Isolde
Defender of Grammar
By C. L. Moore
No Woman Born begins with an homage to a lovely actress named Deidre who died in a theater fire. One wonders whether firefighting techniques have not kept pace with the rest of the technology that the reader is bound to encounter. No sprinkler systems? No dormant robot firefighters awaiting their ‘call’? But perhaps the theater owner bribed city officials to circumvent building code regulations. The reader can only wonder. But on with the story.
The beautiful Deidre has been immortalized in gold metal. Her brain was rescued from the fire and encased in a robotic body. Think Dalek, but more sophisticated. Moore offers a stunning description of Deidre, and indeed, descriptive narrative seems to be Moore’s strength. “She had…a very beautifully shaped head—a bare, golden skull. She turned it a little, gracefully upon her neck of metal, and he saw that the artist who shaped it had given her the most delicate suggestion of cheekbones, narrowing in the blankness below the mask to the hint of a human face. Not too much. Just enough so that when the head turned you saw by its modeling that it had moved, lending perspective and foreshortening to the expressionless golden helmet.”
Harris, her former manager, and Maltzer, her roboticist, display levels of angst over her condition the likes of which haven’t been seen since an acne outbreak on prom night. Harris arranges a performance for Deidre, which will be her first public appearance since her transformation. Moore “To and fro over the velvet carpet, against the velvet background, she wove the intricacies of her serpentine dance, leisurely and yet with such hypnotic effect that the air seemed full of looping rhythms, as if her long, tapering limbs had left their own replicas hanging upon the air and fading only slowly as she moved away.” Beautiful. Moore describes the performance in vivid detail.
The performance is a roaring success, which would hopefully allay the fears of Maltzer. But no. He senses unhappiness in her. He still fears that her fans will turn against her once the novelty wears off, and that her loss of perception that kept her in touch with humanity (smell, taste, and touch) would turn her into a mere mind animating a metal body. He fears her humanness will fade.
Deidre answers. “‘I’m human. Do you think I’m not?’…And then suddenly, almost overwhelmingly, the warmth and the old ardent charm were radiant all around her. She was robot no longer, enigmatic no loner. Harris could see as clearly as in their first meeting the remembered flesh still gracious and beautiful as her voice evoked his memory.”
Are Harris and Maltzer convinced? Not quite. Maltzer presses his point. “‘but Deirdre, if we did succeed—what’s wrong? I can feel it now—I’ve felt it all along. You’re so unhappy—you still are. Why, Deidre?’”
And she finally admits why. “‘I’m afraid. It isn’t unhappiness, Maltzer—it’s fear. I don’t want to draw so far away from the human race. I wish I needn’t. That’s why I’m going back on the stage—to keep in touch with them while I can. But I wish there could be others like me. I’m…I’m lonely, Maltzer.”
And in the end, we read of a taint of metal tingeing her voice. Maltzer was right. But we also read of Deidre’s willingness to carry on in her present form. There’s so much to learn, so many ‘possibilities untested.’ And therein lies the hope. The pioneering human spirit, even encased in a mass of metal, will out.
Has anyone else read this?
No Woman Born begins with an homage to a lovely actress named Deidre who died in a theater fire. One wonders whether firefighting techniques have not kept pace with the rest of the technology that the reader is bound to encounter. No sprinkler systems? No dormant robot firefighters awaiting their ‘call’? But perhaps the theater owner bribed city officials to circumvent building code regulations. The reader can only wonder. But on with the story.
The beautiful Deidre has been immortalized in gold metal. Her brain was rescued from the fire and encased in a robotic body. Think Dalek, but more sophisticated. Moore offers a stunning description of Deidre, and indeed, descriptive narrative seems to be Moore’s strength. “She had…a very beautifully shaped head—a bare, golden skull. She turned it a little, gracefully upon her neck of metal, and he saw that the artist who shaped it had given her the most delicate suggestion of cheekbones, narrowing in the blankness below the mask to the hint of a human face. Not too much. Just enough so that when the head turned you saw by its modeling that it had moved, lending perspective and foreshortening to the expressionless golden helmet.”
Harris, her former manager, and Maltzer, her roboticist, display levels of angst over her condition the likes of which haven’t been seen since an acne outbreak on prom night. Harris arranges a performance for Deidre, which will be her first public appearance since her transformation. Moore “To and fro over the velvet carpet, against the velvet background, she wove the intricacies of her serpentine dance, leisurely and yet with such hypnotic effect that the air seemed full of looping rhythms, as if her long, tapering limbs had left their own replicas hanging upon the air and fading only slowly as she moved away.” Beautiful. Moore describes the performance in vivid detail.
The performance is a roaring success, which would hopefully allay the fears of Maltzer. But no. He senses unhappiness in her. He still fears that her fans will turn against her once the novelty wears off, and that her loss of perception that kept her in touch with humanity (smell, taste, and touch) would turn her into a mere mind animating a metal body. He fears her humanness will fade.
Deidre answers. “‘I’m human. Do you think I’m not?’…And then suddenly, almost overwhelmingly, the warmth and the old ardent charm were radiant all around her. She was robot no longer, enigmatic no loner. Harris could see as clearly as in their first meeting the remembered flesh still gracious and beautiful as her voice evoked his memory.”
Are Harris and Maltzer convinced? Not quite. Maltzer presses his point. “‘but Deirdre, if we did succeed—what’s wrong? I can feel it now—I’ve felt it all along. You’re so unhappy—you still are. Why, Deidre?’”
And she finally admits why. “‘I’m afraid. It isn’t unhappiness, Maltzer—it’s fear. I don’t want to draw so far away from the human race. I wish I needn’t. That’s why I’m going back on the stage—to keep in touch with them while I can. But I wish there could be others like me. I’m…I’m lonely, Maltzer.”
And in the end, we read of a taint of metal tingeing her voice. Maltzer was right. But we also read of Deidre’s willingness to carry on in her present form. There’s so much to learn, so many ‘possibilities untested.’ And therein lies the hope. The pioneering human spirit, even encased in a mass of metal, will out.
Has anyone else read this?
