Bladerunner

What are they talking about down there?

I think the philosophers are testing your colleagues. To find out whether they’re synths.

Synths?

Like, androids.

So you think we’re robots, or whatever?

Synths aren’t robots. They’re made out of biological tissue, which means no circuits or wiring. The crucial thing is that they’re lab-grown, like, not born from a woman. Did you ever see Blade Runner?

Once, maybe …

Blade Runner’s fully of synths. Who look just like us, except that they have no emotions.

I have emotions.

You think you have emotions. Maybe they’re simulated emotions.

Weren’t the synths evil, or something? I remember Harrison Ford trying to shoot them …

Harrison Ford killed replicants who had developed the ability to question. To philosophise, even. Synths who could ask, why? Because that meant that they couldn’t be controlled anymore. That they couldn’t just be used for slave labour or as prostitutes.

So how can you tell whether someone is a synth?

There are questions you can ask.

Go on – test me.

Okay. Now and then you contemplate life alone. It is… a) Independent, b) Inconceivable, c) Insulting, d) Intriguing.

Intriguing: that’s what I’m not supposed to say. But really, it is.

That’s not a great sign of your relationship.

Does it make me a synth?

Not sure yet. Another question: You see a friend who has suffered bereavement. Afterwards you feel … a) Annoyed at their lack of engagement, b) Powerless to help, c) Saddened or d) Bored. 

D) Bored … ever so bored. Infinitely bored. I know I’m not supposed to say that, either. But I am bored, philosopher. I get very bored. How am I doing so far?

Some open-ended questions. Ready? What do you love most of all?

Adventure, perhaps. Romance, maybe …

Your poor husband.

I told you – I’m trouble.

What is the privilege of the dead?

That’s poetry, not a question. Really: how am I supposed to answer that?

And then: you’re keeping quiet. Okay, I’ll you something. I’ll confess. I feel dead. I feel dead, dead, dead. Like I died a long time ago. And I don’t think it’s a privilege. Is that what a synth’s supposed to say?

How close and warm is your family?

Fine. My family’s fine. My parents are fine. I get on with them fine. But I’m DEAD, philosopher. I’m D.E.A.D. dead.

Does your husband know you’re dead?

I’ve tried to tell him. I’ve – tried – to – tell – him. But he didn’t understand. And he’s not my husband, you know. Not technically. We never actually got married. Do you believe in marriage, philosopher?

Sure I do.

Sure you do. What do you know about marriage? What do you know about relation … ships?

Do you feel your childhood was happier than most people’s?

What is this – therapy? I told you I’m dead. That’s the truest thing I’ve said. The most philosophical thing, maybe. Do philosophers think that they’re dead?

To philosophise is to learn how to die.

Then I could teach philosophy. I could teach philosophers. I’m an expert on the topic.

When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?

My husband’s very keen on karaoke, so I might be singing quite soon … Or I might scream instead. I might just scream. I could scream and scream and scream. Do dead people scream? So am I synth or not, philosopher? Or am I just M.A.D.?

How do we know that we’re not duped?

About what?

About everything.

Everything … perhaps we are. I don't know … Harrison Ford fell in love with a synth – I remember that.

She had the same name as you: Rachael – with an ‘a’. She was a more advanced model than the others. Turns out she could get pregnant, too. That’s what the sequel is about. Have you seen it?

No.

Spoiler alert: she has a child.

A synth child?

A half synth child. Who will save the universe, or something.

Does the universe need saving?

I think we need saving.

Is that what your philosophy is about? You do have your own philosophy, don’t you? You can tell me about it on our tour. I’m going to show you around.