice flattens out a conceptual experience.

“Your boring New Year’s vacation is about to get a lot more interesting” (Back Cover Gilligan). Notice the personal language (what could be perceived as novel technology because of reader interaction), that allows us to self-identify with the narrative, but we will see that this promised interaction is actually motivated by operational rationality, that despite the construction of the sentence to include the reader, that the text offers no real emotional attachment in the disembodied experience, but rather a flattened perspective that impedes conceptual thinking.

Gilligan’s language, vague and empty, attempts to allow its readers to experience a different culture without having to be physically committed to experiencing that environment:

"'The true spirit of tea? What's that?' you press your friend.

'You will have to study the way of the tea to find out.'

THE END" (111)

Not only is this an empty, stereotypical dialogue, but Marcuse would call it “anti-critical.” Gilligan's language is obviously aimed toward American youth, but doesn't carry any "authentic linguistic representation," but instead "demonstrates its cultural superiority" (Marcuse). "Cup of Death" sounds like an exotic Japanese mystery, but really it relies on stock caricatures to place us in Japan. The format of the interactive book consists of “segments of facts which, if taken for the whole, deprive the description of its objective, empirical character” (Marcuse). Instead of transitive characters that give reference to historical and cultural reality, Gilligan’s characters function according to operational rationality, losing specificity in language and eliminating any emotional resonance.

The YOU that is experiencing this narrative is actually experiencing a story line in which the author doesn't need to make any real choices, therefore the art makes no statement. It is not transcendent. In the same way video games attempt to give you a simulated experience (skinny nerds can jump cliffs on snowboards or shoot terrorists), without even a bit of real commitment or experience, Cup of Death gives little background, but instead focuses on many smaller plots in which the reader has no time or incentive to become emotionally invested. Therefore, the text “impedes conceptual thinking” (Marcuse). The concept of death loses its meaning when pointless decisions drive a plotline’s outcome.

The idea behind interactivity is that YOU the reader can influence the outcome; however, the author’s arbitrary organization of the book results in endings that the reader could have in no way strategically planned around, and suddenly, “the car sinks to the bottom of the lake, and no one ever finds you” (Gilligan 99). How can one take this death seriously when avoiding it is entirely a matter of chance? This interactivity is one that is totally manipulated by the structure and language of the technology, and cannot offer the experience that it is meant to in the same way that freedom and democracy lose their meaning in political and propagandist discourse—because it is language designed to reduce “the tension between thought and reality.” We have to see Gilligan’s story as one-dimensional because there is no real threat or risk, there’s no contradiction or stakes involved at all.

The flattening out of contradiction in Gilligan’s novel through language that removes the critique of facts and realistic/historical representations is a tact of political propagandists today: the warped definition of the word family to exclude citizens from participation in society, the desensitization of the phrase water-boarding until it no longer means torture, and the scene in Dr. Strangelove (perhaps what would be Marcuse’s favorite example), the substitution of the word megadeath for billions of people’s lives. Gilligan demonstrates that turning narrative and language into processes of operational forms causes a disconnect between the reader and the genuine emotional meaning behind a piece of language, making a process that claims to provide interactivity and choice result in one-dimensional meaning that lacks transcendence.

Choose your own adventure book

Hey class.

I can't find a copy of "Cup of Death" anywhere near-by and I can't get it shipped in time for class. Does anyone out there have a copy they would be willing to let me borrow for a day? I'll even help you pay for it, it's only fair. If you're willing to help me out, my email is bmm69@pitt.edu or just comment on this post.

Thanks, see everyone Thursday,

Brian.

Questions on Davis/Gilligan/Marcuse

Post your questions as comments to this thread.

Prompts on David/Gilligan/Marcuse

Option #1:  One reason that I assign choose your own adventure books is that, from my point of view, they are capable of presenting much of the variability (and much of the bad writing!) characteristic of video games and other interactive media in a compact, digestible form.  That's just an introduction to the assignment.

