Vat technology, as one may learn from the standard accounts, began in a modest, unassuming way, in the 20th century, as I recall, in what was then known as Russia with a variety of experiments involving decapitated dogs. It is not known whence these dogs were obtained, but there is some speculation that they were the otherwise-useless residues of various experiments designed and conducted by a brilliant psychologist and animal lover, a Dr. Ivan Petrovich Pavlov. His experiments involved, amongst various things, research into conditioned reflexes. For example, he accustomed various, trusting dogs, who did not see through his machinations, to slaver at the mere sound of a bell, the bell having been previously associated with the delivery of food. At the sound of the bell, so to speak, they were ready to eat. In less controlled circumstances these results, interestingly, had already been established, though obviously informally, on numerous ranches in the Western portions of the North American continent. Pavlov, as you may know, then proceeded, perhaps after a mental breakdown or having been deserted by an exasperated or alarmed spouse, to mix electric shocks with the ringing of the bell. Predictably this troubled his experimental subjects, which then, it seems, went insane. Pavlov, it seems, was the first scientist to establish these results under rigorous conditions of experimentation. On the other hand, the principles involved, those of mixed signals, and such, inducing confusion, guilt, misery, neurosis, and insanity were already well established in several societies, cultures, and civilizations. For example, confused, guilt-ridden individuals, subjected to insidious crossconditionings, then look for relief and guidance, usually, interestingly, to their own Pavlovs, so to speak, who have devised their tortures, from which they, the Pavlovs, so to speak, profit, and by means of which they earn their livelihood. To use an analogy, it is rather like pounding a fellow on the head and then selling him aspirin. Or a better analogy might be, to castigate a fellow for breathing, or getting hungry, or urinating, and then, for a fee, compassionately forgive him for his lapses in this regard. But then, of course, encourage him to do this no more, and, indeed, forbid him to do so, and scold him if he does, and so on. Perhaps, most accurately, one insists on imposing unachievable goals on one’s targets, or dupes, or hosts, the failure to achieve which, of course, induces grief, guilt, a sense of failure, of unworthiness, and such, which symptoms are painful, and which accordingly put the erring, defective, inferior, guilt-ridden failures more and more at the mercy of the their cunning goal-setters. To resort to a simpler analogy previously noted, one supplies aspirin, but this is followed by another blow on the victim’s head, the ache of which is to be relieved by further doses of aspirin, and so on. In this way much aspirin is sold.
Callously one finds little comfort in the fact that many of the aspirin salesmen, apparent victims of their own therapeutical regimens, not unoften spend a certain amount of time striking themselves on the head with their own hammers.
At least that seems fair.
One is reminded of the fellow who struck his head frequently against brick walls because it felt so good when he stopped.
But perhaps such peculiar practices, sociological aberrations, and such, are essential to maintain in existence peculiar, sociologically aberrant societies, odd cultures, weird civilizations, and such.
It is hard to say.
One does not know.
Could it be that the very cornerstone of society, its prop and guarantee, is insanity? Could it be that at the foundation of society must lie madness? Doubtless at the foundation of some societies.
It does seem a high price to pay, surely.
But to return to the Russian experiments to which we have hitherto alluded. The dogs’ heads, missing their bodies, were allegedly kept alive for some time, at least long enough to permit photography, for example, of twisting and grimacing, and otherwise objecting insofar as lay in their power, when, for example, bitter fluids were dropped on their tongues. It is not known if similar experiments, with the advance of science in mind, were conducted with political prisoners. In any event, no pertinent photography is available, at least currently, germane to that possibility.
The next major breakthroughs relevant to these lines of research occurred in various Western laboratories and involved the brains of monkeys. The entire heads of monkeys were not used, possibly because the Western experimenters were more squeamish than their Eastern forebears. Who would not cringe before the reproachful glance of a decapitated Rhesus monkey? So mere brains were used, submerged, nourished, monitored, and so on. Brain activity was evident, but it was not clear, naturally, what the little primates were thinking about, or dreaming about. And perhaps that is just as well. Possibly leafy bowers, paradisiacal troves of bananas, possibly psychologists who had somehow missed their footing in tall trees. It is hard to say.
But from such simple beginnings eventually emerged our modern, advanced, sophisticated versions of vat technology.
Who could have envisioned at the time of envious troglodytes leaping off cliffs and flapping their arms the eventual triumphs of starship engineering?
