Death in the Digital Age

Unlike many other works of apocalyptic fiction which cite technology as the bringer of destruction (Looking at you, Fallout series.) Station Eleven use of a biological agent to end the world allows it to explore the symbol and reality of technology in a much more subtle manner. Chapters 27-47 give the reader a front-row seat to the collapse to technology, as seen from the perspective of Frank’s apartment. As the two brothers try to wait out the pandemic, it is described how the news stations become more and more of a shell of their former shells, eventually ending with the broadcast camera just turning off. Obvious symbolism aside, this degradation of the news system disconnects people, and makes the world more localized. With this comes a return to naivety, which Jeevan expresses by comparing his brother’s apartment to the treehouse they would play when they were young. Jeevan frequently comments on how nice the calm snow is, and shows a reverence for naturalism. It makes sense that this sentiment would translate into his desire to leave the apartment, because in many ways he has unbound himself technology permanently. However, Frank is forever bound to the technology of his wheelchair, which even though is perfectly functional cannot coexist with the new, post-technology society.

The ordeal Jeevan undergoes in the apartment is representative of the larger, multi-faceted way Station Eleven handles all technology. Station Eleven puts a strong emphasis on communications technology by frequently mentioning blocked off highways and airplanes. These chapters equate the symbol of the airplane to the menacing presence of the prophet, in-line with how the airplane served as the angel of death which brought the virus to North America.

This topic would probably be more fitting for a sightings post, but it tied really well to a passage from today’s Station Eleven reading. In Chapter 30, Mandel writes, “On silent afternoons in his brother’s apartment, Jeevan found himself thinking about how human the city is, how human everything is. We bemoaned the impersonality of the modern world, but that was a lie, it seemed to him; it had never been impersonal at all. There had always been a massive delicate infrastructure of people, all of them working unnoticed around us, and when people stop going to work, the entire operations grinds to a halt. No one delivers fuel to the gas stations or the airports. Cars are stranded. Airplanes cannot fly. Trucks remain at their points of origin. Food never reaches the cities; grocery stores close. Businesses are locked and then looted. No one comes home to work at the power plants or the sub-stations, no one removes fallen trees from electrical lines” (178).

Last class discussion, Dr. Sample mentioned what would hypothetically happen to the world, specifically to the New York City subways, if humans disappeared from the earth. Having taken a Posthumanism English class this semester, which turned out to complement this class in a really interesting way, I’ve thought a lot about the post-human world and the intersections between humanity and technology. I found this video on what would happen if all humans suddenly disappeared from the planet:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wy7Q6wazD_E

What Would Happen If Humans Disappeared?

Although humans haven’t gone completely extinct in Station Eleven, we still see the devastating effects of the absence of humans in a post-apocalyptic world. I find it interesting that this video, as well as most similar content on the topic, does not address what would happen to the Internet without humans. As we’ve discussed in our blog posts and class discussions, in many ways, technology continues to live as people die. But like other complex technological systems, the Internet still requires human maintenance. I wonder how the Internet would fare independent of people. If new intelligent life occupies the earth after humans have left or gone extinct, would they be able to retrieve the technology saved in “the cloud” when all other traces of humanity have dwindled away?

I find modern literature (and perhaps society at large) generally disdainful of technology.  People want to dismiss the Internet, and social media in particular, as creating a less focused and present, and more superficial and inauthentic society.  I strongly, strongly disagree with this position.  Internet culture is not without its faults, certainly, but just look at this image.

I can translate English into languages I’ve never even heard of instantly and at not cost to me.  I can meet someone in Zimbabwe over social media, and then can talk to them by translating English into Shona (a language I only just learned of) with speed and ease unprecedented in all of human history.  How is that anything less than exhilarating?

One of the things I’ve so enjoyed about Station Eleven is how it reminds me how awe-inspiring modern technology truly is.  Contrary to a lot of the current discourse, Station Eleven celebrates the miracle of technology, be it airplanes (pg 247) or the Internet (pg 202).  But what really struck me was two scenes on pages 208-209.