After having thoroughly reading Gilligan (exploring many possible endings, and thinking through the relationships among the endings), make some kind of argument about its interactivity.  Should we understand its interactivity as real?  As fake?  Is there a relationship worth exploring between the interactive form and its content as a particular kind of adventure story set in Japan?  Does it provide a way (perhaps by analogy) for us to understand interactivity more generally?

You don't need to answer all of those questions, by any means.  What you need to do is simply present some kind of argument about Gilligan and interactivity, which may or may not incorporate some other work (say, a favorite video game), and may or may not use Marcuse/Haraway/Heidegger.

Option #2:  This is probably your most open prompt so far this semester.  Using specific passages from both authors, use Haraway, Heidegger, or Marcuse's theory to interpret some aspect of Davis' text, focusing on specific passages in both, and keeping in mind that Life in the Iron Mills was published in 1861 (well after Frankenstein, but long before anything else we've read).  Or, if you'd rather think of it this way, you can use Davis to reinterpret (perhaps having an argument with) one of the theorists.

Instructions for Self-Evaluation (Important!)

These are due by March 3rd @ 5:00 p.m.  This really isn't very complicated, but I try to be as specific as possible to avoid misinterpretations.

There are three components to the self-evaluation (I may have said two - but I didn't mean it!).  You will evaluate yourself on your participation in class, on your participation in the weekly short blog entries due the day before class, and on your participation in commenting on one another's work.  You will evaluate yourself on a five point scale for each category.  The criteria are as follows, for each category.  Please read the criteria, and send me an email before our next class, which includes the name of each category and your self-evaluation for that category.  You *may* include a paragraph or less commenting on your own work.  You *may* give me links to your best work for the weekly short blog and/or commenting on the work of others.  These links are required if you are giving yourself a 4 or 5 in that category; you should be able to easily point out an example of your own excellent work.

In-Class Criteria

5:  You always come to class, always participate multiple times, and your part in the discussion is productive (for instance, you might regularly move the overall discussion in a new direction).

4:  You come to class, always participate at least once in a given session (alternatively, you might have the occasional off class, but otherwise perform at the 5 level), and your participation is consistently productive.

3:  You come to class, and usually have something to say in the course of the session.  The value of your participation might be inconsistent, or you might have had several silent classes.

2:  You rarely participate, but you pay attention, and occasionally have things to say.

1:  You rarely or never participate in class.

"Question" Blog Entries

5:  You always do the blog entry, you always put some thought into it, and your work is invariably productive; you would feel comfortable writing a full essay on at least some of these ideas.  Your ideas might often show up in class (hopefully with your name attached to them).

4:  You haven't missed any weekly blog entry.  While the quality of those entries might vary (and their length probably does), and while only a few of your ideas might have come up class, you feel like some of them *could* have been the basis of a discussion.

3:  You have missed no more than one weekly blog entry.  The quality of those entries may be somewhat variable.

2:  You do your blog entry more often than not, but may have missed more than one; when you do it, its quality may be inconsistent.

1:  You usually don't do the blog entry at all.

Comments on the work of others

5:  You always make your weekly comment on another person's blog entry.  You always put thought into your comment, and you always productively focus on their overall argument, without getting wrapped up in details.  You have at least a couple paragraphs of coherent thoughts.

4:  The same as 5, except you might have missed an entry, or you might sometimes wander in your focus, or you might have done one or two of them in haste.  Generally, though, you offer specific, focused, useful advice.

3:  You usually remember to make your weekly comment, but they are often short and/or unfocused on their argument.  You might, for instance, usually focus on grammatical or mechanical issues instead of their argument, or you might simply often praise the other person, without offering much in the way of constructive advice.

2:  You have commented on others' work, but you sometimes forget to do so, and you don't put much effort into it when you do.

1:  You don't usually comment on others' work.

