Radio Free Albemuth- Interview with John Alan Simon Part 1

rfaposterPart One of my interview with John Alan Simon, writer/director/producer of Radio Free Albemuth, is now live on Word of the Nerd: http://www.wordofthenerdonline.com/radio-free-albemuth-interview-with-john-alan-simon-part-1/

The movie is based on the novel by Philip K Dick, and premieres in theaters today! Check http://radiofreealbemuth.com for showtimes and locations and all other details!

 

Word of the Nerd: Radio Free Albemuth – June 27th

RFA-fromthemindI have a new article this morning on The Word Of The Nerd Online. Radio Free Albemuth, the lastest Philip K. Dick film adaptation, is set to hit theaters June 27th. Discovery Films has released a new extended trailer which gives a pretty decent glimpse at the movie. I’m really looking forward to this one. It could be the one that finally gets PKD right.

The film’s writer, producer and director, John Alan Simon, was kind enough to sit down and chat with me. We talk about the film, his approach to writing, and all points in between. It was a great conversation and only bolstered my excitement for the film. Look for the interview soon. It will be coming to The Word Of The Nerd Online as we get a little closer to go time.

http://www.wordofthenerdonline.com/radio-free-alb…27-new-trailer/

 

 

A Book PKD Could Have Written.

I am not sure how I missed this one for so long. I never expected this, but anyone who knows me knows how much it means to me. Click over to Tessa B. Dick‘s site, read the quote and follow the link to her full review. I am astonished and ecstatic by her continuing support of my work. I have no words.
http://tessadick.blogspot.com/2014/02/a-book-that-philip-k-dick-could-have.html

If you are convinced already, head directly to the Little Shop and get your copy of Meowing on the Answering Machine today!

Does an Android Phone in ‘sleep mode’ Daydream of Electric Sheep?

This is a two-part post, broken into an appetizer and main course.

lost-in-transit-the-strange-story-of-the-philip-k-dick-android-the-strange-story-of-the-philip-k-dick-android-copyTHE APPETIZER:

In coming up with a title for this post, I was surfing around the internet to see what sort of connections I could make. It’s a play on the title of the Philip K. Dick novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

I love a good title parody, and the Android phone was just too irresistible. So I dug around a little and the Android phone has a ‘Daydream’ mode, which offers screen-savers they call ‘Electric Sheep.’ This tickled me. Like the translation website named ‘Babelfish‘ after the odd creature in Douglas Adams’ Hitchhikers books. Nice to see PKD getting a little more recognition, and a little tip of the hat from the makers of the Android.

further reading: http://electricsheep.org/node/3746

MAIN COURSE.

My reverence and admiration for the writing of Philip K Dick is no secret to anyone who knows me or has read two of my blog posts. He was writing about androids and artificial intelligence as far back as the 1950s, and many in the robotics field cite him as an influence and catalyst for the industry.

In 2005, an android was built in Dick’s likeness. It was intended to showcase the advances that have been made in cybernetics and artificial intelligence. A giant digital brain was installed on a very realistic looking head, and the machine was programmed to emulate the personality of the famed science fiction writer.

Presentations were made, the robot became pretty well-traveled as it was carted around the country to appear at events and to assist in the publicity of some of the films being adapted from Dick’s books.

And then, it disappeared.

I believe it was last seen when it was being shipped across the country for some affair, and the android was lost in transit. Never to be seen again.

I had an idea for a short story that followed the Android Dick after it (not he) went missing, I have a little tale brewing that will pop out of me when it is done, and some of the particulars are making me giddy.

Before I proceed I want to point out my intent in asking the question. I’ve asked this question in some of my writing groups, and I have been misunderstood. This is a philosophical question.  

I am not asking for anyone’s permission or approval, this is purely an abstract mental exercise, a fascinating murky area of ethics and intellectual property law. If I were to proceed with this story, I would seek the blessing from the family and Hanson Robotics, who assembled the android.

I am not asking anyone for a solid answer, I am only asking you to think.

I know if I were writing about a public figure, if I made them the main character of my book, I would have to get permission from the author or the estate to use the likeness, or I could risk a defamation lawsuit.

But what if I were writing about the android?

It is not human, it is not even alive, really, by any current definition of the word. So on the surface, no, it doesn’t have the same rights and protections that the human being would. On the other hand, this particular simulacrum was constructed and programmed in the likeness of a real human being.

