Mechanize My Hands to War by Erin K. Wagner : Review by Paul Di Filippo

Mechanize My Hands to War, Erin K. Wagner (DAW 978-0756419349, hardcover, 320pp, $28.00) December 2024

Erin Wagner’s debut novel is a highly sophisticated tale, constructed in clever fashion, which revolves around the classic motif of human versus nonhuman, specifically man against android. It does not necessarily expand the frontiers of this theme—Wagner’s sociological and technological speculations about androids and their uses hew pretty closely to the standard SF textbook, although I must say that using the word “rubber” as derogatory slang for an artificial person is a fresh touch—but because of its intense characterization, gripping prose, and general empathy for all concerned, it manages to delve very deeply into the topic—more so than many SF books that are concerned, say, only with depicting the surface tensions of the rivalry.

Wagner first began publishing in 2014 with the short story “To See If It Is Possible”. In the ten years since, she’s produced more short work and some nice standalone novellas. Despite this admirable record, this is a novel debut that kind of springs out of nowhere, given its masterful grasp and assured presentation, presaging even finer books to follow.

Before jumping into the plot, let me mention that Wagner tantalizingly doles out her tale in non-linear fashion. Basically, the timeframe is 2012 to 2062. But, for instance, the 2012 segment does not occur until deep within the book. Yet the reader will not be put off by this chrono-fragmentation, since Wagner is careful to impart all the information you need in just the right places.

Moreover, she pulls off several Rashomon maneuvers: depicting once-seen encounters from a new perspective. This too does not impair, but rather enhances the telling.

In the 2060s, androids are both routine and exotic, depending on one’s acquaintance with them. This long quotation below, where a naïve farm couple have to deal with an android expert, illustrates both attitudes:

“You’ve come to the right place,” Pnuchin said. He waved his arms wide. The room was almost empty, a large holographic screen thrown up on the right-side wall with their medical information. Shay barely noticed that, however, in the face of the three silent figures who sat at the table directly in front of them. They looked human to her, but they sat so preternaturally still that she could only assume them to be the android aides. She shivered. She craned her neck to look at Ernst. He swallowed, then smiled at her.

“As you know,” Pnuchin said, “androids are the more cost-efficient way to provide twenty-four-hour home healthcare. Insurances prefer them in cases like yours.”

Shay had seen androids before—on TV mostly, but occasionally in person, as drivers and aides to people in town. On the farm, though, it was just her and her husband, some migrant workers in the fall and spring. And unmoving as these androids were, they did not feel akin to humans, waving on the street, lifting bags of groceries. They seemed like what they were—machines, waiting for orders. She felt almost sick to her stomach.

“Ernst,” she whispered, nearly frantic. “No, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Pnuchin smiled, pretending not to hear.

“Let’s just wait and see,” Ernst answered, but his voice was strained. He stepped up to stand beside her. It was comforting to see him there, moving in infinitesimal ways even when he stood still.

“Doctor, could you explain”—he struggled for the right words—”how all of this works?”

“Certainly! That’s my job.” Pnuchin moved over to the table where the androids sat. Walking behind the three figures, he briefly touched their necks. All three androids, the two females and the one male, had short hair, cropped close to the head. For a moment, nothing happened.

“There are privacy policies you’ll have to sign off on. We do collect a limited amount of data, for example, of the android’s activities in your home—for your own protection and so that we can continue to improve on the networks. Other than that, since you’ve been pre-authorized on your insurance, you’ll be responsible for a small co-pay. It’s just a matter of picking the model you feel most comfortable with, and then we’ll get started.” Pnuchin stood back from the table.

Note the quiet gravitas of Wagner’s prose. Very effective throughout.

Shay and Ernst will continue to figure in our tale, but our main focus is on two people who are exceedingly intimate with androids—for they deal with them as co-workers.

Adrian Hall is an ex-field agent turned ATF bureaucrat. Her agency is intent on one main project: capturing the anti-android terrorist Eli Whitaker and his child-soldier army. Trey Caudill operates under Adrian’s supervision, running down leads on Whitaker with the help of two android enforcers: Ora and Helios. It is this ostensibly simple quest that occupies most of the tale, but it is immensely complicated by several facts.

For one thing, Trey and Adrian go way back together, back thirty years in fact—to when they were both under the sway of Whitaker himself! That’s how long this revolt has been festering. Their complicated feelings for each other and for Whitaker make them question all their actions, doubt their virtue and relationships, and botch certain doings.

Then, when android Ora shoots one of the child soldiers when it could have apparently taken the kid down non-lethally, the whole android-human interface looks dubious.

Wagner is dutiful in giving everyone their say, even Whitaker and Ora. Whitaker’s final stand is a small miracle of overturned expectations, poignant and grim. Wagner holds out no easy answers for the ill feelings between organic and non-organic species, but only a willingness to probe and dissect. She probably comes as close to what the “real life” introduction of androids would feel like as any other book I’ve read.

With cinematic echoes of Blade Runner and A.I. Artificial Intelligence, this book also evokes for me another delicate presentation of this matter: Ariel Winter’s Barren Cove.

If playwright Eugene O’Neill had been presented with a vista of the Uncanny Valley, he might have penned a drama akin to Mechanize My Hands to War.

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