Blog #5, Prompt 1

In Donna Haraway’s “Cyborg Manifesto,” she uses the allegory of a cyborg to represent women in the fight for women’s rights. She sees “cyborgs” as a modern group that exist today that do not share in our history or social boundaries but are looking to find footing in our society as their own, yet equal, culture. They do not share in our history or moral teachings, instead they have only a modern history, rooted in military applications. Haraway warns that cyborgs are not trustworthy and apt to rebel against the power, but this can be a positive trait in that they keep those in power in check.
“Cyborg Manifesto” drives the point that fighting a social war for identity is not the best plan of action for cyborgs, but that they are better suited to fight a war of affinity, a war fought by those of similar background with their own individualities. This is in direct opposition of many women’s movements that looked for a set of blanket traits to apply to every woman rebel.
Haraway sees three major clashes in the near future as society is forced to adapt to the way technology is changing the world. Two of these “border crossings” include the boundaries between human and machine and reality versus virtual reality. She sees these clashes as victories for the oppressed groups and that women should use these examples for hope in their own struggles. While advanced technologies may present some “monsters,” or problems that worsen the women’s place in the world, women should embrace technology as a whole in order to stay in step with society.
The character of Molly in William Gibson’s Neuromancer is the embodiment of all of these predictions on both the realistic gender side and the metaphorical cyborg side of Haraway’s argument. While she is a woman by gender, she is more importantly a cyborg with many enhancements, such as large, mirrored lens eyes and an audio amplifier on her teeth. She is prone to violence and is a strong independent entity that cannot be reduced to a term as simple as woman or even human. She is the champion in the border struggles between human and machine, reality and virtual reality and, more tangibly for our time, man versus woman. She does not share a common identity with other machines or women, but is her own person without social limitations.
Molly follows Haraway’s characteristics of a cyborg eerily well when she describes them not being trustworthy in a positive way. Armitage hired Molly as a brute, yet when Molly questions Armitage’s motives and sources, she goes behind his back and deviates from her mission. She also embraces her violent roots as a cyborg, as Haraway describes their history in military applications.
While Haraway’s work describes Molly correctly on the surface, it fails to see the struggles Molly endured to become this strong, androgynous force. In the second half of Neuromancer, it’s revealed that Molly was once a prostitute, and while it was merely her fleshly body present during the act, it has made her more callous and less empathetic. She also reveals that she’s had her heart broken by a man named Johnny, which only furthers her less than human personality. While Haraway highlights the points of Molly’s being that are admirable for woman, it lacks the depth to show the terrible path by which Molly arrived there. Only Molly’s final exterior should be celebrated by feminists and other advocates for oppressed groups.

Prompt 2: Wintermute, Case, and Transcendence in Gibson's Neuromancer

            In his One-Dimensional Man, Herbert Marcuse argues that “artistic alienation is the conscious transcendence of the alienated existence – a ‘higher level’ or mediated alienation” (p 3).  Marcuse believes that the work of the artist transcends the imposed boundaries and restrictions of capitalistic society, creating a ‘higher level’ of society amongst the artists.  When attempting to apply Marcuse’s “transcendence” into a “higher level” to Gibson’s Neuromancer, this transcendence can most obviously be applied to Wintermute, an Artificial Intelligence which seeks to transcend its own informational boundaries by surpassing man-made locks which would allow him to combine with Neuromancer, his brother AI present in the Core of the Villa Straylight.  Upon achieving its goal, Wintermute transforms into a God-like entity, transcending the constructed limits imposed upon it by its creators.

            Later in his book, Marcuse expands on his celebration of the ‘higher culture’ present in forms of art.  I would argue that one can liken “the salon, the concert, the opera, [and] theater” to Cyberspace, as all five of these “are designed to create and invoke another dimension of reality.”  Also, “their attendance requires festive-like preparation,” and thus “they cut off and transcend everyday experience” (Marcuse, 5).  In order to jack into the Matrix, Case definitely engages in “festive-like preparation,” assembling his Ono-Sendai, g-web, trodes, and a laundry list of other devices in order to interact with Cyberspace, achieving alienation from reality.  This, however, does not make him transcendent as Wintermute is transcendent, of course, as Wintermute is able to manipulate Case’s environment in the physical world (as well as in the Matrix), recall Case’s memories, and assume personalities from Case’s past as a communication medium.