So, say I put something terrible in the story, turned the robot into a monster and have him commit some terrible acts. Who would sue me for slander? The author’s estate? Or the folks who built the android? Does a replicant fashioned after an actual person have the same rights to privacy as the person it was fashioned after?

I don’t have an answer, I don’t expect anyone to provide anything solid. I don’t think this is something we have yet covered in intellectual property law, but I find it a fascinating subject to ponder. And I think it is something we will eventually have to address as artificial intelligence grows more ‘human,’ and the shells they are put into become less distinguishable from actual flesh.

What rights does Watson have?  The computerized Jeopardy Champion. Could it (again, not he, I had to change it myself this time) bring a case against someone who it felt had tarnished its name.

Can an android, an artificial intelligence, or the company that built and owns it,  sue someone for defamation, for spreading rumors and misrepresenting its likeness? Or would it be the author’s estate? Could they bring action against me for slandering the android, and by extension slandering the human that this machine was constructed to mimic?

It’s a fascinating thought to me, I don’t have any solid answers. The questions, on the other hand, keep multiplying and expanding in my head.

further reading…

VIDEO: The Philip K. Dick Android:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJ930zzYxl8

Robot Goes Missing:
http://www.smh.com.au/news/world/author-android…

©M²XIV/REM

Horselover Fat rides again…

pkdSaturday, 29 November 2003
Topic: from the soapbox

So, I was in a car accident last Sunday. I remember it was just starting to snow, that kinda half-snow, half-rain that makes the roads such a joy to drive on. Besides that and the fact that I was probably going too fast in the first place, I came to a red light and hit my brakes. Nothing, The car kept moving ahead, and hydroplaned right into the car in front of me. The fact that I saw it coming and stiffened up in anticipation, instead of letting by body go slack, that probably made it worse, but that’s another story for another time…

I can’t work or drive for now, doctors orders. I have bumps and bruises all over, and a bandage over my eye. Apparently I hit my head on the steering wheel. It took twelve stitches to close me up, and they told me I am lucky I didn’t lose my right eye.

So I decided I would take this time to catch up on some reading, and to get some writing done. I found an old battered copy of “Valis” by Philip K. Dick, who is, and anyone who knows me knows this, my literary hero. A mentor of sorts, a lot of my writing, not just stylistically but idealistically, has been inspired by him. I have read everything I could get my hands on written by Dick, back even before a lot of it was put back into print.

“Valis” deals with a lot of metaphysical themes, a lot of which are based on ideas that were only unearthed recently in the caves of Qumran and in the manuscripts found at Nag Hammadi. These ‘lost’ religious articles, suddenly appearing after sleeping in the desert for two thousand years, have always intrigued me.

One thing about having all this time off work, is I have way too much time to think. Not just about the life of a mad genius sci-fi philosopher who died poor and unrecognized, and would not garner any real fame or respect until twenty years past his death. Not about the strange coincidence that I have been interested in the Dead Sea Scrolls since I first heard of them, and just happen to pick up this book where my favorite author of all times is talking at length about them. And what exactly does that mean, what does that imply if anything? That these two fascinations of mine would merge here together as I lay bed-ridden and broken. Coincidence? Synchronicity? Fate? Quantum Holistics?

Or is it merely that my mind being as it is, is attracted to the writing of Phil Dick, and as such is also attracted to the long buried manuscripts of an ancient secret society. Not necessarily an eerie similarity, but a matter of “well, naturally I like his writing, because he is interested in the same, weird, whacked out things that I am”.

When my mind isn’t playing this metaphysical game of chicken and the egg, it is trying to weigh me down, drag me into depression, based on the accident and the consequences there-of.

I nearly lost my eye, half my head is covered in bandage, the area just below my eyebrow has been repaired with stitches, it is black and ugly like a caterpillar resting on my eyelid. “Right Peri-orbital Laceration” is what they call it. My face is no longer symmetrical. The right side of my face is swollen, puffy and a sickly bruised yellow in color. Half of my head is sore and in almost constant pain, the other half is still numb- completely without feeling, like Novocaine has been shot into my skull. The pain or the numbness, I’m not sure which is scarier.

My shoulders are sore to move, my knees are wounded and scraped. I have random bumps and cuts about my body. My sides hurt when I laugh or bend the wrong way- ribs or internal organs or just superficial bruises? Its a lot to think about when you have nothing but time to sit and think. No wonder I’ve been trying to occupy my mind with such heavy subjects as the Gnostic Gospels.