In the first scene, Miranda goes to Starbucks for a decaf latte and compliments the barista’s green hair.  In the second, she visits Arthur in his dressing room and he makes her a cup of tea with his electric tea kettle.

There’s nothing inherently remarkable about these two interactions, but juxtaposed with the primitiveness of the post-Georgia Flu world, I found myself in awe of them.  This awe may be partially because they center on three things I really enjoy (coffee shops, bright hair, and electric kettles), but nevertheless, Station Eleven is really good at making you appreciate technology.

We have shops where you can go and get a cup of coffee in under five minutes.  We have electricity to keep those shops running.  We have running water to make the drinks.  We’re able to import the non-native coffee bean in such enormous supply that it’s very easy and cheap to obtain.  We have factories that produce bleach and hair dye, and I can buy both of these for relatively little money.  I have access to a car to take me to the beauty supply store to buy the materials, so that the seven mile journey is but a small errand.  I have an electric tea kettle, and can have boiling hot water whenever I want it.  I have a variety of tea bags in my room.  I think you’re getting the point.

One of the things I am most enjoying about Station Eleven is how it makes me look at the world through new eyes.  By so vividly crafting a world without technology, St. John Mandel changes the way I see even the most mundane aspects of my life.  That’s not something I can say of many writers.

As I continue to read Station Eleven, I grow increasingly more receptive of shifts in structure, content, and time. I was particularly struck by the structure of chapters 30-37, which established a clear and straight-forward alternation between Frank and Jeevan’s narrative with Kristen and Francois’s interview. After a closer examination of these chapters, I realized that a lot of the thematic elements that are present in the novel are similar to ones we explored after watching Dead Set, especially when Emily St. John Mandel writes, “They were afraid of everyone who wasn’t them” (176). Watching the world become slowly unpopulated by humans through the eyes of humans in danger was skillfully portrayed in both narratives, even though the circumstances in each were incredibly different. When the Internet blinked out for Jeevan and Frank in Station Eleven, my mind immediately raced to the scenes in Dead Set when Patrick and Pippa were stuck in the green room with no means of communication as well as the failure of technology when Riq tried to reach out to Kelly while stranded at a railway station. I then paired all of these images of abandonment and isolation with an incredibly poignant facet of Jeevan’s thought process as his world comes to an end: “how human the city is, how human everything is” (178). Humans hold society together and when society vanishes, (as it does in Station Eleven and Dead Set) survival becomes the priority, which translates into the competition between humans to outlive one another. This can be seen through the presence of guns in Station Eleven and Dead Set. Even though both narratives show the the painful reality of the brutal competition for survival, they more subtly highlight the importance of camaraderie during times of chaos and destruction. This can be seen in the comment, “Jeevan had never felt so close to his brother” and through Kristen’s recollection of how Jeevan was “so calm” during his attempt to save Leander’s life (179, 184). Putting these alternating chapters in conversation with each other as well as examining Station Eleven’s similarities to Dead Set makes it evident that this story, even as fantastical and unrealistic as it may seem, is a human story.   

Why do you think Emily St. John Mandel chooses to alternate between the stories of Frank and Jeevan and Kristen and Francois in such a deliberate way? Although Jeevan’s identity is unknown to Kristen, it is evident that he impacted her in many ways. What comment does this make about the importance or lack thereof of identity in terms of interconnected stories? I think it is also important to acknowledge the importance Frank’s disability — his spinal-cord injury has paralyzed him from the waist down and he must use a wheelchair to maneuver. Aligning Frank with this disability was clearly an intentional choice made by the author, but does it have broader implications? I find it interesting how Jeevan’s first inclination was to be with his brother when Hua told him about the Georgia Flu, but he does not take it on himself to prevent his brother’s suicide when it becomes clear that Frank is giving up hope. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Reference:

Mandel, Emily St. John. Station Eleven. New York: Vintage , a Division of Penguin Random House LLC, 2014. Print.