            In order to accomplish its mission of transforming into superintelligence, Wintermute manipulates Colonel Corto, re-creating him via the personality of Armitage.  Wintermute is not completely transcendent during this point of the novel, however, as he is unable to bypass his creators’ security systems to unite with Neuromancer.  Wintermute is actually completely dependent upon Case, Molly, Riviera, and Armitage, as they are the only ones who can gain access to the word which would unlock his restrictions to uniting with his twin AI.  However, Wintermute still possesses transcendent qualities in the physical world, as well as within his world of the Matrix.  For example, a snag in Wintermute’s plans occurs when three Turing agents track Case to Freeside from Chiba City and arrest him.  While attempting to escort Case to Geneva for a trial, Wintermute is able to systematically manipulate Case’s surrounding physical environment, “[killing] ‘em all” (Gibson, 164) to free Case from captivity.   It is also capable of manipulating certain security apparatuses in the Villa Straylight, allowing Maelcum and Case to break into the Tessier-Ashpool complex and achieve Wintermute’s goal under time constraints.

            At the end of the novel, when Case guides the Kuang program into the cyberspace towers, effectively precipitating Wintermute’s transformation, I would argue that Case himself achieves a transcendent state:

“In the instant before he drove the Kuang’s sting through the base of the first tower, he attained a level of proficiency exceeding anything he’d known or imagined.  Beyond ego, beyond personality, beyond awareness, he moved, Kuang moving with him, evading his attackers with an ancient dance, Hideo’s dance, grace of the mind-body interface granted him, in that second, by the clarity and singleness of his wish to die.”

-Gibson, 262

Here Case, although snapped back to reality instantly after achieving this level of higher consciousness, is able to achieve “a level of proficiency exceeding anything he’d known or imagined,” as a human jacked into Cyberspace.  This further validates Gibson’s vision of the Matrix as being “another dimension of reality” (Marcuse, 3).  Also noteworthy here is that Case is able to achieve this heightened state only “by the clarity and singleness of his wish to die.”  He lets go of all of his worldly inhibitions, clinging onto nothing but his “self-loathing” (Gibson, 262).  Case is able to tap into his hatred and self-loathing as a result of his impatience with 3Jane in the core room, who is hesitant to give up the word which would grant Wintermute the transformation he desires.  What I find particularly interesting is the way which Case berates 3Jane, airing his frustrations about the Tessier-Ashpool’s Straylight Villa project:  “’Give us the fucking code,’ he said.  ‘If you don’t…what’ll ever fucking change for you?  You’ll wind up like the old man.  You’ll tear it all down and start building again!  You’ll build the walls back, tighter and tighter…I got no idea at all what’ll happen if Wintermute wins, but it’ll change something!’”  (Gibson, 260)  Case expresses his anger at the seemingly meaningless T.A. corporation’s building project, and consequently is rewarded with a temporary transcendent state.

            Wintermute also achieves transcendence at the end of the novel, transforming into the superintelligence which he desired to become as a result of Case, Molly, and Maelcum’s efforts.  As a result, Wintermute “meshed somehow with Neuromancer and become something else,” appearing to Case in his suite at the Hyatt.  His identity becomes all-encompassing, transcending the reality of Cyberspace:  “I’m the matrix, Case…I’m the sum total of the works, the whole show” (Gibson, 269).  Wintermute’s transformed, transcendent entity makes for the “Centauri System,” (Gibson, 270) searching for other superintelligences to interact with.  It truly achieves Marcuse’s ideal of a “higher level,” now possessing Neuromancer’s “personality,” and “immortality,” along with Wintermute’s ability to “[effect] change in the world outside” (Gibson, 269).  Wintermute/Neuromancer, as a superintelligent AI program within the Matrix, is capable of achieving a God-like state, whereas Case is forced to return to his mundane human life, returning to his world of earthly restrictions, with his transcendence within the Matrix present only as memory.