Organ-transplant technology put in its oar, as well, in the beginning.
As is well known, as far back as the 20th century, the healthy organs of various individuals, perhaps accident victims, or such, were harvested, stored, and later transplanted into the bodies of grateful recipients. In this way many lives were saved. To be sure, a certain amount of what came to be known as Burking also took place. The etiology of the term seems founded on the name of a William Burke, once of Edinburgh, who used to supply unmarked, intact bodies to medical schools for dissection. These were quality bodies, not the deteriorated corpses dug up and supplied by your everyday grave robber. Burke was hung in 1829, by a court insensitive to the principles of utilitarianism.
It was only natural that the brain, often considered the organ of thought, should soon figure prominently in transplantation technology. A bullet through the heart, for example, leaves the brain in an excellent, if troubled, condition for several seconds, a period sufficient for a competent team of paramedics to reestablish a blood supply. Instantaneous cryogenic preservation was later commonly used, this permitting the brain to be reanimated at the convenience and discretion of the appropriate authorities. As expected, many individuals, dissatisfied with their own brains, applied for new and hopefully better brains. Many were the husbands, too, who at their wives’ urging submitted to such a procedure.
I think the converging in the offing can now be clearly discerned, that betwixt transplantation and vat technology.
As the demand for new brains burgeoned it was no more than an economic commonplace that a concomitant preservation and storage technology, eventually at affordable prices, would arise to meet the demand.
These brain shifts, exchanges, replacements, returns, trials, and so on, did promote a number of identity crises, a seeking for criteria of sameness, and such, and, indeed, so much so that for the first time in human history philosophers, who had hitherto idly occupied themselves with such issues, came to occupy not only a respected but a lucrative place in society.
The next obvious step was to establish contact with the stored brains, and press them for their views on these matters. For example, would the brain of A object to being implanted in the body of B, and so on. Dialogue was essential. Thus arose a new field in law, that of brain rights.
In the beginning this communication was primitive, often amounting to little more than a Yes, a No, a Hell No, and so on. But soon dialogue with the disembodied brains became more sophisticated, and brains that began by playing poker and checkers moved ahead to bridge, to chess, and pinochle.
One supposes it was only inevitable that the brain-rights movement would lead to a concern with the experiences of the disembodied brains. Were they content? Were they happy? What did they do for recreation? How about entertainment? What would they like to do? What sort of music would they like to think they were hearing? What would they like to think they were eating? Would they like to think they were watching sunsets? That could be arranged. Would they like to think they were reading a good book? OK. How about TV? Why not? Even folks in dental offices and, sometimes, post offices were granted as much. It seemed cruel to think of them floating idly about, hour after hour, in their nutrient solutions without much to do.
Since it was well known, and had been known for a long time, that experience was a function of brain stimulation, it was soon realized that the precise source of the stimulation would be immaterial to the experience, qua experience, it being immaterial whether it was contingent on an outside environment or merely the result of technological contrivance, perhaps computer generated and controlled. Identical stimulations, however brought about, produced identical experiences.
Naturally it took time to work these things out. Many brains were at first disconcerted by glitches in the stimulation, as, for example, when doughnuts turned into freight cars, ocean liners docked at Omaha, and armadillos, not merely pigs, were noted flying. On the other hand, after a time, the software was so much improved that from the brain’s point of view it had no way of telling the simulacrum from the authentic article. The fellow monitoring the apparatus, of course, given his external perspective, was well aware of what was happening, but only if, as a fact, he himself was not merely another brain in another vat being stimulated to have the experiences of monitoring and stimulating another brain in a vat, and so on. Eventually, of course, the entire population might in theory have been brains in vats being maintained and stimulated by programmed machinery set up long ago to ease the burdens of technicians and supervisors. But there is no reason to entertain so bizarre a possibility. Too many of our experiences go counter to such a hypothesis, for example, our learning to speak from ostensive definitions, our interactions with an obviously real environment, our relationships with our parents, siblings, friends, and so on. What about the time I skinned my knee when I fell off the tricycle? What about the time Hiram bloodied my nose in the school yard, the time I won the spelling bee, and so on? And there was high school and college, and Mabel, to whom I am engaged. We should be married next August. There is only one thing that troubles me.
Yesterday I am sure I saw an armadillo. That is not much in itself, of course, particularly here in Texas, but something about it struck me as unusual.
It was flying.