* Here we see Dick’s impulse toward synthesis shift into hyperdrive; he assembles multiple systems of thought and references as if they can be seamlessly joined without contradiction. What we gain from such a loose assemblage is a vague sense that these multiple systems have something in common, but the details of exactly how they can be articulated together remain elusive. For example, Capra argues that the field model of quantum mechanics posits the field as the fundamental entity in reality, in which the appearance of particles can be understood as “knots” or places where the field intensifies and begins to manifest itself as particles rather than waves. Hence it posits reality as an underlying continuum. This is in direct opposition to the basic assumption of the computational model of the universe, which argues that the ultimate nature of reality is discrete, not continuous. It is difficult to see how we can reconcile the sharp contrast between these two fundamental premises, not to mention the many other contradictions and irresolvable conflicts that arise as the assemblage grows.—NKH
* Here Dick compares the binary forking model (derived from a computational model of the universe) to the “two slit” experiment that famously demonstrated that electrons can manifest as both waves and particles. When electrons are beamed at a single slit behind which sits a detector screen, they manifest as particles. However, when a second slit is added, interference waves appear. Depending on the experimental setup, then, electrons can appear as either waves or particles. Dick’s analogy is based on the indeterminacy that a binary forking model and the two-slit model both imply. Subatomic particles demonstrate an indeterminacy expressed by the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, in which the momentum and position cannot be co-specified with an accuracy greater than Planck’s constant. With the binary forking model, indeterminacy arises because of the complexity of interactions between multiple independent agents acting simultaneously, as in a cellular automata model. In the former case, the observer becomes implicated in the supposedly “objective” state of the particle because he chooses the experimental setup; in the latter case, it is not the presence of the observer that prevents accurate prediction but rather the complexity of the simultaneous interactions. The two cases have different epistemological consequences and lead to different kinds of questions about the nature of reality. Again, we see here a suggestive gesture that, if worked out in rigorous details, raises more issues than it solves.—NKH
* For all its eccentricity, the Exegesis is ultimately a rational exercise: Dick develops a hypothesis, applies its framework to his experience, and examines how well the theory fits the facts of his experience (or at least his current shaping of those facts). Dick was never a writer of hard science fiction, and his stories don’t generally adhere to a strict standard of scientific plausibility. But here he applies a loose variation on the scientific method to explain and rationalize his experiences. In this respect, the Exegesis shows more “scientific” influence than Dick’s science fiction.—GM
* Here Dick offers what is perhaps the most striking rationale for his theorizing: the ability to formulate and conceptualize an experience so that the affect associated with the experience can be captured and re-evoked by meditating on the theory. Without doubt, a theory that does this would have utility for the person who evolved it; the question then is whether it would have the same or similar effect on people who did not have the original experience. I doubt that it would work this way for most people reading Dick’s theories. By contrast, his fiction, with its rich contexts, suggestive characterizations, and haunting themes, clearly has this kind of power. His theorizing is important, then, not so much on its own account as for the insight it gives into his creative processes and the deep unconscious motivations that drive his fiction.—NKH
* I feel Dick struggling to reassure himself that God is at once more and less rational than Dick himself—whichever prospect seems less threatening at the moment. Dick spent many years and books trying to figure out God, his clearest and most vivid take (and, perversely, maybe most hopeful) up until the Exegesis probably being the utilitarian divine spray-can of Ubik. But for all of Dick’s apparent attempts to reconcile a good god and a bad world, his creation of an altogether more malevolent alternate world—in which there persists not only the Roman Empire but its manifestation in the form of Richard Nixon, and in which God is doomed to be even more hapless and ineffectually benign—raises questions as to whether Dick really is looking for reconciliation or to expose a God who at least has failed us all, if not actually betrayed us. Or is He, as we’ve suspected all along, just not fully in charge?—SE
* The assertion that Dick’s last three novels, in many (important) ways so divergent, should be read as a “trilogy” is annoying, to me anyway. As novels, they simply don’t add up that way (nor is Divine Invasion at the level of the other two), yet the term sticks; here, Dick shows unmistakable investment in it himself. On the one hand, keep in mind that in the wake of Star Wars and Tolkien, what publishers called “Sci-Fi” briefly enjoyed a weird boom that made best-sellers out of some of the long-suffering writers Dick could view as peers—Robert Silverberg, Philip Jose Farmer, Frank Herbert, and others—and that nearly all of their commercial hits were in the form of declared “trilogies” (even if some of those involved four or more books). Why not ride the unlikely gravy train? On the other hand, here was a mind more than a little prone to view things as interconnected. He’d begun to see his long shelf of earlier works forming a single tapestry of meaning. Shouldn’t these new ones braid together as well?—JL
* United Artists picked up an option for Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? in September 1973, netting Dick a check for $2,500. When it was announced that Ridley Scott would direct Harrison Ford in the $25 million movie, it was clear that Blade Runner, as it was to be titled, was designed to cash in on the success of Star Wars. Though Dick was skeptical of Hollywood, he was excited about the project, especially after seeing footage from the film. The movie’s backers wanted Dick to write a novelization of the film based on the screenplay, which differs markedly from his novel. Dick was promised a $50,000 advance as well as a large cut from all print tie-ins if he would rewrite the book to more closely resemble the movie. Though the deal might have earned Dick as much as $400,000, the contract also stipulated that the original version of his book be taken out of print. After much soul searching, Dick turned down the offer and instead accepted a $7,500 advance on the mainstream novel The Transmigration of Timothy Archer. Sadly, both The Transmigration of Timothy Archer and Blade Runner debuted after Dick’s death.—DG