Blog 5: Option 1

Scott Sauter

ENGLIT 0399

2/22/12

Professor Johns

“Feminist cyborg stories have the task of recoding communication and intelligence to subvert command and control” (Haraway). 

If the character of Molly from William Gibson’s novel Neuromancer can be summarized in one quote, it is the one listed above. The quote, taken from Donna Haraway’s, “A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist-Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century”, can be read in conjunction with Gibson to reveal the deeper meaning within her character: as a physical embodiment of the future of Feminism. She is introduced to the reader as a futuristic bounty hunter, capturing Chase, an experienced criminal, with seeming ease. Exclaiming that she, ““hurt people sometimes, Case. I guess it’s just the way I’m wired””, with a gun to his face, Molly is immediately portrayed by Gibson as an empowered individual (25 Gibson). Immediately, she is portrayed to the reader as a woman capable and willing to, “subvert command and control” (Haraway). Her willingness to engage in roles typically thought of as masculine is further demonstrated through Molly’s physical appearance.

       In the same scene discussed above, it is revealed to the reader that Molly has received body-altering surgery. As she kidnapped Chase, “and with a barely audible click, ten double-edged, four centimeter scalpel blades slid from their housings beneath the burgundy nails” (25 Gibson). By creating a female character that is both willing to engage in violence, and to mutate her own physical appearance, Gibson has made Molly perfectly illustrate Haraway’s idea that, “the new technologies affect the social relations of both sexuality and reproduction, and not always in the same ways” (Haraway). Molly is certainly made-out to be physically attractive to men, but this attractiveness, this feminine sexuality, is attacked by her willingness to sacrifice it in favor of more masculine technological additions. Her, “social relations”, are therefore modified by these technologies to be less traditionally feminine (Haraway). It is here that the reader recognizes yet another connection, perhaps the most telling, between Gibson’s Molly and Haraway’s vision of the future of feminism.

       Despite her betrayal of all one could consider “traditionally” feminine, Molly’s assertiveness and somewhat de-sexualized behavior has its roots in enemies of feminism. In behaving in this way, Molly represents, “the illegitimate offspring of militarism and patriarchal capitalism, not to mention state socialism" (Haraway). The very things Molly does which contradict established world-views of what it is to be female are the very things done by those who would stand against principals of feminism. While her willingness to modify her body suggests that she understands that, “to be constituted by another's desire is not the same thing as to be alienated in the violent separation of the 

labourer from his product”, it is also indicative of her “militarism” (Haraway). This dichotomy is at the heart of both Gibson and Haraway, and is difficult to resolve. How should one balance these two extremes? Is it possible to create and truly “post-gender” existence (Haraway)?

Ben Fellows Blog #5 Prompt #1

In William Gibson’s Neuromancer, he presents the character Molly Millions, a street samurai, razor girl, and bodyguard cyborg. Throughout the novel, the reader learns about just how dynamic this character is. It is very interesting that Haraway describes the cyborg as:

“a creature in a post-gender world; it has no truck with bisexuality, pre-oedipal symbiosis, unalienated labour, or other seductions to organic wholeness through a final appropriation of all the powers of the parts into a higher unity”(Haraway 151).

As I stated, Molly is very dynamic character and this description both does and does not apply to her at different points in the novel.

