Good Luck, Yukikaze
Page 49
There is a debate about whether planes should be manned or unmanned. On the one hand is the argument that the human element is wasteful and unnecessary in extreme situations. A manned fighter requires all sorts of limitations and equipment to preserve the life of the human, preventing the machine from achieving maximum performance. In terms of cost-effectiveness, it’s a disadvantage. For example, for the scientific investigation of space, it’s much more efficient to send out lots of unmanned space probes than to send one manned spacecraft. On the other hand, there’s the argument that, when things go wrong, there’s ultimately no substitute for human judgment. This is acknowledged as a realistic point of view, based on the current limitations of robots and computers. However, our current feeling that we can’t just leave things to machines is very likely born of a desire by humans (which is to say ourselves) to be involved with things. So, even assuming that artificial intelligence is developed to a very advanced level, this argument will most likely continue to be made. In this book, Rei Fukai argues that “humans are necessary in this war.” But it isn’t because human judgment is more correct than the machines, but because they can behave illogically in a way that the JAM can’t understand. Once the enemy JAM are able to understand them, the humans will be defeated. That’s because this war is essentially about information. Information, communication, interfaces. Those are the central themes of this story.
THE JAM MAY be what Philip K. Dick called androids, or simulacra. Although very similar, they are fundamentally alien. Humans and machine intelligences like Yukikaze are alien to each other, but there is the possibility of understanding and comprehension between them (though this may actually just be an illusion on the part of the humans. Still, Rei is able to trust Yukikaze). However, the JAM are unable to understand our hearts. If they took a Turing Test, they’d likely be disqualified at some point. That’s because the nature of their existence makes communication with them impossible. From their statement “I am that I am,” you get the feeling that they are hopelessly alien. Even if they are able to simulate humans, they are beings who have no way to comprehend them.
Stanislaw Lem’s The Invincible presents a battle with an alien enemy that humans are unable to communicate with. Yet Lem’s enemies are so alien that communication is unthinkable from the very start. In Chōhei Kambayashi’s work, as alien as these beings are, there still exists a type of interface between them. Namely, the interface of words. Machine intelligences like Yukikaze straddle the gap between the humans and the JAM, able to translate between them at some level (a level just short of mutual understanding, but not overly emphasizing the alienness of the JAM either). And in Kambayashi’s work, even as you realize you can’t understand the enemy just when you think you have a handle on them, there also exists a sense of humor. Even the characters aren’t flustered by the one-sided relationship with their opponents (though to be fair, you can’t call them normal people).
Despite being a story that deals with deep themes, presents characters lacking in humanity, and is written in sparse prose drained of emotion, when you read this book as entertainment, seeing these sorts of characters being able to deal with their world with a vague sense of humor is a major point. We’re able to empathize with them and with Yukikaze. Hurtling through the skies of planet Faery, reading Yukikaze’s thoughts as a brief string of characters on the cockpit display, we can feel the tension of the fierce battle she fights. It is the act of communication we call “reading.”
As I write this sentence now, a real war is going on in a different reality separated from our day-to-day life. It is accompanied by a feeling of unreality, like the war on the planet Faery. We can’t treat the terrorists of reality like the JAM. However, looking at the root of this war as a failure of communication, I can’t help but think about the relationship between it and this book. Though Rei Fukai would likely look at this war between his fellow humans and simply say, “Not my problem.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chōhei Kambayashi was born in 1953. In 1979 he won the 5th Hayakawa SF Contest with his debut work, Kitsune to Odore (Dance with a Fox), and followed that with his first long series, Anata no Tamashii ni Yasuragiare (May Peace Be on Your Soul). His distinctive style and approach, and his thematic focus on the power of language and humanity’s relationship with machines, quickly made him a fan favorite. His numerous long and short series have won him the prestigious Seiun Award four times, and in 1999 he won the 16th Japan SF award.