Procreative redemption
May. 12th, 2004 12:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pyesetzWhen I was a youngster, I would occasionally meet people who couldn't quite figure out *what* I was, but they were certain it wasn't human. "A walking encyclopedia of solutions looking for problems to solve" was one of the nicer comments, although the image of a book with legs, eyes, and a mouth wasn't very handsome.
Computer terminals used to offer "type-ahead". If you typed something when the computer was busy, it would remember your keystrokes invisibly, then display them when it was ready for input. Sometimes I would type 100 keystrokes, including perhaps 20 uses of the DELETE key and ending with ENTER to commit the text I hadn't seen yet. When the computer got around to displaying what I had typed, and it was all correct, I thought that was pretty good. But a coworker told me that it was inhuman. No person could do what I did, so I must be a robot or an alien or something, but not human.
Kids I had never met before would point to me and say, "It's Mr. Spock!", although my skin is not green and my ears are not pointy and I do not raise only one eyebrow. To the best of my knowledge, I have no ancestors from the planet Krypton or Vulcan or anything like that. I come from 100% Terran stock.
Several times I walked by people I did not know, who looked at me and started humming the same song with a repetitive cadence, as if they could not watch me moving along without thinking of that robotic beat. As far as I know, my body design is 100% organic and contains no cyborg elements.
I felt a little more human after I got married. There's something about that official ceremony that sets off a cascade of brain hormones to make the relationship with one's mate more real.
But nothing compares to that first offspring. I impregnated a woman! The result was not some monster fetus that died instantly due to genetic incompatibility. It looked quite normal on ultrasound. The doctors asked if I wanted a boy or a girl. I said, "human". They thought I was joking; perhaps I was. At birth, my baby girl looked like a cross between me and her mother. I can make a human baby! That proves I'm human, and no one can take that away from me.
I can now comfortably wade into the Furry Fandom and pontificate about the nature of the animal soul. Now it is easy for me to deflect the taunts from trolls who cannot figure out what it means to me to play a dog character on the Internet--their snarls cannot hurt me, because I'm a daddy; I'm a more complete human than they are.
My son turned 6 recently. I didn't get him the fishing pole. He doesn't seem to mind too much. He likes his new Shrek 2 computer game.
Computer terminals used to offer "type-ahead". If you typed something when the computer was busy, it would remember your keystrokes invisibly, then display them when it was ready for input. Sometimes I would type 100 keystrokes, including perhaps 20 uses of the DELETE key and ending with ENTER to commit the text I hadn't seen yet. When the computer got around to displaying what I had typed, and it was all correct, I thought that was pretty good. But a coworker told me that it was inhuman. No person could do what I did, so I must be a robot or an alien or something, but not human.
Kids I had never met before would point to me and say, "It's Mr. Spock!", although my skin is not green and my ears are not pointy and I do not raise only one eyebrow. To the best of my knowledge, I have no ancestors from the planet Krypton or Vulcan or anything like that. I come from 100% Terran stock.
Several times I walked by people I did not know, who looked at me and started humming the same song with a repetitive cadence, as if they could not watch me moving along without thinking of that robotic beat. As far as I know, my body design is 100% organic and contains no cyborg elements.
I felt a little more human after I got married. There's something about that official ceremony that sets off a cascade of brain hormones to make the relationship with one's mate more real.
But nothing compares to that first offspring. I impregnated a woman! The result was not some monster fetus that died instantly due to genetic incompatibility. It looked quite normal on ultrasound. The doctors asked if I wanted a boy or a girl. I said, "human". They thought I was joking; perhaps I was. At birth, my baby girl looked like a cross between me and her mother. I can make a human baby! That proves I'm human, and no one can take that away from me.
I can now comfortably wade into the Furry Fandom and pontificate about the nature of the animal soul. Now it is easy for me to deflect the taunts from trolls who cannot figure out what it means to me to play a dog character on the Internet--their snarls cannot hurt me, because I'm a daddy; I'm a more complete human than they are.
My son turned 6 recently. I didn't get him the fishing pole. He doesn't seem to mind too much. He likes his new Shrek 2 computer game.
no subject
Date: 2004-05-13 11:51 am (UTC)>that official ceremony... brain hormones
Is it the official ceremony or all the sex that happens on the typical honeymoon? Or perhaps it's pheromone overload from being in close quarters with the same member of the opposite sex for extended periods?
Evidence suggests that it's not all the sex and it's not the close quarters. A couple can cohabitate for years, saying and believing "we're not really married" while sharing a bed, finances, etc. Then, when they decide to have an official ceremony, suddenly something changes.
I think sex, marriage, and reproduction all have this feature: you get older not when you engage in some specific act or other, but when you believe that these things have happened. The "husband" circuit in your brain does not activate until you believe that you are "really married" according to the traditions of your society. You become a father not when the baby is born, or when you first hold it, but when you start to believe it is yours. The hindbrain is connected to the belief system.
>I'm a daddy; I'm a more complete human than they are.
A statement sure to raise the hackles of child-free folk everywhere.
Yep. I like to raise hackles. There is a "troll" aspect to my personality. But I don't like making people feel bad.