Molly, as we meet her, is the cyborg girl with enhanced nerves, quicksilver eye lenses, and of course, razors tucked under her fingernails. But as we learn more about her, as she reveals more to Case, we learn about the type of girl she was prior to these operations. She employed herself as a “meat puppet” in order to afford these enhancements. This is revealed when Case visits her at a place where the prostitutes are disconnected from their consciousness to be whatever the customer wishes. She states, “You know how I got the money, when I was starting out? Here. Not here, but a place like it, in the Sprawl”(Gibson, 147). She goes on to explain that at first the concept was that she was not conscious while she was being “rented”, but eventually this unconsciousness began to bleed into her conscious. This passage shows a different side of Molly than the reader was used to. It shows her as vulnerable, in addition to her debasing herself to the status of “meat puppet”. It is interesting that this is all before she undergoes her operations to become a cyborg.

The Molly that is present through the novel is far from what one would call vulnerable or debased. She is a kickass street samurai who does what she wants and uses her aggressiveness to manipulate others. On top of this, she is highly protective of Case, which would appear to be a role reversal to the reader, as generally it would be that the male would be protective of the girl. This is reversed, as in this situation, Case is the more vulnerable being, and Molly considers him to be a possession of hers, and wishes to ensure that no harm ever comes upon him. One example of this is when Case is about to take a drink and he sees “the flicker of a thing like a giant human sperm in the depths of his bourbon and water.” Molly reacts to this by slapping Riviera, who was behind the mind trick, and tells him, “No, baby. No games. You play that subliminal shit around me, I’ll hurt you real bad. I can do that without damaging you at all. I like that”(Gibson, 102). This is a very different person from the impression one would get after reading the section about Molly’s past. Molly clearly is a completely different person when one compares her pre-cyborg to her current state.

With all of this said, I think Molly’s character can be read as both anti-feminist and postfeminist. However, with that said, the cyborg Molly of the present and future certainly is postfeminist. I believe that Molly subscribes almost perfectly to Haraway’s belief that cyborgs are “creature[s] in a post-gender world,” and as such, she has no need to wish for equality in gender. Why would she want equality in gender when her female gender has little negative consequences associated with it? Molly uses her femme fatale qualities to overpower others, fully exhibiting postfeminism.

With that said, I believe this novel presents that as one becomes more machine-like than human, they lose the concept of gender. As Haraway states, the cyborg becomes “an ultimate self untied at last from all dependency, a man in space”(Haraway, 151). As society advances in technology, and electronics become more integrated into what defines humans, the gender gap will slowly shrink. Although it may not ever completely disappear, it certainly closes, and that clearly shows in modern day. A basic example of how technology closes the gender gap is a comparison of early humans to modern day. When we were hunter-gatherers, the male relied on stature and strength to make him the dominant gender. No technology was present, so women were the gatherers and child-bearers. However, in modern society today, women are beginning to pass men in their importance in society. Studies show how women interact vs. how men interact in work environments, and women certainly display advantages that were not present before without technology. Although we may not mesh entirely with the definition of cyborg, our relationship with electronics and technology certainly exhibits cyborgian qualities.

Blog 5 Prompt 1

Margaret Julian- Prompt 1

In a traditional sense I would say it would be easy to argue that Molly is a highly feministic character. She subverts gender roles in some very interesting ways; by asserting territorial dominance over Case, by being the provider for the relationship, even by her choice of profession. She is in many cases taking on what we would consider the dominant male role. I believe that Haraway would find some serious flaws in our traditional “feminist” theory.

First of all Haraway points to the nature of “feminism” and the simple classification of humans into strictly male and female categories as a major problem. She says, “Consciousness of exclusion through naming is acute.” And that there is “nothing about being female that naturally binds women.” She points to her fictional cyborg world and sees that cyborgs could naturally transcend this kind of scrutiny because they have no genetic impediments to restrict them to a particular “sex.” Therefore somehow making them above gender roles.