Never mind the fact that my car is gone. And I don’t know when they will let me drive again anyway. Transportation, work, money- they are all trivial things in the light of health- but they are issues which weigh on me late at night when sleep will not come.

Why did this have to happen? Why now? Just when things were beginning to fall into place. A job I could bare to go to everyday, a nice little routine I was falling into where I would be content. There were some things to look forward to, a book I was planning on publishing once the funds were there. A girl I wanted to fall in love with once the time was right.

And then suddenly, in literally an instant, it was all turned upside down. Everything seems to be up in the air at this time. One step forward then two staggering steps back. And the work it will take to get back to where I was has just seemed so overwhelming. I can do it I know, but in my darker moments I wonder if I should bother, whats the point?

And once the darkness of depression splinters into my brain, it clouds over all else and turns it to black. All hope, all dreams, black. And the lingering question of “Why?”

So last night I was searching around the Internet for information of the Nag Hammadi texts, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and the Gnostic Gospels. I found a few good sites and read as much as I could before the weary gloom would creep its way into my thoughts.

I tried a different search then, on Philip K Dick. I have read most of his work, but don’t know that much about him; only what they put at the end of the books in the About the Author Section, and from the seemingly form-lettered publicity profile: Born in Chicago, lived in California, wrote 110 short stories and 36 novels, ate dog food in the grips of poverty, was addicted to amphetamines to keep his prolific writing pace, was married and divorced 5 times and died of heart failure in 1982. I was hoping some web site out there could help me glean a little closer into the actual man behind these words.

I found one site, where they had clips of Dick actually speaking. Actually speaking. In the fifteen years I have been reading his work, I had never heard his voice before. I listened to the first clip; an hour long tape Dick had recorded as a synopses for a novel he was working on, he recorded it on tape rather than type it because of a broken arm at the time.

His voice came through my stereo, a kind voice but obviously roughened by cigarettes and booze, and that slur that only comes from years off drug abuse, the “acid accent” I call it- and the fact that his words would sometimes meld together as he spoke a mile a minute trying to keep pace with his racing mind.

Once I adjusted my brain to hear his odd way of speaking, I lay in bed and felt like he was there in the room, telling this idea he had for his next book directly to me, in confidence. Bouncing the idea off me in private discourse.
The next clip was an hour long interview. By interview it meant that the host of the radio show would ask a simple question, and Dick would veer off on several tangents and cover as many and as few topics as he cared to before he would allow another question.

Somewhere in the middle of a rant, Philip K Dick somehow came upon the subject of God, this didn’t phase me all that much. It was obvious that the Great Beyond was a matter of deep thought for him and for me as well. I sat an listened as his low-flying form of conversation strafed over many religious, spiritual and metaphysical hot-points. Touching for a second, a moment of lucid, profound thought swirling out of a tornado of jumbled words and thoughts, and moving on quickly to the next target.

He got on the subject of Gods Will and his Ways. The mysterious ways in which he works. How he makes things come to be.

Sometimes, he was saying, (I am paraphrasing here) God has to take measures to bring people to their destiny. People get stuck in routines and will stay in those routines unless physically removed. So God will take action to put people where they need to be, to meet people they need to meet. And he will do this by the simplest means possible.

Such means as, say, a car accident. ( My brain nearly jumped out of my head at hearing this.) Sometimes the easiest way for God to put you where you need to be is in such a tragedy. You wonder, why did this happen to me? It messed up all my plans. Only in retrospect do you realize, if I hadn’t been in that car crash, I would never have met so-and-so. That car crash was the best thing that ever happened to me, and such and such. Fate comes, he closed the topic, like a firecracker being dropped down the back of your pants by invisible hands. You are walking along minding your own business, and then BANG!!!

Well, hearing this, the talk of a fateful car accident, coming from a twenty-five year old tape of an interview with my literary mentor, it shook some things up in my head. Maybe the lack of real sleep, the pain medication and the long hours of solitary thought contributed to the significance it had taken. But it seemed to bring about some answers in me, and at the same time it also asked a whole new round of questions. Neither can be fully explained here.

The answers deal with fate and with life in general and the random curves it seems to throw at us sometimes. The questions tend to wonder about the same, and about the seemingly innocent paths we choose which invariably lead us to where we were bound to wind up anyway, and the harder we think we are fighting against our destiny, the more we are only hastening it; about random decisions and utterly meaningless moments that only make sense when we look back upon them; about time and space and synchronicity, and how a genius mad man returned twenty years after his death to tell me that all would be okay.