Altered Carbon
Takeshi Kovacs, a blend of Japanese high tech and post-communist Eastern European rubble, is probably the best name in cyberpunk history and Altered Carbon is a splendor of cyberpunk aesthetics. The series has it all: high tech, low life, outdated ad visuals, techno-hallucinogens, synthwave graphics, and the glorious decadence of an overpopulated, technologically sophisticated city of the future where socio-economic gaps are so wide that they reach the sky. The ground belongs to the poor while the rich live in excessive luxury on top of towers that reach above the clouds.
Altered Carbon brings a plot with complex ramifications centered around the theme of mind uploading technology in cortical stacks. The series, adapted from the novel by Richard K. Morgan with the same title published in 2002, targets numerous of the resulting ethical concerns without exploring any of them in detail. Altered Carbon deals with human enhancement, human cloning, reality probing, benevolent and malicious A.I., and pokes at concepts of the soul, memory, history, faith, family, the future and recollection of the past, unrestricted violence in the absence of the state, and humanity’s desire to conquer life and confirm its god-like status. Even the creature of Frankenstein is tossed in as “the Patchwork Man.” In this sense, Netflix’s Altered Carbon is a tour of things cyberpunk and, in doing so, it resurrects the literary ‘movement.’
Human bodies are now called sleeves, expensive products that come with upgrades for the right price. Laurens Bancroft, a centuries old wealthy individual with little excitement in his life, contracts Takeshi Kovacs to solve the mystery of his own murder. Morgan develops extensively around this plot. Perhaps a bit too much. For example, the story starts 250 years before current
events during the war between the rebel group known as Envoys and the U.N. Protectorate. Takeshi Kovacs, our typical cyberpunk protagonist, is separated from his sister, Raileen, and becomes a member of an elite team of U.N. special forces. During a raid on a Yakuza stronghold, Takeshi is reunited with his sister. They fight their way out to be later recruited by the Envoys whose leader, Quellcrist Falconer, invented the stacks but now fights for mortality.
Irrelevant characters are introduced along the way to serve as cannon fodder. Some subplots, moreover, remain undeveloped; for example, for quite a few episodes, mercenaries hunt the protagonist. After enough people have died, we discover the reason lies with the current sleeve of Takeshi Kovacs which belonged to a detective who investigated the corruption emanating from above the clouds, and who also happens to have been Kristin Ortega’s former lover. Ortega, always tense and ready to punch, is a competent detective and gradually becomes Takeshi’s aid and lover. She is an example of loyalty and sense of duty when rewards are unavailable. The world is a mess a she puts it back in place, in her own way.
The general audience may find this salad of cyberpunk tropes and plots quite exhausting. I doubt that the average viewer made it past the second episode. However, for the inquisitive SF nerd and speculative philosopher, Altered Carbon offers a wonderful excuse to play around with “what if”. Morgan has a blast delivering numerous thought experiments for cyberpunks to consume while the directors, editors, and writers of the series do a brilliant job to ensure that patience pays off in the end. The conclusion of the series beautifully weaves in together the fragmented story line to solve the murder mystery and give hope for the future. Netflix intends to release a new season probably based on the second novel, Broken Angels, in the Takeshi Kovacs trilogy.
“What if” consciousness transfer technology was would be possible. In this case, Altered Carbon portrays a world that has lost the ability to value life. It is people that populate the dark alleys of the city instead of the usual street dogs. In fact, to my recollection, the only pet present in the series is a snake who hosts the mind of a human, an illegal project for the amusement of the rich. “In this world,” Laurens Bancroft tells Takeshi, “the only choice is between being a purchaser and a purchased.”
Beneath this messed up world of neon glow cities and virtual interrogation technologies, lies the pulsing need for clear purpose, love, and real death. Takeshi Kovacs is an empty sleeve. Tak, as his soon-to-be-murdered friends call him, is aimless just like the society around him, but moves forward due to love for Quellcrist. When the Envoys revolt against eternal life, his love for Quell is enough motivation to join the fight. Takeshi’s sister, Raileen, on the other hand, does not subscribe to the cause and sees no reason to abandon immortality. She pursues an unhealthy idea of family unity caused by childhood trauma and separation from her brother. Raileen is willing to do anything to keep Takeshi by her side.
Love in Altered Carbon bonds, breaks, destroys, and nurtures. The viewer is left alone to identify real love beyond superficial barriers of skin color, gender, and even time. Love, then, in its powerful, most abstract manifestations makes sense in this dystopia. Altered Carbon shows a healthy pursuit of family unity through a couple willing to risk everything to retrieve their daughter Lizzie who is stuck in a virtual “trauma loop”. As the story unfolds, a benevolent A.I. named Poe with love of humanity and fondness for Victorian attire patiently helps Lizzie back on her feet and trains her in various combat techniques. She becomes particularly good with knives and saves the day Matrix-style when circumstances require.
Poe reminds us of Asimov’s optimism for the future of intelligent machines. In Asimov’s stories, humans usually fail to understand the potential for good in robots and project onto them their own violent expectations. On a similar note, in Altered Carbon the A.I. is helpful, neutral, and sacrifices itself for his human friends. Therefore, our usual expectations of robots taking over the world may be a projection of our own violent tendencies. And when the viewer has experienced enough violence and disregard for human life to lose hope for humanity, Poe, the lovable A.I., restores it.
For 250 years, Raileen has built an empire. She has successfully monetized the deranged sexual impulses and violent desires of the class of pretender ‘gods’ living above the clouds. Turns out real death is highly profitable if the rich can murder at will in a discreet location she has set up for them known as “Head Above the Clouds”. There, people can play ‘god’ for the right price. “Mr. Kovacs, haven’t you heard?” Laurens Bancroft asked Takeshi at some point, “God is dead, and we have taken His place.”
Laurens Bancroft, however, is a bored ‘god’. Murder is a line he will not cross. Bancroft thinks he is principled, after all he replaces the sleeves he mistakenly kills during his sexual escapades. But “the danger of living too many times is to forget to fear death.” The “Grim Reaper” becomes “and antiquated metaphor.” And when he commits murder, he is unable to accept that temptation, given enough time, will become impossible to ignore. Bancroft’s solution is to make the memory of the act disappear by killing himself minutes before his consciousness is autosaved. When the murder mystery is revealed to Bancroft, Takeshi finally responds: “You started playing God and ended up like the devil himself.”
Altered Carbon is an excellent series for cyberpunk initiates and for patient detective fiction fans. It is also a good introduction for anyone willing to peak into the aesthetically pleasing dystopian worlds of a literary project that defined cyberspace and imagined the effects of digital technology before mixed reality was a common experience.
This review was published in SFRA Review, 327, Winter 2019