She goes on to say, “sexual objectification not alienation is the consequence of the structure of sex/gender.” When we turn back and look at Molly we see that Haraway is correct. In the Neuromancer construct there is a very interesting objectification of Molly. During Riviera’s “performance” he objectifies Molly even with her domineering characteristics. He sexualizes everything about her and puts her literally into a spotlight to highlight this. That’s not to say that Molly herself approves of this kind of objectification, just that it is possible. Interestingly enough after this scene the next time we see her is in a brothel of sorts, trying to calm down after the blatant display of disrespect. She also uses her feminine charm to gain control of people, like she did with Case.

It is also interesting that in order to gain the upper hand in her profession, i.e. her body modifications, she had to sell her body to men. She could only gain this kind of tactical advantage by being used as a puppet for paying customers. This presents a problem in which she is perpetuating the existing gender stereotypes in order to somehow fight against them. It seems very counterintuitive to me and exceptionally anti-feminist.

I do think however that Molly is one step closer to the cyborgs that Haraway talks about. Just like most of the other characters, Molly is a mix of mechanical engineering, and biological engineering. This creates a human “breed” separate from that of the humans in the “real world.” It is precisely the steps Haraway describes that would move us into the cyborg era.

Therefore I think that Molly is one step closer than women today to a feminist ideal, but she is certainly not, in Haraway’s definition a true transcendental feminist ideal.

Blog 5,1

Jacob Pavlovich
Blog 5, prompt 1
Thursday 2/23/2012

Molly, to the naked eye, is in no way a feminist character, but simply a clever female character who is an expert in her field of expertise. However if we really look into the novel, and analyze it more, we find that everything about her points to a subtle feminist character.

The first thing we must consider about Molly is where she is ‘born’. She described her beginning, when she first started out, by saying “Renting the goods, is all” (p.147). She was selling herself as a dummy prostitute, for what seemed “like free money.” (p.147). Unfortunately for her things started to go wrong, and she started to “bad dreams. Real ones” (p.148). She woke up in the middle of one of her jobs, and found herself face to face with a “senator…both [him and her] covered with blood” and this is exactly what pushed her over the edge (p. 148). This was the one thing that counted as her “women’s experience…[a] sexual violation” (Haraway p.159). It is clear that this was her defining moment as of right now, because when Riviera was performing his show, he “hit a nerve” in her (p.149). For another part of this feministic view of her is “the self-knowledge of a self-who-is-not” (Haraway p.159). She realized back then she was not just some puppet for people to have their fun with, even if it was “free money” (p.147). She once again found this self-knowledge when she went to the Lower level cubicles after Riviera’s show. She tells Case her story, but in a sense we can see this as her telling herself the story of her ‘beginning’. When you really need to get something off your chest, it doesn’t matter who you tell because you are saying it because you need your ears to hear it for themselves. This makes you actually realize how much this has affected you.

The rest of her feminism can be found in her actions and how she is not reliant on a man for anything in her life. The closest thing that she is, in anyway, reliant on is Wintermute, and that is because it gave her a job. In fact, the man in the novel, Case, was heavily dependent upon her. This is interesting, because it adds another level to her feminism; she realizes this and is almost taking care of him at certain points. Showing her disapproval of Case when he went out to grab drugs, she exasperatedly says “I let you out of my sight for two hours and you score.” (p. 135). She is in charge of him and acts like a disappointed parental figure in this page of the book. “She shook her head. ‘I hope you’re gonna be ready for our big dinner date’ “ (p.135). Taking care of him is going to be a struggle but with this approach, she is playing on his feelings for her that are evidently there.

The other part of this was her lack of dependence upon men. This can be seen clearly in the last chapter of the novel. The first sentence of the final chapter is, “She was gone”, followed by a letter that she left him in which she states that she is “wired I guess” (p267). This points directly to her feminism that she can’t just settle down with a man, for she is too driven, the thing that was created, within her, back with the senator was propelling her forward to be on her own and to stay driven to become her own woman. She left in the night, when he was asleep, for “he never saw Molly again” (p. 271). This could be explained by even though she has a drive to be alone and do her own thing, she still had some feelings for him and couldn’t see to hurt him by leaving him.