I chose to highlight Masato Hirakata’s post because of all the people who sought to describe the paradigm of owning an animal in this society, his response was the best. Through the use of a scene defining quote and context clues, Masato’s post gives great insight into why Decker felt the need to own an animal, and the difference between genuine and machine, even if no one could actually easily tell the difference.
Quote: “To say, “Is your sheep genuine?” would be a worse breach of manners than to inquire whether a citizen’s teeth, hair, or internal organs would test out authentic” (7).
In this sentence, we as readers are presented with this society’s expectation that every family and household should be owning an animal, almost in the same fashion that the “American Dream” might have once been described with white picket fences and a family dog. If one does not own an animal, they are in violation of “Mercerism,” and to avoid this, Decker owns an electric sheep. The electric sheep, as a facsimile of an actual sheep, is an embarrassment and a negative mark unto Decker’s social status. On the other hand, Barbour, Decker’s neighbor, allegedly owns an organic horse, and has had it impregnated. The Percheron horse, however, pales in comparison to the Moscovy duck owned by a Fred Washborne, and has an article accorded to it in a publication declaring the duck the “heaviest, largest Moscovy on the West Coast” (9). Barbour even offers Decker his condolences upon learning that Decker’s sheep is electric. “You poor guy. Has it always been this way,” (11) says Barbour. The mention of a World War Terminus, shortened to “W.W.T.” by Decker and Barbour, paints a damning picture. The earth has been forever changed by the cataclysmic event that was World War Terminus, requiring the usage of special codpieces to protect Decker’s reproductive organs. People own electric animals to pretend they own real animals, and questioning the authenticity of an animal is now an insult. The possession of an animal is now so thoroughly ingrained into the societal norms of this world that questioning it is taboo, akin to asking now if someone’s hair is a wig or if they are pregnant, and not just putting on weight. Through Decker’s frustration and dreams of buying a cow or a horse, instead of a cricket or a cat, we see that animals have now become a status symbol, in the manner that makes them commonplace and expected.
It is through this exploration of a society’s norms that we can begin to understand better the dynamic between technology and the humans that inhabit the world of this novel. Ultimately, Decker’s electric sheep and other electric animals like it call into question what it means to be real, to have value, and to be valued. Just like a regular sheep, Decker’s electric sheep requires checkups, and to be cared for, so as to keep being “alive,” despite the fact that it is not. Facilities that repair these electric animals are even called hospitals, like the Van Ness Pet Hospital that John Isidore works for. The line between “real” and “unreal,” “authentic” and “inauthentic,” blurs, and “genuine” starts to lose meaning. Decker, when revealing his sheep’s inauthenticity to Barbour, remarks: “the fleece at least was genuine” (11). Later, he says himself that “I’ve put as much time and attention into caring for it as I did when it was real” (11). However, the electric sheep is an “it” where the real sheep was “Groucho.” If the sheep has “genuine” wool, “would scramble up convincingly and amble over” (9) at the sight of oats, and required the same care and attention a real sheep would, why should it not be “genuine” itself? Immediately from the first few pages of the first chapter, the reader is confronted with the decision to decide what is real and what is not, as Decker and Barbour do with their “animals.”